That might be what she wants, but she’s not in control. I am.
She’ll learn that today. She’ll learn it hard.
I have dirty things on my mind, and they all involve Nicole Cristie. I’m going to get my hands on her little tits again, pinch those nipples until she can’t bear any more. I’m going to slip my fingers into her panties and probe her most private place until I feel her shiver at my touch. I want to deny her pleasure and then give it to her until she can’t take it and begs me to stop.
But for now, I need to make sure this goes as planned. Turning to the refreshments table, I pour Nicole a mug of coffee, which I carefully place in front of her. Then I pull a small silver flask from inside my jacket pocket and pour some into the steaming cup. “You look like you need a shot of whiskey,” I say. My tactic to remind her of one of the more explosive parts of last night. The orgasms she had were like an exorcism. Nicole’s cheeks flame. “For medicinal purposes, of course.”
She looks at me blankly as though she’s still reeling from the shock of my appearance.
“Close your mouth, Nicole.” God, I love giving her orders and watching her comply. It seems too easy…she seems too perfect to be real.
That seems to snap her out of her daze. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my company, Nicole.” I take a seat at the head of the table and adjust my cuffs. It’s a power move, subtle body language to keep her on the back foot. She slumps a little lower in her chair, and I find I enjoy every minute of her discomfort.
“How did you know I’d be here today?” she says more quietly. “Where’s Holden?”
“Holden will be here shortly. I wanted to come and welcome you to AHP personally and make sure you have everything you need to make your stay a good one.”
Nicole blinks, and it takes every ounce of control I possess not to lean over the table, grab her around the back of the neck, and kiss her forcefully. Images flash through my mind; her body bound by my tie and belt, her pussy spread open.
But I’m used to being in control, so instead, I let silent seconds tick past, and I relish every moment.9
NICOLEAs Aaron finishes his spiel, his green eyes twinkle and then narrow slightly, dangerously.
I shiver. "You knew it was me…last night, didn't you? I wasn't just some random pick-up, was I?"
His expression remains impassive. "Ah, Nicole. We don't need to focus on yesterday's news, do we?" His flippancy rouses me from my shock and pulls me into an angry place of bubbling indignation.
My spur-of-the-moment decision to do something that would wipe away the shame that Jonathan left behind has only succeeded in leaving even greater disgrace. What had been a steamy encounter and a bid to snatch back the reins of my sexuality now seems sordid. I feel foolish, manipulated, and so damn gullible, and the sinking sense of mortification is horrible.
"I think I want to focus on yesterday. It seems pretty relevant to what is happening right now."
"Why? Did I not deliver on my promise?"
"What the hell's that got to do with anything?"
"Mind your tone," he says sternly as if he is talking to a sullen teenager. My blood boils.
"You knew! You knew who I was, and you still did what you did. I can't believe…"
"What? That a man in a bar would find you attractive enough to want to fuck you if you offered it to him on a plate."
I stand, resting my fisted hands on the table in front of me and lean toward him. "That was low," I say quietly as I struggle to contain the welling fury in my rigid muscles, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me really lose my temper. That's a small part, but more importantly, it's how vital my job is to me. Being up to my eyeballs in student debt would make losing employment over something so stupid a catastrophic blow.
Aaron studies me, eyes grazing my face, chest, hips, a languid perusal that makes me seethe and flush in equal measure. Then he moves forward until our faces are only a foot apart. "You're a beautiful girl, Nicole, but when you're angry…" he shakes his head. "Stunning."
I raise my eyebrows and draw backward as my heart skitters. Why does a simple comment so crudely put affect me so deeply? Am I really that easy to impress? I slump down, disappointed in myself; my sore lady parts a stark reminder of my stupidity. My head feels heavy in my hands as I withdraw into my own embarrassment.
"God," I say, my voice muffled by my palms.