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"You want this, baby. You’re always so in control, and it must be exhausting. This is a safe space. Here, it’s you and me. I’m not the captain of the London Ice Kings. You’re not the PR manager. We’re not pretending to be engaged. Here, with me, you’re simply Goldie, the woman who wants me to do to her as I wish. The woman who wants to feel how it is to let go and feel every inch of my cock inside her. The woman who"—he leans forward on the balls of his feet—"wants to give into her desire and orgasm without constraints."
The butterflies in my belly take wing, a cloud of sensations rising to my chest, ripples of awareness spreading to my extremities.
"I… I don’t want that."
"Yes, you do." He widens his stance, and my gaze is drawn to his powerful thighs that stretch the material of his jeans. And then there’s the tent between them.Ohmigod, is he already aroused?Although, considering the size of his shaft, that might be his resting dick phase.
A giggle boils up my throat and I quell it. It’s not like me to make stupid jokes that make me crack up when I’m nervous. I’m normally in control. I like to keep track of exactly how I spend my time. I plan my day so I can fit as much as possible into it and work toward climbing my career ladder… All of which has been shot to hell since I met this man.
"I. Don’t. Want. That. I don’t want you," I announce.
One side of his lips twists in that half smirk he’s taken to wearing whenever he knows I’m saying something I don’t mean. He prowls forward, reaches my desk and pats the surface.
I scowl back. If he thinks I’m going to obey him, he can keep dreaming.
"You know, you do," he murmurs.
I shake my head.
He narrows his gaze, then he holds out his hand. "Trust me."
Do I trust him? Do I want to trust him? Do I want to do as he says?I don’t dare look inside myself because I know what the answer is going to be, and I don’t want to acknowledge that. I don’t want to give in to this need inside of me that insists I obey him. I want to tear my gaze away from his so he can’t influence me further, but it’s as if I’m locked into it with no escape.
The heat builds under my skin. A bead of sweat runs down my neck, and his eyes follow it down to the valley between my breasts. He licks his lips, and it’s as if he’s touched me with his tongue. A shiver grips me. I lock my fingers together and feel the metal that encases my left ring-finger.
I can’t stop myself from tracing the tiny diamonds on it. An infinity ring, something that says forever, and an antique one that belongs in his family. I already love the weight of it on my hand. I already want to wear it all the time. He rakes his gaze down to where I’m toying with it, and I stop.
I don’t want him to know how much this gesture of his moved me. He didn’t have to get me a ring— certainly not one so symbolic—but he did it. He didn’t have to be so in sync with me during the interview with the journalist, but he was. It was as if we’d rehearsed our answers before going in, which we hadn’t. We were attuned to each other—so much so, we correctly guessed the right answers for the other. It was as if we knew each other intimately—which we don’t—yet. Eh? No, no, no I don’t intend for that to happen. I don’t intend to get to know him better, not beyond what is needed to do my job well. And that’s all the interview was about. A job well done.
And maybe, he used the fact that we were so on the same wavelength as an opportunity to further his plan, but in the end, it worked out.
The journalist was satisfied, and the ensuing publicity is going to help the team. It’s going to help me grow their reputation and meet my PR goals, even though, this time, I’m the story.
Everything that has happened in the last few days has turned my emotions upside down, and that’s a first. I’m not used to feeling so out of sorts. As if events in my life are overtaking me and I can only watch. I glance at his outstretched hand, and my heart begins to pound. My pulse points go into overdrive. My blood begins to pump with such speed, I feel breathless and dizzy and…Don’t do it. Don’t give in. Don’t give up control to this man.
"It’s your choice. You have the power to say no at any time. You’re in the driver’s seat here, baby," he says in a soft voice.
Something knotted inside of me dissolves.Would it be so bad to find out if what he’s saying is right?I glance down at his palm, then back at his face. He must read the struggle going on inside of me.
He jerks his chin. "Give me your hand, Goldie, you won’t regret it."
I’m going to regret it. But I’m going to do it anyway.I slide out from behind my desk, then walk around to stand in front of him.
I place my hand in his, and his shoulders relax. Strange.Was he worried I wouldn’t comply with his request? Was there ever a chance that I wouldn’t?"What if I had said no?" I ask.
"Then I’d have let you go." He sets his jaw, then shakes his head. "Not."
I begin to pull away, but he tightens his grip in my hand.
"Stay, Goldie, I promise to make it worth your while."
"Oh?
28
Rick
I could have ordered her to comply. I could have demanded that she walk around and drop to her knees in front of me. I could have infused my voice with enough dominance that she’d have given in much earlier… But I didn’t.
