Fight with Me (With Me in Seattle 2)
He starts to move his hips, sliding in and out of me, and the sensation is unlike any I’ve ever known. I feel the metal, his impressive cock, his mouth is doing crazy things to mine, and I feel my body quicken as a thin coat of sweat covers me. He picks up the pace, and rotates his hips, just enough to make me completely lose my mind.
“Come on honey, let go.” And I do, violently. I cry out as Nate pushes into me, harder, once and twice, and then succumbs to his own release.
“Oh, Fuck!”
***
I just fucked my boss.
Nate pulls out of me and pulls the condom off, then tosses it on the floor beside the bed.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
No. “Yes.”
“Do you need anything?” He runs his fingers down my cheek, and I again wish that the lights were on, yet I don’t because I’m now feeling shy, and I never feel shy. His voice is distant, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with me now, and to be honest, I don’t know what to do with me either.
“No, thank you.”
Oh, God, what did I just do? I just had to have the most mind-blowingly fantastic sex of my life with the one man in the world that I just can’t have. When he asked me to join him for a drink here at his place after dinner out with colleagues, I should have said no, but I couldn’t. I’ve wanted to get my hands on him from day one, but our company has a very strict no fraternization policy, and I’ve had a long-standing policy of my own: no fucking co-workers.
And yet, here I am, blissfully sated, and not just a little ashamed in my sexy boss’s bed in his swanky thirty-floor apartment.
Fuck.
“Do you want me to turn the lights on?” Nate asks and starts to move away from me, but I put my hand out, gripping his arm to stop him.
“No, it’s fine.”
“You don’t sound like yourself. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Tired, probably too much wine.” Those two glasses that I sipped while drinking in Nate’s deliciousness have definitely not affected my head, but it’s the only excuse I have. We’re acting weird with each other now, and I hate it. I don’t know what I expected, I don’t know him that well. He’s always been professional and polite, and until tonight I had no idea that he found me the least bit attractive.
He’s got a very convincing poker face.
Nate kisses my forehead and pulls the covers over us, then turns me away from him and curls up behind me.
“Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Talk? Talk about what?
I don’t answer, I just lie still and wait until his breathing evens out, then wait another ten minutes to make sure he’s asleep. I carefully slip out from under his heavy arm – Jeez, he’s muscular! Those suits he wears are very deceiving. I fumble my way to the wall, praying I don’t trip and fall on my ass, waking him up and follow it to the doorway. Turning on the hall light, I gather my clothes quickly and dress, grab my purse from Nate’s large, professionally decorated, gorgeous living room, and leave.
I call a cab from the lobby of the prestigious downtown Seattle condo building and wait for my ride back to the parking garage of our office building so I can get my own car.
When I finally get home to the house I share on Alki Beach with my best friend, Natalie, I see a strange Lexus convertible in the driveway and lights coming from the kitchen at the back of the house.
“Natalie?”
“In the kitchen!”
“Do you have company?” I am so not in the mood to meet Nat’s new friend.
“Yeah,” she calls back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m going to bed.” I climb the stairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and take a long, hot shower. My skin is still sensitive from my romp in Nate’s bed, and his scent clings to me, all clean and musky and sexy, and I can’t help but regret leaving just a little. Perhaps there could have been more fun during the night before the harsh light of day settled in.
And along with it, The Talk.
No, thank you.
I really don’t need to have Nate spell out all the reasons why this was a one night indiscretion. I certainly don’t think I can handle the awkwardness of the morning after. It’s better to just pretend like it never happened, and get back to business as usual.
I pull on pink panties and a white cami and pull my phone out of my purse on my way to bed. There are no messages or texts.
He’s probably as relieved I left as I am.
I lay awake all night, trying to figure out what I’m going to say when I call in sick at work tomorrow.
Chapter One
Late Spring
I love my job. I love my job. God, sometimes, I hate my job. I read the terse email from my boss, Nathan McKenna once again and swallow hard.
Friday, April 26, 2013 13:56
From: Nathan McKenna
To: Julianne Montgomery
Subject: Working Late
Julianne,
I need you to work late with me tonight, possibly into the weekend. Please gather all the files on the Radcliffe account and meet me in my office at 6:00 pm.
Nate
Damn it! For eight long months I’ve managed to steer clear of my boss, and I know I’ve been incredibly lucky that I haven’t had to work alone with him after-hours, but we recently lost the other junior partner in our department, and that leaves just me and Nate.
Large, beastly butterflies have taken up residence in my stomach.
Since that one night last summer, Nate and I have maintained a level of professionalism that I’m very proud of, despite the fact that whenever I see him I feel a pull of electricity that makes my thighs clench. I did invite him to double-date with Nat and I on the night of one of Nat’s husband, Luke’s movie premieres, but I managed to keep that night completely platonic.
It almost killed me.
Since then, it’s been for the greater good of keeping a job that I enjoy that I steer clear of Mr. Sex-on-legs.
Not that he’s been clamoring to get me back into bed. The morning after The Best Sex In The History of Mankind, after I snuck out of his bed, he had been pissed. He’d called and texted, wanting to know what the hell happened, and I’d avoided him like the plague for a good two weeks, telecommuting from home and taking vacation time.
Then, he just stopped. All personal communication halted, and when we are together during business hours, he is the epitome of cool professionalism.