Gavin
Boston was never where I ever saw myself living. I spent my formative years in Ohio, wanting to get out of suburbia. All my life I was taught that you go to the job, and you didn’t expect the job to come to you.
That was how I ended up in Chicago, then New York, and finally, to the Cates Corporation headquarters in Boston. For twelve years I’d worked myself to the bone climbing the corporate ladder.
In thirty-five years I followed careful and strategically laid plans. Until Boston. Until her.
For over a week I’d adjusted to a new office, new assistant, and new city. In that time, my nights were spent at the Cameo Hotel. I should have spent my evenings looking for a new home. I even had a realtor, but one thing besides acclimation stopped me—Emma.
From the first moment I saw her, there was an attraction I couldn’t comprehend. Feelings I didn’t want consumed me for a woman I didn’t even know.
Nearly every night when I walked in, there she was. Unassuming. Beautiful. Fucking alluring.
She was a conflict of interest and a distraction I didn’t need.
As I walked across the marble floor of the Cameo Hotel, my body searched for her while my eyes tried to ignore the call. I flicked my gaze up and sure enough, she was watching me cross the lobby, lips slightly parted.
Fuck, her lips. Indeed, fuck her lips.
My cock twitched, begging for the image my thoughts had conjured.
I blew out a breath when I stepped onto the elevator and away from those eyes.
When I’d moved to Boston from New York, it was for a clean start as much as it was the first step of my promotion. I knew no one outside of the people I worked with, and that suited me just fine.
But fuck if I didn’t want to know her.
She made me want to fight with her, just to watch the anger flare in her eyes while the smile never left her face. Professional to a fault. A fault I wanted to crack, to break open, to see inside.
It was a feeling I hated. Work was my life. It demanded all of my time and energy, leaving nothing for personal relationships.
As soon as I was through the door of my room, I shed my suit piece by piece, a very noticeable tent in my trousers.
“You don’t fucking dictate my actions,” I grumbled down to the bulge pulsing beneath the fabric.
It was a lie. The desire I had for her was what led me to call her for the most innocuous things. Simply to see her, to have her close.
To breathe her in was an aphrodisiac.
I despised that she made me feel that way, because it left me wary of her. My ex-wife had used her sexuality to get to me, used my desire to get a ring, and used my money to finance her lovers. The bite of that betrayal had never left, and had never healed.
It angered me to want Emma. Angered me that every night I pumped my cock to thoughts of her.
In a petty move, I took that emotion out on her. It was an attempt to push her away, which was thwarted by my inability to keep her there.
While my first room had been a disaster, the room she moved me to was actually very nice. There were a few small wear-and-tear things that came with age and use, but they had done a good job of maintaining the space.
I’d have to let Richard Hayes, the president of Cameo International, know how nice his hotel was. Even if I complained every day.
After a week, the housekeeping staff had upped their game, making it harder every day to find fault with something, some reason to bring her up.
“You don’t need to see her,” I said to myself, but as I stared at the coffee pot on the wet bar, at the assortment of drinks and sweeteners, at the single packet of sugar, a new plan formed.
Before I could stop myself I was at the phone, dialing down to reception.
“Good evening, Mr. Grayson.” Her voice hit my ears, and a shudder rolled through me. The formality that she addressed me with always set off my fantasies.
“There is only one sugar packet, Emma. I need two more.”
There was a small pause, and it made me smile, knowing she was probably cursing me out.
“Right away, Mr. Grayson.”
The anger in her voice only fueled my own. I wanted to take her down a peg, take her down to her knees.
I was so hard that the slightest touch had my head falling back. How would she react if I opened the door stroking my dick?
That idea was a little sobering, calming me down enough to position my length so it wasn’t obvious.
Control and planning were my strong suits, but she continued to wreck them, while I continued to let her. It was a dangerous game, but with every bite I took, every hit of her, she beat me down.
While I won every battle, she was slowly winning the war, and I couldn’t stand for that.
The soft rap of her knuckles on the door pulled me from my thoughts of her to the actual physical version.
My nostrils flared as I opened the door and glared down at her. Her breath hitched, making my hand twitch at my side. The lust running through my veins struggled to take over. All I wanted was to drag her in, bend her over the couch, and fuck all of my frustration out on her.
“Your sugar.” She held out her hand, palm up. Five little brown packets sat against the creamy white of her skin.
I snatched them up, forcing myself to ignore the fire from the brief contact with her skin. “I said two, Emma. Can’t you count?”
“Anticipation, sir.”
“What?” I asked. My attempt not to groan out at her words were masked by the growl of my singular question.
“If you need two more, it means you’ll need three for a second cup.”
Was she truly anticipating my needs, or making it so I didn’t call her for sugar the following day?
“Nice to see you know basic addition. Did you need a calculator?”
A smile drew up on her face, forced but with a glimmer of hatred. “Is there anything else I can help you with tonight, Mr. Grayson?”
Yes, get on your fucking knees and choke on my dick until I come down your throat.
Eloquence went out the window in her presence. All I wanted to do was devour every inch of her.
“You’re dismissed.”
That fire flared again in her eyes, accentuated by a brief widening. “Have a good night.”
I said nothing more, gave her no return gesture, simply slammed the door in her face. Anything else would have led to a case of sexual harassment, and I would not allow myself to fall that far.
“Really, Gavin?” I said as I propped myself against the door.
Guilt and anger flooded in. I was an asshole by nature, but I still didn’t take pleasure in being one to her, even in my state. Still, Emma took everything I threw at her in stride. She never backed down or cowered at my intimidation.
A strong woman was exactly what I wanted, but not what I needed with everything that was going on. There was no time for niceties, for my affections to grow. The only thing I had time for was sex, but Emma evoked more than the desire for her pussy.
A quick fuck wasn’t what I wanted, but what I did want from her was still a mystery. I couldn’t seem to leave her alone, which made one thing for certain—she’d be back. I’d find another reason to have her in my space the next day, and the day after, and every day following until I’d had enough.
The sugar packets fell from my hand into the trash.
I drank my coffee black.