Chapter Four
Shelby
I looked at him. Jason Bowman, the man who hadn't shut up for the eleven months that I had worked for him, was finally speechless. His face completely drained and his green eyes widened. He opened his mouth then closed it again, struggling to find something to say. I laughed in disbelief. What the hell had he thought would happen to me once I quit? Well, I knew the answer to that. This was Jason Bowman we were dealing with: ego so big it needed its own MetroCard when he took the train. He had most likely thought to himself that after I had walked out on him, I would realize what a horrible mistake I had made. Right, how would I ever work again? Working for him was already the top; where would I go from there?
Unbelievable. He had probably thought that I had been crying on my kitchen floor wondering what was next for me, thinking about how I would do anything to go back to working for him.
"What?" he finally sputtered.
"I said," I started smugly, "I got a new job. Aren't you happy for me?"
"No... you're lying to me."
"Of course. I don't have another job. I was waiting in my apartment for the day that I could come back on my knees and grovel for my old job back. You got me, Jason. That's it."
"No," he repeated. “You can't... you have to come back."
"I don't have to do anything. I don't work for you anymore."
"No, I need you to... you have to come back."
"This isn't a discussion, Jason. I quit already."
"You have to stay," he said again raising his voice. What the hell was wrong with him? There most likely wouldn't be any shortage of people wanting to work under Jason Bowman. As good as I was at my job, I knew realistically that I wasn’t irreplaceable. Jason was the dashing Ken doll of WRTC. Perfect smile, perfect hair, ace reporting, and his star only rose year by year.
"Where was this during all those months you were ungrateful, difficult, and demanding?" I asked him. "Why would I ever come back to work for you?" He came forward and wrapped his hands around my arms, looking down at me.
"Victoria is still at the party. We can go to her together and tell her that—"
"Oh my god, you're impossible," I said, shaking him off. "I'm leaving, Jason. You want to beg me to stay, do it, but it won't work." I turned and started towards the door, but he grabbed me again, pulling me back.
"Shelby, wait," he said desperately. I whirled around to face him. He pulled me into him, so close we were almost touching. His other hand cupped my face, and he leaned in to kiss me. I jerked back, freeing myself from him, almost knocking into a chair behind me.
"Jason Bowman, have you lost your goddamn mind? How much have you had to drink tonight? Do you need someone to hail you a cab home?" I asked, wondering for a second whether I was the one dreaming. Jason had just... no, but he couldn't have; this was Jason we were talking about. He slept with models and didn't date anyone for longer than two months. He had fan girls. Piercing green eyes, thick blond hair, and a megawatt smile? The attention frankly was deserved. His job paid him well enough to own a penthouse in Tribeca, which didn't hurt his love life one bit, but me? I wasn't his type, not even drunk and desperate. By the looks of things, he had resorted to seduction to convince me since begging hadn’t worked.
He didn't answer my question. Instead, he advanced again, cupping my face and staring into my eyes. I pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge. He changed tack, leaning in and kissing my neck. My eyes fluttered shut feeling his soft lips against my skin. How did he know I loved when men touched me there? I tilted my head back to give him better access and gasped when I felt him use his teeth.
There were rumors about him; everyone had heard them. Every time he was done with a girl she had something to say. He had made rounds through the hair-and-makeup department, and the only thing that any of those girls wanted when they were done was another ride. There was something there, obviously. I wasn't blind. He was a good-looking guy. A good-looking guy who happened to be the first guy to touch me in a few months.
His lips trailed along my jaw. I pulled away slightly, just far enough so I could look at him again. His thumb ran over my cheek, and his eyes burned with lust. You know what, I thought, why would I say no to this? What would I have to lose? We didn't work together anymore, the last time I had gotten any was three months ago, and there had to be a reason why women liked this prick so much. He apparently wanted to show me. Why not?
I leaned forward, and he closed the distance. His hand went to the back of my head, fisting a handful of my hair. He tilted my head back, plunging his tongue into my mouth. His other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against him. His body was hard, rock solid under his suit; I had felt him when I had tried to push him away. The masculine, expensive scent of his cologne surrounded me. The hand he had on my waist slid down, lower, around my back, and finally cupped my ass. He ground into me with his hips, and I felt it. Oh, so that was why everyone wanted to sleep with him.
He left my mouth, kissing my jaw and neck again, trailing down my chest to my breasts. My chest heaved; I was panting. He cupped one of my breasts as he buried his face in my cleavage.
"Jason," I sighed. We can't, I didn't say. Whether we could or couldn't was irrelevant; we were going to. I could feel him through his pants. The panties I was wearing were already soaked. My body was screaming for him; it didn't matter that we were in a control room and the door wasn't locked. Right then, I needed to feel him. I reached for the buckle of his belt. He took over, quickly undoing his pants. There was no time for either of us to get naked. He grabbed my hips and guided me backward to a desk.
I hopped up onto it. Jason pulled the band of his underwear down, releasing his cock. I had felt it before, but it was even bigger than I had expected: hard and engorged. I felt an ache between my legs, anticipating what he'd feel like inside of me. The head of his cock was round and bulbous, glistening with precum. He grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the desk. I pulled the skirt of my dress up to my hips as he stood between my thighs. We kissed again. I gasped, feeling his hand on my clit. He massaged me firmly with his fingers, making me squirm.
His hand disappeared, and I felt the head of his dick tease my opening. I pushed my hips forward, trying to get more of him inside me.
"Do you have protection?" he asked. Fuck, I thought. He was asking me? Of course, I didn't. Between the two of us, who was the one who most likely kept condoms on them? I shook my head.
"No, I have an IUD. I'm clean."
"I am too. Are you sure?" he said, barely pressing the head past my lips. I knew better than to take him at his word, but I was too turned on to care. If I didn't feel him inside me, I'd combust.
"Jason, please." I pushed my hips forward as he guided the thick head of his cock into my opening. I gasped, stretching to accommodate him. This was what all those women were talking about. He pulled out slightly then thrust himself into me to the root.
I cried out, and he did it again, thrusting hard and fast, hitting me as deep as he could go. I leaned back; my hands hit the technical controls on the deck behind me. He grabbed my hips as he fucked me. The fact that we had worked together had stopped me from ever really thinking about him this way, but it felt like we were making up for the year of anger and tension that had bubbled between us. My lips stretched tight around him; I wanted to scream every time he sunk his huge rod into me.
His groans came from deep in his chest. A lock of his usually impeccable blond hair fell over his forehead. He rammed into me, stimulating every hot spot I had. I was climbing, dangerously close to climaxing. I wanted release, but I wanted to relish his long, punishing thrusts. He growled as he pounded me; his hands were probably going to leave bruises, but I didn't care. I brought one of my hands to my clit, massaging in time to his thrusts.
My orgasm exploded out of my core. It surged through my limbs, and everything went white. I gasped, feeling a jolt every time he thrust into me.
"Shelby... Shel, I'm gonna come. Where do you want it?" he choked. I had said goodbye to good sense and reason the second he had touched me with that giant tool.
"Come inside me," I whispered. He cursed, groaning, and I felt his cock surge. His load launched inside me. He thrust slowly, milking himself into my pussy till he was done. We were silent while we caught our breath. His face was buried in my neck, and his cock was still inside me. I cleared my throat and scooted back on the desk to get his attention. He got it, slowly withdrawing and moving back so I could get off of the desk.
I straightened my panties and smoothed the front of my dress. Whatever mood had taken over while we were fucking had lifted, and all I wanted was to get out of there. He was fixing the front of his pants, zipping up his fly.
"No one hears about this," I said.
"Okay," he said flippantly.
"Hey," I said. He looked over at me. He was smirking, looking pleased with himself and I hated it. "I'm serious. You better not say anything to anyone, Bowman."
"Why would I do something like that?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. "We've been gone twenty minutes now, maybe half an hour, I don't have to say shit. Everyone out there can put two and two together."
"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"
"I don't know what you're ashamed about. Frankly, you and me, it's been a long time coming."
"This is never happening again."
"Of course not," he said sarcastically.
"I wanted to know whether the rumors were true. You know what people say about you, right? You've got to."
"What do they say?" he asked. I shrugged.
"Everyone claims they had to go back after one time, but I don't know if I feel the same way."
"You're bullshitting me," he said. The ego on this guy never ceased to amaze me.
"This isn't happening again," I said firmly. "I wanted to know what all the hype was about and now I know."
"Are you going to come back?"
"To what? Work? Here? I told you, Jason, I already have another job, and they’ll have to kick me out on my ass before I reconsider coming back here to work with you."
"You can't be serious, Shel. Don't be like this."
"Like what?" I demanded. "You're the one with the problem if you can't see why a person would walk out of their job just so they didn't have to deal with you anymore. Goodbye, Jason." I smoothed my skirt and started towards the door.
"I don't want you to leave, Shelby," he said behind me. Who was this? Earnest and apologetic Jason? I could think of times when I would have given in to him in the past if he had apologized to me and meant it, but not now. I turned and looked at him.
"Goodbye," I repeated. I opened the door and walked out, smoothing my hands over my dress self-consciously. Someone must have seen me walk out with him; I knew how it would look if we walked back in together. That office gossip would make rounds whether I still worked here or not. I stopped and decided to go to the bathroom first. Standing in front of the mirror, thanking God for transfer-proof makeup, my mind wandered.
Had he really meant what he'd said? If he had, then that meant he was going to miss me. I could see that. It would probably be a pain in the ass getting used to another producer, but even then, if he was going to miss me, then that was his problem. He had had me for a long time, a lot longer than he had deserved. I deserved to work with someone who actually appreciated what I brought to the table. I'd miss a few of the friends that I made here, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be missing him, not even after tonight. My panties were uncomfortably wet with his and my joined fluids soaking them. That's what I'd take with me from him: the memory of the quickie in the control room. I walked out of the bathroom, back into the party. Once I finished saying bye, I was going back home.