Shouldn't Be (8 page)

Chapter Seven

“Here is the Lost Park/National merger information, Ms. Morgan.  I’d like an initial report by the end of the day,” Ben said, as he pointed to a box of file folders beside his desk. 

“I didn’t come up here to report for the job.”  After her mom’s pep talk, she’d almost believed she could work with him.  But when she saw him standing there, in a navy suit with a navy and burgundy diagonal stripped tie, she knew she couldn’t work for him.  He was far too remote, haughty even.  And the tone of his voice was almost contemptuous.  “I don’t want this to become a pissing contest between us.  I know you’ll win.  Can I just wave the white flag now, and go back to my old job?”

As he thought for a second, he placed his finger on his bottom lip.  She knew how it felt to kiss those lips, and get lost in that kiss.  She tried not to, but she shivered.  “No,” he answered finally. 

She couldn’t hide her feelings of defeat.  Her shoulders slumped, and her head tilted to one side. 

“You’re a lawyer.  Grow a spine.”  His terse tone continued.  “There’s an empty office next door.  I expect you to be moved up here before tomorrow morning.”

She thought again about her conversation with her mother the evening before.  Could she take the challenge that he had issued?  She picked up the banker’s box, and carried it into the office he indicated.  It contained a very modern glass desk with a state of the art desktop computer and huge monitor, and a glass and steel bookshelf.  A soft grey couch sat by one wall, with a glass coffee table in front of it.  On the opposite wall was a fireplace surrounded by grey tile.

Her office on the second floor had a hand-me-down discount desk, and a chair that felt like it had been around since the Second World War.  “Feel free to decorate however you want,” he said as he casually stood in the doorway, sipping a cup of coffee.  “After you hand in your initial report.” 

She thought she heard him chuckle as he walked away.  She certainly hoped he was enjoying this.

Promptly at a quarter after four, she stood at his door and wondered if she should knock.  He sat on the couch reviewing a case file.  His tie was gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned.  His unruly hair had overpowered the styling product he’d used, and the ends began to curl toward his face.  He looked even more handsome than he did that first night.  And she remembered what happened that evening.  Alcohol was involved, she reminded herself, as she knocked on the door.

“Hello, Ms. Morgan,” he said as he waved her into his office.  She stepped in and approached the couch.  She stood about three feet from him.  She’d removed her jacket as well several hours ago, and the sleeves of her light blue oxford were rolled up to her elbows.  “The color suits you,” he said, as he glanced up at her before he returned his attention to the file.  “It matches your eyes.”  Although his words were nice, his tone hadn’t changed, so it felt more like a complaint than a compliment.

“Thank you,” she said anyways, as she handed him the folder. 

“I’ll review it later,” he said as he pointed at the table in front of the couch.  She placed it gently where he indicated, and turned round.

He watched her walk away.  How did she hide her delectable body in such a sensible outfit?  Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, and it bounced as she walked, much like her tits bounced when she danced.

He smiled at the memory, scratched at his ear, and returned to the file. 

* * *

She worked until five-thirty, moving her personal and work items up to the fifth floor.  She still felt weird pushing the button, even after doing it a dozen times.  The last time she exited the elevator, Ben, or Ruben, waited on it.  She smiled at him politely as she walked past.

“Good job on the report, Ms. Morgan,” he said without emotion.

“Thanks,” she replied, as she glanced up at him.  He carried his jacket and the tie over his shoulder.  His hair tumbled onto his forehead, but her gaze fixated on his lips.  She had to fight the urge to kiss him. 

“Have a good night,” he called back as he entered the elevator.

“You too,” she sighed.  She walked dejectedly to her new office.  Why in the hell did she feel like she’d just been dumped?

She arranged her family pictures on the shelves, and her alma mater mug that doubled as her pencil holder on her desk.  Then she placed her small plant on the bookshelf near the window.  She smiled at it wistfully as she stood by the door ready to leave, because having her new office was bittersweet.

As she moved to flick the light switch, she saw him approach.  Her eyes grew wide as he walked closer.  And when he was so close they almost touched, she exhaled longingly.

He moved closer still, until she felt his warm breath on her ear.  “I can’t act like I don’t want you any longer today.”  He pushed an errant strand of red hair over her ear. 

Her lips parted of their own accord as she stared at the muscles straining at his neck.  His jaw tightened, and his eyes closed, but he refused to make another move until she responded.  His brow furrowed, and his full lips tightened into a straight line as he waited.  “Fine, I’ll go.” 

He moved away ever so slightly.  It felt like a million tiny cuts on her heart.  “Wait.”  She took a step into her new office, and he followed and shut the door behind him.

When they were alone, she expected to be besieged by an onslaught of kisses and caresses.  It didn’t happen.  He took a seat on the couch, casually crossing his legs, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.  A challenge lingered there, she’d felt it for the last two days.  And she was sure he didn’t want to lose.  “Make me believe you want me too.” 

She had to control her reaction.  She took in one breath, then another.  If she giggled he’d promptly get up and walk out.  If she said the wrong thing, he’d do the same.  So she decided not to talk.  She never said the right thing anyway.

She removed her jacket, and threw it onto the glass table.  She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, and dropped it to reveal a lacy, light blue bra. 

He inhaled loudly, and uncrossed his legs.  His hips flexed.  His erection was unbearable.  He pushed against it with the heel of his hand, trying to find a comfortable position for it, but failed miserably.  She kicked off her expensive navy pumps.  At least now he knew how she afforded her shoe fetish.  Then her skirt was on the floor.  She bent forward to step out of it, and placed it neatly by her jacket on the table.  Her lacy, light blue panties matched her bra.

She stood there uneasily for several moments, allowing him to stare at her.  Her cheeks were as red as her hair.  Still he didn’t move to her, he needed her to move to him.  She did eventually, tiptoeing toward him as if they were teenagers in her bedroom, and she was trying not to wake her parents.

He thought she might sit down beside him, but he was wrong.  She put one knee on the couch, slung the other over his thighs, and straddled him, resting her rear on his thighs.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled in closer, her breasts touching his chest, to whisper in his ear.  “Please don’t steal these panties.  They’re a matching set.”

He groaned loudly as her tongue gently touched his earlobe.  He placed his palms flat on the couch beside her calves.  Her hands caressed the back of his neck, then her nails scratched up over his scalp through his hair. 

“What does your lip gloss taste like today?” he wondered, as his hips bucked off the couch, grinding the hard-on he’d had for over a week into her.  She reacted eagerly, wiggling her round ass against it.

“No lip gloss today,” she pouted as her teeth grazed against his skin.  “It’s just me.”

“What do you taste like?”  He couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer.  They circled her waist, and held her against him.  His mouth attached to her shoulder. 

“This guy I met at a bar told me I taste like watermelon,” she whispered. 

He effortlessly flipped her over, placing her on her back against the couch.  Her hands went out to caress his chest, and he practically ripped his shirt off to expose his skin for her. 

“I want you,” she moaned without prompting. 

“Yea?” he asked, as his hands found her breasts, while hers travelled down his chest to his stomach.

“Yea.  I want this,” she stated fervently, as she grabbed his cock through his tailored dress pants.

“You want it, do ya?”  He pushed it into her hand as he leaned forward to kiss her roughly.  He drowned, and was revived at the same time in her mouth.  He helped her with his pants and underwear, and jerked hers aside fluidly.  And then he was inside her.

He moaned loudly, the battle cry of a man who had fought for and won what he desired.  She felt so warm around his throbbing cock.  Tight, wet, and oh, so velvety smooth.  His mouth covered hers as she cried out against him.  He moved into her slowly, feeling a sensation he’d never felt before.  It was so soft around his cock he nearly lost his mind.

Abruptly he realized why.  He was so eager to get inside her, he’d forgotten the condom.  He pulled away from her mouth and stopped moving inside her.  He had to make himself breathe, before he asked, “Are you on the pill?”

“Yes,” she said raggedly.

“I forgot the condom.”  He didn’t do it on purpose, and he’d never done it before.  But he couldn’t tell her all that right now.

“I know.”  She tried not to sound angry, but some of her emotion bled over into her voice.

“Do I need to…”  He didn’t finish.

“Yes,” she insisted. 

He pulled out quickly, and sat down on the couch between her legs.  He grabbed a condom out of his pocket, and pushed off his pants.  She placed her forearm over her eyes, as if shielding herself from him.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I’ve never…” 

“It’s okay,” she sighed, but her eyes were closed tight. 

He could see she was upset.  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and kissed her shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, as he took one nipple in his mouth.  “I’m sorry,” he said over and over, as his hot tongue moved over her stomach to find her light red tuft of pubic hair.  He blew on it lightly, then took her clit and lips into his mouth hungrily.  He didn’t say he was sorry again, but she knew.  He brought her to orgasm with his mouth and his fingers, and when he finally entered her again, they were protected.

She had to admit it felt different, but it was right.  She nodded up to him when he was all the way inside her. 

“You like it?” he asked tenderly.

“I like it,” she moaned, as he moved slowly in and out. 

“Good,” he sighed as he kissed her.  He deftly brought them both to climax.

* * *

He lay with his head on her breast, still inside her.  Her heart raced, but gradually returned to normal.  He traced the veins over her chest and up her neck gently.  He’d never met anyone like her.  She was beautiful and desirable, had a keen legal mind, and an intellect he envied.  She wasn’t only perfect, she was unreal. 

And for whatever reasons, she wanted him too.  “Are you okay?” he asked, as he moved to gaze up at her. 

She stared at the ceiling.  Was she okay?  She was sleeping with her boss, who was gorgeous, rich, and charming, and played the guitar while singing like an angel.  Surely there was a catch somewhere.  “I think so,” she said with a grin.

“Good,” he said, as he quickly pulled away.  He stood up and searched around for a trash can, and then deposited the used condom into it.  When he turned back around and walked toward her, he was still hard.

“Does that thing ever go down?”  She tried really hard not to let out the slightest hint of a laugh when she said it.  His eyes squinted and his brow furrowed when he turned toward her.  “I’m just curious,” she said innocently.

“When I’m not around you,” he said honestly, as he pulled up his boxers.  “No, wait, even then it’s hard if I think about you.”

“I’m serious,” she said with a smile as she watched him.

“I am too,” he said sincerely.  “Get dressed, I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” she said dolefully as she sat up. 

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked as he pulled his shirt on.  “Chinese?”

“I hate Chinese,” she said as she also pulled on her shirt.  She felt empowered saying it out loud.

“Thai?” he asked, glancing over to watch her dress.

“Nope,” she shook her head.  She stood to pull on her skirt, as he pulled on his pants.

“Italian?” he questioned, as they both pulled on their jackets.  She flipped her ponytail from underneath it, then adjusted it and squared her shoulders.  “You will have dinner with me, won’t you?”  He pulled her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

The emotions she saw there frightened her, and excited her at the same time.  She smiled then, and kissed his lips.  “Mexican?”

“I hate Mexican,” he teased her lightly.  She pouted as she followed him toward the elevator.  “Mexican it is.”  He grinned when she smiled up at him excitedly. 

“Good night, Mr. Aronson,” the receptionist said when they walked past. 

“Good night, Hilda,” he responded with a wave.

“Does she know?” Kaitlyn asked after they were on the elevator.