Chapter Ten - Ellie
“You came.” McAllister Stonewall is leaning against the door of his office looking spectacularly triumphant. His dark gray suit drapes his body like an Italian tailor was paying attention to each and every stitch of thread. His shirt is a classic gray pinstripe and his silk tie is a deep cerulean blue that matches his eyes.
He looks very smug. Like he won something. Like my mere presence in his top-floor world is a prize. But he also looks tired. Like he lost sleep last night.
Good. Good. I lost sleep last night too.
God, I hate his guts. But I’m not about to make another scene up here on the seventh floor. I called Ming last night crying and she vowed to make this bastard pay for what he did. We’ll figure it out, she said.
But that’s just not the kind of person I am. Not vengeful. I just want that phone back so I can delete all those messages I sent stupid Heath. How did I ever think either of the two Stonewall brothers were handsome? It makes me want to barf.
The only reason I’m here today is so I can scope out McAllister’s office and figure out a plan to get the phone. Ming is going to meet me up here after work and then we’re going to tear his office apart and get it back.
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Do I get an office? Or will I have to claim a picnic table out in the Atrium?”
“Oh, we spent all day getting your office ready, Ellie,” Stephanie says. I know her pretty well. I was up here to see Heath at least once a week. “You’ve got Heath’s old annex.”
“The connecting room?” Jesus Christ. Can I not catch a break? Now I’ve got a connecting office to Mr. Fancy Jet?
“And Jennifer is on the other side of you. That will be nice.”
Yeah, Jennifer Sluts-around and I should become fast friends, considering we both like to fuck our way to the top.
Stop it, my inner voice says. Stop it. He promoted you before all that stuff happened. You earned this office, Ellie.
Too bad I’ll only get to enjoy my sudden ascension up the corporate ladder for one day. As soon as I find that phone, I’m out of here.
Well, assuming that’s after Adeline leaves. I allow myself a little smile at that. I practically get to spend the entire day with Adeline.
“Are you just going to stand there wasting Stonewall time and money?” McAllister asks, breaking me out of my happy moment. “Or should we get to work dismantling your secrets?”
“Ugggh,” I say under my breath. Thank God Adeline is here today, or I might stab him with a pencil. “I’m ready when you are,” I say, tipping my head up and walking past him to the open door of my office. “I won’t be around much today. I have a VIP.”
The office is… well, what I expected the second they said Heath’s annex. It’s the same dark paneling, the same massive hardwood desk, the same leather chairs. In other words, ugly.
I walk over to the desk as McAllister follows, me taking a seat in the gigantic executive chair, him perching nonchalantly on the corner of the desk.
“They’re all VIPs, Miss Hatcher. Today’s guest is no different than yesterday’s. So you will make time for me and my questions.”
“Oh, really?” I challenge.
“Really,” he snarls.
“Well,” I say, opening the top desk drawer to find a shitload of Heath’s old stuff, including cigars. I make a face as I hold one up between my fingers. “Smells like these things in here still, you know. And it’s dark and ugly.”
“Uhhh…” Stonewall falters. “Sorry. Now why is today’s star more VIP than yesterday’s? Who, by the way, personally called me last night.”
“What? Brutus called you? Why?” But I know why. He’s going to sue us because he thinks I tried to kill him.
“Not Brutus, Andrew Manco. He called to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he will take his VIPness elsewhere should you leave the company.”
I have to turn away a little to hide my smile.
“Laugh all you want, Miss Hatcher. But it’s not funny. We’re trying to make the sale of Stonewall go as easy as—”
“Sale?” I say. What the hell?
“Oh, I forgot,” he says. “You had to dash out of the meeting yesterday to grab a tampon.”
I scrunch my eyebrows at him. Asshole. God. He’s such an asshole.
“Well,” I say, taking control of the conversation once more—and then I see the open door, get up, close it, and take a seat back in my chair—“what I do here is all very confidential.”
“Really?” Stonewall says, one eyebrow hitched up on his forehead.
“Really. I appear to be a silly escort. The girl who runs out for M&M’s when the rock stars get belligerent about the condition of the green room. But that is not, in fact, Mr. Stonewall, what I do here. I smooth egos, I give advice, I lend a friendly ear to the world’s rich and famous when they feel like talking about their very unique problems.”
He’s got a very confused look on his face.
“I’m a life coach,” I tell him in simple terms. “To the stars. I even wrote a book. Seeing Stars.”
“What?” he asks.
I almost laugh at his confusion. “It’s not published yet though. I’m working on that.”
“This is real? What you’re telling me is real?” McAllister asks.
“Of course it’s real. I see stars. I’m the BFF to exactly twenty-seven high-level VIPs. That’s why they love me. I listen to them.”
“Are you some kind of therapist? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“No, I’m not a therapist, I’m a friend. They talk, I listen, I give advice, they take it. Success.” I hold my hands up in one of those voilà gestures. “So that’s why Andrew probably called you. I mean, I’ve been here a while. Seven years. I’ve known Andrew since he was sixteen. And Adeline and I met the very first year of my internship. She’s the VIP for today. And we always spend a lot of time together.”
“So you wrote a book on company time, is this what I’m supposed to take away from this conversation?”
“What? I wrote the book at home, asshole.”
“You used company resources for the source material of your book?”
“Why are you doing this?” I stand up and smooth down my dress. “Why do you have to be so mean? Why is everything about you and your company? I didn’t use anything from Stonewall. I made friends. Does this company get to keep my friends when we break up?”
I whirl around to walk out, but McAllister grabs my arm and pulls me close to him. My back tingling with the anticipation of connecting with his chest. I can smell the faint scent of cologne on his neck when he leans into mine and whispers, “I wasn’t being mean. I was asking all the questions the company lawyers will ask when your book hits the stands, Miss Hatcher. We need—”
“I have releases from everyone, Mac.” I stare into his eyes and he’s taken aback when I use his nickname. I’m not even sure why it comes out. “Sorry, Mr. Stonewall. I have releases. I don’t need your lawyers.”
His free hand slides into place just above my hipbone and the one holding my wrist lets go and palms my breast.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a whisper.
“I don’t think your dress is appropriate, Miss Hatcher.” He slides the hand on my hip down the silky fabric until it comes in contact with my thigh. “It’s far too flirty for a Thursday.”
He forces me back into his body. I’m practically in his lap as he continues to sit on the edge of the desk. “Well,” I say. “If you want a completely professional outfit you have to wait for Tuesday.”
“What?” He laughs.
I laugh too, breaking the sexy moment and the hostile one at the same time. And then I turn to face him. I can look into his blue eyes now, because he’s sitting and I’m standing. “Mondays I wear pencil skirt with button-down oversized shirt and a thin belt at my waist. Tuesdays are business chic. Fitted trousers with a cami shell and a matching blazer. Wednesdays are A-line skirt with an interesting blouse—”
“Interesting blouse?” he asks. “Well, that kimono thing was certainly interesting once I got your bra off you. What’s today?”
“Today,” I say, “is sex-it-up-for-happy-hour day. Ming from IT and I go for drinks every Thursday night.”
“Hmmm,” he says, his hands wandering up my dress and coming to a rest on my ass cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I ask, suddenly becoming breathless.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
“That wasn’t the question,” I whisper back.
“I’m feeling your ass. I’m waiting to be slapped. I’m giving you an out, but getting in a feel at the same time. I’m going to bend you over this desk in exactly ten seconds if you don’t walk out, Miss Hatcher. One. Two—”
“I have to go meet Adeline on the tarmac.”
“Three. So go. Four.”
“We’re going to get in trouble.”
“Five. Six. From who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Seven. Last chance, Miss Hatcher. Take it or leave it. Eight.”
I chew on a fingernail and even though every voice in my head is screaming at me to walk out, just when I get the nerve to break away, his fingers slide down my ass and slip between my legs. “Oh, shit,” I moan.
“Nine. Ten.”
I stare at him for what seems like eternity. Looking him straight in the eyes, wondering what he’ll do next.
And then I know, because he’s got me bent over the desk, the heel of his hand pushing down on the small of my back.
“Lie still, Miss Hatcher,” he says. “I’ll take it from here.”
I can barely breathe, but I’m panting hard at the same time. That makes no sense. Nothing makes any sense at all.
He lifts my dress up, the air bathing my bare skin with a coolness that both excites me and makes me panic. “Wait,” I say.
His hands caress me. Over each round ass cheek. Down the front of each thigh. “Don’t waste my time, Miss Hatcher. Get up and pull yourself together, or lie still and take it.”
My mouth falls open at the audacity of this man. But he hooks his fingertips into the lace of my panties and slides them down. Not all the way down. Just far enough for him to get access. Just enough so they are positioned right in the crease where my cheeks meet my thighs.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, stepping back a pace or two.
His touch is gone and I turn my head a little to look over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying the view.” He grabs the thick bulge beneath the fabric of his trousers and squeezes. “I’ve barely touched you, but you look ready to me.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a condom. The crinkle of foil and the small rip as he opens up the package make me swallow with a little bit of fear and a whole lot of anticipation.
“You keep them on hand, do you?”
He places one hand on either side of my face and leans down, the weight of his body pressing against my back, the heat of his breath flowing over the sensitive skin on the back of my neck, his hard dick pressing right at my bare entrance. “I found them in Heath’s desk, Miss Hatcher. Now do you want this or not?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping I don’t regret it. “Yes.”
He stands back up and I want nothing more than for his body to cover me again. I want to feel him against me.
I am crazy. Why am I letting him do this?
A moment later his belt jingles and the zipper on his trousers makes a ripping sound. I wonder how big he is. I didn’t get a good look yesterday.
I feel the tip pressing against my opening and let out a soft moan.
“I hope you’re not a screamer,” he says, easing himself inside me a little bit. “Because Stephanie is only a few feet away on the other side of that door.”
His hands grip either side of my hips and he pulls my whole body towards him, making me slide on the sleek wooden desk. Oh, God. I might come right now.
Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come. Don’t let him get you so quickly again.
But then he leans down over my body again, one hand pressing on the desk next to my face, one hand sneaking under my thigh as he begins to caress my clit in small, slow circles.
He thrusts into me, hard. Hard enough to make me gasp.
“You are a screamer, aren’t you, Miss Hatcher. I can tell. But if you do it now, I will gag you with my tie and that will take away the few minutes I have left to fuck you good and make you come. So don’t.”
Holy shit. I have never been so turned on in my life. And everything he says is so stupid and caveman. I can’t help it though, it’s hot as hell.
He starts fucking me hard, and even though I try to control it, I can’t. I can’t. I start moaning loudly as the wave of pleasure quickly turns into a building climax.
“Shh,” he says, whispering the words close in my ear. That just sets me off more. He pulls my head up off the desk by my hair and cups his other hand around my mouth, pumping himself into me so fast, so hard, I—
“Shit!” I yell into his palm.
“Fuck,” he says. And once I stop yelling, he takes his hand away, places both of them back on my hips, and grips me so tight as he fucks me from behind, I fully expect to have bruises.
When he comes, he collapses down on top of my back again, his chest heaving with effort. Mine is doing the same because his full weight is pressing me against the wooden desk.
“I’m going to need you to sign a release form for this, Miss Hatcher. You won’t mind, since you’re already familiar with them. Stop by my office after you’re done playing Life Coach to the Stars and we’ll get the legalities of a workplace sexual relationship out of the way.”
And then he stands up, puts himself back together, and walks out of my office by way of our connecting doors.