The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel) (2 page)

It’s hard to drive with tears, anger and confusion
all taking turns steering your brain. Amazingly, I manage to get home in one
piece. I go over and over everything that sleazeball attorney told me and can’t
find anything I can use to make this go away. Some of it isn’t unexpected. I
know Blake hates me, and favors supporting Ladies World because it’s bigger and
older. I know Kenneth is a slimy henchman who will do anything to put Blake on
top. I know at forty-nine percent, I am at their mercy.
I open a bottle of wine and pick at a salad
for dinner. After cataloging the “knows”, I turn my attention to the things I
don’t know and my anger begins to override the numbness of the shock. What are
they looking for in my computer?
Why didn’t Mark tell me when he turned over my
account? Why didn’t he call me? I thought Mark was supposed to be on my side! The
questions build inside me until I’ve given a name to everything I don’t
understand: Mark Stone.
With a fury, I grab my keys and get in the
car. All I know is that Mark Stone better be working late, and he better have
some damn good answers.
Sure enough, there’s only one light in the
office on the 6th floor of the building holding Sandstone’s offices. It’s
Mark’s. I blitz through the lobby past security, the memory of the former
security guard causing my wrist to ache, and hit the elevator for the sixth
floor. The nameplate informs me the Law Offices of Allen and Martinez are on
floor five, but their windows were dark. I’m sure Kenneth and Blake are out
having a cocktail, toasting to the end of my future. I practically jump through
the elevator door when it opens and find myself in the front hallway of
Sandstone.
I enter quietly and turn down the hall to his
office. Opening the door to his outer office, I see a light coming through the
crack of the door to his personal office. The secretary’s chair is empty, her
desk neatly organized with manila folders of deals and financial sheets. The
quiet methodical tapping of the keyboard drifts through the silent office, and
I pause for a second.
I should go. I’m a wreck. I can’t let him see
me like this. Mark is the one person in this whole company I want to respect
me, and truthfully, I’ve always wanted him to be interested in me for a little
more than work.
I pace in his outer office, listening to him
working on his computer. A framed picture of Mark, Blake and their father hangs
on the wall. They’re posing next to a large swordfish, on the deck of a white
yacht, the leather seats visible in the background. The rich bastard was
supposed to help me, but instead, he pushed me down, stabbed me in the back and
left me bleeding all over his tidy account register.
I storm forward, pushing open the door.
His untied tie hangs around his neck, and his
shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His sandy-brown hair and muscular
chest give me a moment’s pause.
“Julia.” He looks up slowly as he sees me
enter his office. “Are you okay?”
“Do you think I’m okay, Mark?”
“No,” he says somberly. “I’m sure you’re not.
I’m sure it’s been a rough day.”
“A rough day? Is that what you call it?
A
rough day
? Your firm closed down my office! Your lawyer humiliated me in
front of my whole staff! You’ve taken away everything I ever had and will ever
have. Yes, Mark, I’ve had a fucking rough day!”
“To be fair, Julia,” Mark says with his
signature sense of accuracy and control. “Ken Allen is not my lawyer. He’s
Blake’s.”
“Lynx was your account. The magazine was in
your hands. Protecting it was your responsibility.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” He rises from his
chair and walks around the desk. I can see my words have stung him. He’s not
making eye contact. “There’s a lot here that you don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t understand, Mark. I don’t
understand why I’ve just lost my life’s work.” In my anger, the jabs turn mean
and petty. “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? Because this isn’t
your life’s work, is it? No, it’s your Daddy’s life work. It was passed down to
you and Blake to carry on the Stone dynasty. You’ve had everything given to you
your entire life. All you’ve ever had to do was make Daddy happy.”
“That’s enough, Julia! Sit down.”
I know I’ve gone too far, but I can’t stop
now.
“No! You sit down. I’m tired of taking orders
from Sandstone executives. This is your fault, Mark. Yours!”
Mark opens his arms to try to catch or guide
me into a chair, but I propel myself at him, hitting him in the chest with my
fists. I feel my hands hit the solid muscle of his body, and I strike at him
again and again. He catches my arms and pulls me close to him, close enough to
catch his strong masculine scent of smoky cinnamon and leather. With his red,
angry face inches away from me, he spits as he spews his defense in my face.
“Dammit, why do you have to be so stubborn,
Julia? You think this helps? You think refusing to listen to anybody else but
yourself is going to get your position back? Let me tell you something. Your
‘boobs of steel’ act where you play the tough broad breaking the glass ceiling
with her bare hands isn’t what made you a success in this business. You’ve just
been getting by with it, and now it’s pushed you right out the door. ”
I struggle against his arms, his words
piercing holes into me.
“If anyone is to blame here, it’s
you
,
Julia. I told you to stop going after Ladies World. I begged you to let your
feud with Valerie go. I sent you memos and messages and warnings that we would
always take the side of the big magazine over the upstart small one. But you
wouldn’t listen. You had to pursue it. You had to fight. You had to win. Julia,
you walked into
something
way over your head, and you refused to listen to any advice!”
Overcome with emotion, my wrists still bound
in his hands, I bring my foot up and kick him squarely in the shin.
“Bastard!” I scream at him and kick him a
second time as he grimaces in pain.
His eyes turn to ice as he towers above me,
locking me in his stare. I hear my heartbeat throbbing in my ears, wondering if
I’d gone too far, wondering if he was right and I had just lost my only hope of
figuring this mess out because I was too stubborn, too emotional, pushing away
the only ally I’ve had since the buyout in a fit of rage. A silent flash passes
between our eyes, and he grabs my shoulders with strong hands, holding me in
place. The thought of escape flees my mind as he leans down and crashes his
lips into mine.
I open my mouth to him, crushing my lips up
against his for a moment, his rough tongue searching inside me, opening me in a
way I never expected. How many times had I fantasized about the feel of those
lips on mine? We find harmony for a second, and then my brain kicks back in. I
bite his lip, and he jumps back.
He glares at me. Wrapping me up in his strong
arms, he kisses me a second time. My body alternates between struggling and
inviting. I slap at his back and arms, but then my lips follow his, pulling him
closer and closer into me as all strength to resist dissipates into where our
tongues entwine. He reaches down and pushes the papers off his desk, backing me
into it. Still holding and kissing me, his hand shoots to my breast. My hand
lifts to hit him once more but weakens into grabbing at his shirt. Then I start
shaking him back and forth.
“I needed a fighter! I needed someone as
strong as I was! I needed someone with the balls to stand up for me!” I cough
up mountains of anger and frustration on him as he continues to hold and press
against me, kissing any part of me that isn’t fighting back. He leans in my
ear.
“I know exactly what you need,” he says and
turns me quickly, bending me over the desk. His hand holding my back and his kiss
still warm on my lips, he folds me like paper. I feel the pressure of his body
behind me. He lifts my skirt and pushes it up on my back, pushing me harder
against the desk. “This is what you need.”
“Mark…” I say as I stretch my arms forward to
grab the front of his desk. His briefcase falls with a crash as I feel him
pushing against me again.
“This is what you need,” he leans over
whispering, his hot breath in my ear, his body pressing against me as he pulls
down my panties and reaches between my trembling legs. The wetness of my desire
is unmistakable. Still in my ear, he says, “This is what you want.”
“Yes,” I whisper softly, almost hoping he
doesn’t hear me, but I feel his fingers probing me, finding their way inside.
“Is this what you want?” he asks. I hear his
zipper going down with one hand as the weight of him still firmly presses me
against the hard wood. His hips are already starting a motion against me. I am
lost to the moment.
“Yes!” I scream. “God help me, yes!”
He enters me quickly, his cock splitting my
opening and pushing its way through my body. My head drops down on the desk as
his rough thrusts begin pushing deep into me, smacking me with his power, his
strength. My narrow long-neglected passage comes alive around his shaft, gripping
and pulsing as he thrusts over and over. I can’t tell if he’s taking me or
punishing me or just loving me but the rough sensations sweep me along the
surge of his lust.
Grabbing my hips, he thrusts into me like a
man possessed, each thrust pushing my breath out in loud bursts as he growls
through gritted teeth.
The buildup of energy, the sensation of my
clit being pushed and rubbed by his thrusts against the hard desk, his cock
pounding me again and again to the rhythm of his control—filling my body and
soul—is too much. My back arches and I buck underneath him. I clamp my mouth
shut, unwilling to allow him to hear the pleasure I’m getting from his
merciless cock, but the spasms of my body surge against his shaft. He slams
into me with several halting hard jerks then moans loudly as his semen floods
my raw insides.
Mark pauses long enough to catch his breath,
then withdraws, leaving me sore, filled and stunned. The moment passes in
silence with only our ragged breaths providing a clue to our presence. He pats
me on the rear gently and pushes a Kleenex box toward me as I hear his zipper
go back up. Propelling myself up on weak arms, I return to an upright position.
He looks out the window as I lean down to pull my panties back in place.
I stand before his desk like a paddled
schoolgirl. The glorious feelings of afterglow fill me with such peace and
ground me into the reality of the moment. I am content just to stare at him and
feel his phantom presence in my core.
“I…um…I…” I can’t talk. I don’t know how to
respond, and the endorphin rush in my head is making any decision impossible.

Finally, he looks up and speaks in a clear,
crisp detached tone.

“Listen to me Julia. There are things at
stake here that you don’t understand. I don’t even understand all of it yet. I
can’t promise you that I’ll be able to help you, but I’ll promise to try. What
I need from you is trust. You can’t just operate like a lone wolf if you want
me to help you.” He continued through his panting. “I will look into the files
to see what Blake has planned for Lynx, and if there’s anything that can be
done about it.”
Stunned, speechless, I turn to walk toward the
door. With each step, my raw and stretched body reminds me of what just took
place. I’m amazed that I can walk at all.
“And Julia,” Mark calls sternly from his desk.
“Yes?” I turn and force myself to look at his
face.
“I did fight for you. Otherwise we would’ve
had this conversation six months ago.”
I look at his eyes, creased with lines of
fatigue. For the first time, I notice a streak of grey in his hair that I had
never seen before.
“One more thing. Don’t try to contact me here
again, if I’m to help you, we can’t be seen together. I can’t tell you more
than that for now, but the answers will come soon. Understand?”
“Yes, Mark,” I say softly, as if an odd spell
has changed my entire demeanor. He smiles reassuringly then turns to pick his
work off the floor.

It’s noon and I’m still sitting at the kitchen
table, which is covered in paperwork. Old mail, notes, and the documents
Kenneth Allen gave me the day I was fired all sit in front of me in one
intimidating lump. Normally I can focus and get things done, but I’m so
distracted by my feelings about Mark and what we did that I can’t really think
at all.

Did that really happen? I shift positions in
my chair and the soreness winds throughout my lower body reminding me that Mark
Stone fucking me over his office desk was all too real, indeed.
How on earth did I even get in that position?
Did I want it? Did I need it? Most importantly, no matter what I think about my
wants and needs, what does Mark think about me? I go into his office screaming
like a madwoman and end up gripping the edge of his desk begging him to take
me. I needed his help and respect, and now I’m not sure I have either.
That’s not really fair though. I mean, that
kind of dance takes two. How unfair is it of him to take advantage of my
clearly unhinged state and toss me over the desk? Why wasn’t he looking out for
my company in the first place? I’m mad at Mark, and I’m mad at me. We somehow
managed to take a bad situation and make it worse. Anger isn’t a bad thing;
it’s fuel and it propels me to do something with the stack of crap in front of
me besides stare at it.
Grabbing a cup of strong coffee, I move out of
my haze and sort the mail from the rest of the pile. Nothing too interesting: a
few bills, some sale flyers and a copy of Inc. Magazine for business owners.
Guess I have to cancel my subscription to that. Then I see one of the bills is marked
“Glenvale Cancer Treatment Center.” That’s not good. I rip the envelope open to
confront one the many facts of my situation I had not wanted to face.
An outrageous sum for chemotherapy and care
for the past two weeks is due by Friday. I have this payment and maybe two or
three more, then I’m out of money. Dad isn’t responding to anything they were
doing for him at Mercy General and his Medicare cap is getting close. They
wanted to put him on “comfort care” and let the cancer run its course. Mark
helped me find Glenvale. It’s an experimental cancer treatment center that
offers drug trials and in-patient treatment but isn’t covered under insurance.
So, I’ve been footing the bill. The scary part is, I’m not sure how much longer
I can keep this up without a job.