Bryn
“Don’t lick my balls, man, tell me the stats,” Christos tells Cole as they examine HOS market research.
A team of five other men and women are present. I’ve been silently watching Christos who has only been speaking to Cole throughout the meeting.
“Well, fuck, you’re moody,” Cole grumbles, sending the paperwork Christos’s way.
Christos scans the documents while the team begins explaining to the rest of us.
Aaric watches the presentation—silent.
Something about the fact that he’s so quiet seems sexy to me. He’s clearly the more powerful man in the room, but his attitude is calm, in control, subdued, even though his energy is a pulsing, magnetizing, electric thing.
I exhale and try to take notes. The information we have gathered will be incorporated into the software this week. I’m trying to focus on business—exclusively, because whenever I start thinking of Aaric and the possibility of being with him, I get distracted and my childhood fears arise.
Mom once told me if you want to earn yourself half a man, be half of a woman. If you want a full man, you need to be the full version of yourself. Never expect anyone to complete you. Don’t be two halves to make a whole, be two wholes and make something more.
I’m trying to be that.
But the truth is, I’m running on adrenaline here. Fantasizing about this man touching me—taking me—is thrilling, and now that I see him every day, the sexual tension between us is thick enough it’s a miracle other people can fit inside this room with us.
I’m silent as they keep hashing things out, and once the group departs, Aaric gives me a look that makes me linger behind as they shut the door.
“So if the warehouse across the street is available and yours, I’d like that. It’ll be the perfect place. When do you think it can be ready?”
“With money, anything can be ready fast.”
“I’m so glad I partnered with you.” I smile.
He reclines in his chair with a cocky smirk, his eyes gleaming ruthlessly. “Am I good enough for you now?”
“Fuck you, I don’t care about your money.” I shoot him a scowl.
“You care so much you’ve been begging me for it.”
“I’m not interested in you in that way because of your money.”
“Then I see no problem why you can’t go out on a date with me.”
“You had a fiancé only weeks ago. While you have no issues, I mind it.”
“And yet you’ve never been interested in me like this before. Could the competition be whetting your appetite, sweetheart?”
“It’s not whetting my anything.”
“Is it wetting your thighs, love?”
“I resent you calling me endearments in that tone.”
“I can’t help it if they sound irreverent—you beg for it.” He stands to approach.
“You know what? You really are a moody son of a bitch!” I cry, standing to leave.
He reaches out to grab my wrist, and he yanks me to his chest, and the mouth that had just been cursing me is suddenly claiming mine.
I’m shocked enough that I freeze. But he is kissing me.
Kissing me stupid.
Fucking kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before.
And unlike the time we were kids, he doesn’t relent.
His hand slides up to grip a wad of my hair in his fist, and Aaric slants his head, exerting pressure with his mouth, forcing me to open my mouth for him. “Open, little bit,” he rasps commandingly.
I do—because…I don’t know.
Oh God, his tongue should be illegal! All of him should be illegal. He thrusts it into my mouth, kissing me—passion, sexual frustration, more.
And what started out as an angry, punishing kiss soon starts becoming softer, his hands begin to explore me, he begins to really savor me, to caress the back of my head with his fingers.
He lowers his head and grazes his teeth over my nipple, his hands kneading. I’m grabbing at him too, sort of out of control. I can’t think of anything except how much I want this—him—how much I ache all over. How good he smells, how the calluses in his hands feel against my skin, and how his thick lips feel as he moves his mouth over my nipple.
He’s panting, his breath hitting my skin as we stare at each other.
I take inventory of the situation and realize he weighs a ton, and that he’s hard against my tummy.
His lips hover over mine, his forehead, his eyes, his entire face hovering over me before he leans down and takes my mouth. Softly at first, brushing his fingertips over my forehead as if I’ve got something he needs to brush back. But I don’t. I don’t think I do. Hell, I don’t care if I do. I grab his shoulders and massage a little.
“Aaric,” I beg, lifting my mini dress so he can touch me.
“You fucking tease,” he rasps, leaning to lick his tongue into my ear. I close my eyes as he dips it into my ear and I feel a warm shiver shoot down my spine.
“You fucking tease,” he says, starting to undo my buttons, and I just don’t even know what to say but please undo my buttons, please make it stop, please give me take me do whatever you want but don’t stop touching me.
“Do you like teasing me?” he says, opening my top, and when I nod and bite my lip nervously, he’s lowering his face, sucking my nipple as if in punishment.
I groan and turn my head aside as he sucks me again, slipping his hand into my waistband and panties. “Do you like getting me hard?”
I groan, feeling him rub my clit at the same time he grinds his erection against me.
“You’re so much more trouble than you look.”
I feel his hard bulge bite into my pelvis as he shifts, raising my legs to his sides. I raise my arms and curl them around his neck as he settles himself between my thighs, and before I know it he’s free of his slacks, pushing them down to his ankles, and he’s sheathed and he’s entering me, so huge I almost scream from the sensation of fullness, and then I just want more, more, more, and he’s giving me so much we’re both just bodies moving and straining to get closer.
We’re groaning, kissing and groping, my back nearly breaking against the desk and my nails nearly drawing his blood on his back, and his hips relentlessly pummeling against mine as we kiss like our lives depend on it and like we have no control, like we’re animals and don’t care of the consequences, only want to fuck and taste, fuck and groan, fuck and bite down on each other’s tongue and then suck it and kiss while our breaths explode against one another’s face and our bodies strain to get closer and our hips madly hump and we’re humping like crazy and I’m crying out and he’s coming and we’re both coming and it’s coming over us like crazy and it’s here between us and even then we keep fucking as we come…even keep fucking a little slower as it starts easing—
--what’s my name?
--fuck, he weighs a ton
--shit, but I’m not saying a peep about that because I still want his dick inside me for a little longer
--God. BEST SEX EVER!
--shit. What did I do?
--um, this is going to be awkward.
It’s actually not awkward yet because he pulls out, and he’s still hard, and he rolls me around, makes me wet again, and gives it to me again.
There, folded over.
We don’t talk, it would ruin it, but our bodies do the talking for us, his hands, his sucking mouth, his groans and my moans, the way we move, sort of like our bodies don’t agree with the words we sometimes tell each other, like being close is what we were born to do—how we instinctively crave to be.
When he asks me to come, come harder for him, I come a second time, and it feels like I do come harder. Harder because he wanted me to.
He’s breathing harshly in my ear moments later, and I’m fighting to breathe at all.
I really think we needed that. It was a good way to work each other out of our systems. He stands and helps me up, and then he helps me rearrange my clothes.
He looks at me and there’s intimacy there and heat. I look down.
“That was actually the best sex I’ve ever had,” I breathe as he steps aside and heads over to his window.
He drags a hand over his jaw, staring outside, his shoulders broad and square.
“God, you’re an asshole.”
I start to leave. He stops me, a hand on my elbow. “Come home with me tonight.”
“What for?”
“For more of that.”
I exhale. “So you liked it too.”
He looks at my mouth.
The look melts me, heats me, it’s so raw. I breathe, “You’re an asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you until you admit it.” I tilt my chin, but inside I really just crave to hear it. Our eyes hold deadlocked.
“Put your hand on the front of my pants.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
I do. He’s really hard. I rub him. “Did you not come?” A smile curves my lips. I’m teasing him.
He looks at me, the heat intensifying.
“Oh my God, you’ve got pre-cum coming out already…”
And when I gasp he moves swiftly to take my mouth and kiss me stupid. Long and slow.
“I can wrap up at seven. Why don’t you meet me in the lobby when I’m done?”
He halts my hand, on his hard dick, and doesn’t remove it. I can feel him, hard and pulsing as I try to swallow. “I have a date with Natchez. One of my dogs. But can I use a computer while you finish off…”
“Use my laptop.”
I pry my hand away from his hot body and grab his laptop, then I start to take it outside.
“You can stay here if you’d like.”
I halt midtrack. Eye the leather sectional in the seating area of his office and the glass coffee table before it. “This will do.” I smile, and he smiles briefly before he heads behind his desk to get business done.
On his laptop, I discover a folder titled Bryn. I click on it. Pictures of me appear. Some when I was younger, others of me now.
I look down at my lap. He’s moody today, but a part of me knows I’ve been giving him a tough time about us. About me and him. I can’t imagine how frustrating I have been, and how hard it is for him to see me every day too, and maybe want things that I keep fighting him on.
As Aaric finishes up, I close his laptop and bring it back to his desk.
“You have a folder called Bryn in your computer.” I feel flushed, and I’m as unable to stop the flush as I am to keep from smiling. “I have one too but in my mind. Called Aaric.”
He looks up at me, eyebrows high.
“I’ve got two what ifs in my life that have always hurt me to think about. You’re one of them, Aaric,” I admit.
He stands up and pushes his chair in, coming around to lean on his desk, attentive. “What’s the other one?”
I hesitate.
“The night my parents died, they called me, I got home around midnight. Got ready for bed. At 12:55 a.m., I thought about calling back, but I convinced myself it would be better if I called the next day.”
“12:59 is the time the fire started,” he says.
I nod, my throat suddenly tight.
His eyes shadow, and for a while he says nothing.
“When Leilani went into labor, I was away on business. She ended up in some shitty hospital. My daughter didn’t make it.” He eyes me for a long moment. “I thought I didn’t want her. I convinced myself it happened because I didn’t want her.”
“Of course it didn’t happen because of that. She wasn’t in your plans. We couldn’t have known.”
“We should’ve.”
“But we didn’t.”
He reaches out to touch my shoulder, peering at my face. “Hey. The fire wasn’t your fault.”
“Neither is the death of your baby.”
He looks at my whole face, then at my mouth. “Some what ifs, some you never get to do over, Bryn,” he says.
I blink, dipping my head in consent. “Sometimes you get another try,” I breathe.
As I hold back my tears, he sets his thumb on my bottom lip, and kisses me. It’s just a soft kiss as he says, “I’ll take you home.”
And I ask if he can take me to Natchez instead, just because I want to prolong this. Just because, even when consciously I want to put distance between us, subconsciously I seem to want something else.