Chapter 31 #3
‘I wanted to get the Tube to Canary Wharf this morning but no, you sent Jackson for me without asking. Then I go for coffee with a potential client and you have the audacity to plant Jackson in the café to spy on me. I can’t believe you really don’t trust me at all.
Then, then , I wanted to walk here just now.
I needed to walk here. Nevertheless, who’s waiting to bundle me into the back of a car when I walk out of the office? Yes, that’s right, Jackson.’
He lifts one arm across his waist and rubs his chin with his opposite hand.
‘I never said I wanted to live in a cage, Gregory. I don’t want to fear walking in the streets. I don’t want to be watched by Jackson, who, who , I currently live with, incidentally, and I certainly don’t need to be controlled by you!’
‘It’s not controlling; it’s protecting.’
I pull off my coat and throw it on top of my bag. ‘Don’t give me shitty sarcasm, Gregory; it really doesn’t become you. Why don’t you start with something like, “Scarlett, I’m sorry I’m trying to restrain your liberty, I have absolutely no fucking right to do that”?’
‘How about I start with this: you left out some details this morning about Luke Davenport.’ He loosens his blue, silk tie a notch and takes two steps towards me.
‘So now you’re stalking me as well as Jackson.’
‘Social media can be very insightful.’
‘Well how’s this for insightful: I dated Luke at uni for six months.
It was a juvenile relationship and I didn’t tell you about him because there’s nothing to tell.
He’s in banking now and I stay in touch with him because he’s a good friend and one day, he might put some work my way.
Pardon me for not fucking people and ditching them like I don’t give a shit.
And while we’re on the subject, I don’t see why I have to share everything with you when you won’t tell me anything.
I never know what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling.
You’re making me dizzy with all your secrets and lies. ’
‘Damn it, Scarlett, I’m trying. Who do you think you are to storm into my office and start yelling at me like a lunatic?’
I take three strides towards him. ‘Lunatic? Lunatic? If anyone is driving anyone crazy here, it’s you driving me crazy!’
‘I drive you crazy?’ He takes another two steps toward me until he’s standing so close, I can feel the heat of his anger.
My train of thought has gone. ‘Yes. You drive me fucking crazy.’
He takes my head in his hands and kisses me forcefully. I thrust my fingers into his hair and pull. He hoists me around his waist and carries me to the frosted-glass door. Reaching a hand behind me, I turn the lock.
‘I think I’m going insane,’ I pant.
‘That makes two of us.’
He slams my back against the door and rubs a hand up my thigh, moving my dress to my waist. He starts to pull my lace thong down my legs.
‘The desk,’ I pant.
Casting a lamp and documents to the back of the desk, he sits me onto the edge.
With one finger, he unhurriedly draws my thong down my legs to the floor.
The feel of lace caressing my charged skin is more than my raging hormones can take.
I pull the buckle of his belt loose and unfasten his trousers.
He pulls them down to reveal his long, enticing cock.
‘You can’t keep using sex to get out of the doghouse, Ryans.’
He steps back, breaking our contact. ‘No?’
I shake my head. ‘No. It’s not fair. It’s a lethal weapon and I’m defenceless.’
He bends to bite my breast over my dress. ‘Then just start doing what I say, baby.’
I gasp as he pulls me from the desk and flips me so I’m bent forwards, my arms and chest face down on the glass top.
‘I’m going to spank this beautiful arse, just like you deserve.’
I swallow deeply, strangely turned on by the thought of a spanking. I lick my lips as I watch him over my shoulder raising his big palm and I cry out with lust when the sting lands.
He runs a hand from the top of my back and strokes the pearl of my arse then rams two fingers into me.
‘Wet for me.’ He slides his fingers through my slickness then uses it to move his fingers like silk across my clit.
He draws his fingers back to my rear entrance, applying disastrously good pressure to the place that’s never been touched.
I’m already panting for him, my breathing rising to erratic drags as my temperature rises.
‘So fucking beautiful.’
The fact that we’re fully clothed, in his office, and his staff are just beyond the frosted-glass wall, adds to my frantic state. We could be caught any moment.
I grip the edges of the desk as he crashes into me.
I know I can’t make another sound.
Having to absorb the sensation intensifies the feeling.
His breathing comes heavier and faster. He holds my hips and yanks me back onto him, deepening each drive.
His hand delivers another spank. I squirm as the heat of my burning flesh resonates in my sex.
My hips push back against him, begging for more.
He slaps my cheek harder on a low groan.
‘Again,’ I beg. I can’t believe this is me.
Frantic. Sweating. Craving the kind of sex I’ve only read about.
He thrusts deep and slaps me for a fourth, hardest time. The delicious medley of pain and obscene pleasure taking me to the edge.
‘Gregory, I’m going to come.’
He wraps his arm around me and circles my clit as my muscles clamp down on his solid length. ‘Come with me.’
Finally, I let go. As quietly as possible, gripping the sides of his desk, I come with him.
He rests inside me until we’ve both caught our breath, then he helps me up and kisses me gently on the lips.
‘Gregory,’ I whisper, ‘Luke Davenport is gay.’
He kisses me again with tight, upturned lips as he leans around me and takes a handful of tissues from his top drawer then hands them to me as he fastens his trousers.
‘I think this is yours,’ he says, retrieving my thong from the floor.
‘But you would look so good in it,’ I tease as I discreetly deposit the used tissues into his bin.
Almost immediately after Gregory unlocks the office door, there’s a knock and a lady brings a trolley holding tea and coffee into the room. I don’t need a mirror to tell me that my cheeks are the colour of my name.
After lunch, we slip back into our professional personas, taking opposite sofas at the table and discuss options for the structure of Eclectic’s new deal with Shangzen Tek.
Our little episode has relieved the tension from us both.
He talks finance and products and I draw diagrams and discuss tax implications.
It’s after four when we finally agree on some options for Gregory to explore in more detail with Mr Cheung and his team.
‘Whilst I don’t mind arguing with you, or rather I don’t mind the making up, it’s already dark and Jackson’s here anyway so would you please let him drive you home?’ Gregory asks.
‘You’re not coming?’
‘I have a few things to do. Jackson can come back for me in a couple hours.’
‘You could work from home.’
‘Have you seen yourself in that dress? I’ll never get anything done.’
I defy any woman to argue with that. Instead, I agree to let Jackson drive me home and plant a kiss on Gregory’s brow before I leave.
‘Scarlett,’ he calls as I’m closing the office door. ‘Thanks. You really are a good lawyer.’
‘You’re welcome, Mr Ryans.’
My mood couldn’t be in greater juxtaposition to how I felt when I arrived at the office. Walking past the reception desk, I wonder whether the blonde knows what her precious Mr Ryans got up to at lunchtime.
‘Hi, Jackson.’
‘Scarlett.’
‘I’m sorry for being rude earlier. I wasn’t cross with you; he can be incredibly obstinate.’
All Jackson says is, ‘I’ve worked for him for a long time.’
I suspect that’s as close to him accepting my apology and agreeing with me as I’ll get.
Inside the car, I tap on the partition and Jackson rolls down the screen.
‘Is Sandy moved in?’
‘Mostly.’
‘It’ll be strange to see her in a different house.’
A phone rings through the speakers in the car. Leaning forwards, I see the caller is Boss .
‘Sorry, Scarlett, I need to take this,’ Jackson says as the privacy partition slowly draws to the ceiling.
I try not to allow myself to be irritated again.
* * *
‘That was Gregory?’ I ask, already knowing the answer, when Jackson opens my door.
‘Scarlett, I need you to do something for me, okay?’
‘It depends what that thing is.’
‘I need to you go straight up to the apartment and stay in. I have to head back to the office and I’ll bring Gregory home in a couple of hours. Can you do that?’
Rolling my eyes, I head up to the apartment that smells of cleaning products and is as spotless as ever, thanks to Amy.
I change out of my dress and into jeans and a jumper.
I attempt to switch on the television in the lounge but this damned latest technology is not Scarlett Heath friendly.
I make a coffee and sip it at the breakfast bar.
As boredom sets in, I start to I feel peckish.
The fridge is full of health-conscious snacks but there’s nothing to make a meal.
This is ridiculous, I’m a grown woman.
Throwing a tan, leather bag over my shoulder, I resolve to make something tasty for dinner. I have about an hour and a half until Gregory will be home. I can shop and get some good food underway in that time.
I send Sandy a message and she suggests that broccoli and stilton soup is easy enough to make if you have a blender and that it’s difficult to go wrong with steak, the worst-case scenario being overcooking it, but at least you can still put a meal on the table.
I fill my basket at the store and pop in a fancy – by my standards, not Gregory’s – bottle of red wine.