15. Catriona
Fifteen
Catriona
“Ihave to take this,” Rian says and gets up from the conference table, his phone to his ear.
His shoulders stretch his white shirt just right and his charcoal trousers mould around his firm butt as he walks to the door.
“Hi… Yes, I’m still up for tonight… I’ll meet you there…
No, I’m still in the office… Yes, I know it’s Saturday.
Some of us actually take our jobs seriously… ”
I roll my eyes as his voice grows faint when he leaves his office.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Rian take his job this seriously.
My knees creak as I get up from my chair, my body sore from sitting for so long.
I stretch my neck to the side as I stop in front of the windows.
The early evening light is darkening quickly with incoming clouds.
I should take the bus home instead of walking if Rian ever calls it a day.
We’ve been here for several hours already, first some preparatory work with just Rian, Mona and me.
At four thirty, the O’Toole delegation arrived and initial discussions began.
There was a lot to go through – Rian was adamant we give them every option we have to offer.
With a laser-sharp focus, he guided the delegation through the different sections, ensuring we stayed on topic and didn’t digress.
The meeting finally ended close to two hours later.
Although nothing was signed, I would call it a success.
I volunteered to stay and write up the notes, letting a relieved Mona head home to start her weekend.
The surprise came when Rian said he’d stay behind too. Apparently because he couldn’t face listening to me complaining about having to do all the work on my own.
My initial nerves being alone with Rian have subsided – he’s been totally committed to the job ever since the others left. Maybe he’s eager to get everything finished so he can meet whoever is at the end of that phone call.
Since the incident – as I’ve started calling it – things have reverted to how they used to be.
We’re professional and fight like we always do.
I almost manage to convince myself that the incident never actually happened.
I just have to repress the way my tummy clenches every time I think about Rian’s large hands.
Rolling my shoulders, I know I should get back to the work.
While I rest my gaze on the dark canal below, there’s a movement in the reflection in the window. Rian is standing by the door, his navy tie loose around his neck. How long has he been there? Why is he staring at me? A few beats pass.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry.
My heart starts thumping faster as he calmly walks towards me. The air thickens with every slow step he takes until he’s right behind me. His presence is so strong, I can feel him even though he doesn’t touch me, our eyes locked in the window reflection. This is bad…
“Are you having a wee break?” His voice alone raises goosebumps on my flesh.
“I think I deserve it, don’t you?” I try to sass, but my words are weak.
“Hm… I guess.” He licks his bottom lip and cocks his head to the side as he gently pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. My skin sizzles where the tip of his finger traces down my neck.
No, no, no….
“Well, we should finish up,” I rush to say, but he stops me with a hand on my hip.
“You’ve been working hard, you deserve a break.”
“I’m sure you—”
He cuts me off, his hand on my hip flexing and his tone low and cajoling.
“Let it be known, Miss Taylor, as your boss, I need to foster good behaviour. When I see ill discipline and bad attitude, I will punish.” His Adam’s apple bobs and my insides clench at the memory of his punishment. “And good behaviour is…rewarded.”
There’s a tug of my jacket.
“I…” My breath hitches. I wet my lips while trying to form words that don’t come. The corner of Rian’s mouth lifts as he watches me struggle. I should step away, break this spell that he’s weaving.
There’s another tug. My jacket slides down my shoulders.
“Today, Miss Taylor…you’ve been very good.”
“Mr Kearney, I don’t think…”
“Let me give you your reward.”
The part of me that tries to revolt is too weak, barely a whisper at the back of my mind as my jacket ends up in a heap on the floor.
Heat sears from his palms where he places them on my hips.
Keeping my eyes locked with his, he pauses.
Waiting. Giving me time to object. I should.
I should object, do something. Scream — scream at the sinfully tempting devil looming behind me.
Or get out and leave. Simply leave! Caught in a spider’s web, I do none of these things as the air around us sizzles and desire builds in my core.
He reaches around to my front, the face of his Rolex glinting on his wrist above his strong hand.
My chest expands on a stuttered inhale as he slowly undoes my belt and my zipper.
Then the button, the only thing that had prevented my trousers from falling.
They now pool around my ankles on the floor.
My legs bare, shining pale in the window.
It’s like watching someone else - surely this wanton woman who allows her boss’ hands to move up over the shirt - she can’t me me!
Long fingers tackle one button at a time, so particular, so controlled, as if we do this every day.
As if this isn’t shocking and extreme behaviour.
Cool air caresses my skin as the shirt ends up on top of my jacket.
I’m in my underwear. Christ, I’m in my underwear in Rian Kearney’s office.
I feel utterly exposed – the white of my modest bra and panties bright beacon reflections.
And behind me, Rian, dark and menacing. Can people on the street see me?
I shiver, but not because I’m cold. I clench my thighs, and my fingertips dig into my skin to keep still.
He peels my fingers free, folding my arms on my back.
“Hold on to your elbows.”
I do. It makes my chest push out. Rian pulls his tie from around his neck. It’s soft against my skin as he drapes it around my arms, over and over. Rian’s breath is warm on my back as his focus is on what he’s doing behind me. There’s a tug. And then nothing. Yet Rian still stares down at my arms.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed about tying you up, Miss Taylor,” he rasps.
Nerve endings spark where he traces my skin next to his tie. I try to move my arms, but I can’t. Panic is pushing at my temples.
“I-I thought I was getting a reward?”
His gaze lifts, meeting mine in the window, so dark, his pupils blown. “Being tied up doesn’t have to be a punishment.”
My rapid breathing is our soundtrack as I watch Rian reach around me, his fingertips playing on the swells at the top of my bra, slowly moving under the fabric and cupping my breasts.
I try to hold back a stuttered moan. He pulls my breasts out over the top of the bra.
They’re naturally quite firm. However, with the support of the bra underneath and with my arms on my back, they’re jutting obscenely out and up, defying gravity.
“Being tied up can be quite freeing, don’t you think?” I’ve never heard his tone so deep, so velvety smooth and seductive. “Choice is taken from you, and you just have to…feel.”
“That’s a load of rubbish.” Again, I try to move my arms.
“Is it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and pinches my nipples so hard I gasp. “Let go, Miss Taylor…”
Lightning shoots from my nipples as he pinches them again.
He’s right, it is freeing to let him take control, take the responsibility for what happens next.
I sense my stance softening as I…let go.
The barely audible “good girl” whispered in my ear sends tingles down my spine, and I push my chest out further, chasing his touch and his next move.
I hiss as his nails scrape along the soft skin out to the rosy tips.
He does it again. And again. Red lines mark my breasts.
The sharp bite as he scrapes my erect nipples is bordering on painful, but that makes the sensation so much more than just a caress.
Pain and pleasure battle and capture all my senses. Heat swirls low in my stomach.
“No!” I call as his hands fall from my breasts to rest on my stomach.
Rian chuckles. “So needy.”
Mortified, I clamp my lips shut. But then his hands trail further down, so slowly I want to scream for him to hurry up.
All thoughts of what’s appropriate are gone, only lust is present.
I suck in a sharp breath as his fingers brush over my panties, making small circles, moving further and further down until they circle right over my cotton-covered clit.
Teasing, tingling. It’s not enough pressure.
“Please…” The plea tumbles past my lips.
“Please what?” Rian bites my earlobe, warm pants of breath burning down my neck. “Tell me what you want…”
Licking my lips, I try to find words. “Please…please stroke me…”
A deep sound rumbles from Rian’s chest. It strums something deep inside of me.
I close my eyes, but my lids snap back open when he grabs the sides of my underwear and drags them down my hips.
He leaves them at mid-thigh. I wish I was wearing something sexier, something black or red lace, not white cotton.
“Spread your legs,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Um…” I don’t know if that sound was supposed to be a half-hearted protest. It wouldn’t have mattered since I obediently shuffle my feet apart, my panties stretched between my thighs.
“Good girl.”
My cheeks turn pink in the window reflection and my chest expands. Good girl – good girl for spreading my legs and revealing my most sacred body part? Fuck, what am I doing?
What I’m doing is trying to shuffle my feet even wider where they’re tangled in my trousers on the floor. What I’m doing is tilting my pelvis so Rian can better see my raised mound with its landing strip of dark blonde hair, leading down to pink lips that are shamefully shiny.
I feel so naughty – a naughty good girl.
Jesus, my thoughts are so muddled. I should be mortified but everything in me is compelling me to be good for Rian.
Rian, who stands there behind me, dark-haired with his smouldering eyes, pure lust displayed on his face as his fingers make the trek down, down, down.
“Ah…” I tilt my head back, leaning against Rian’s hard chest, and gasp as he reaches my wet lips.
Electricity zaps from my sensitive folds as he presses his digits in between them, up and down before circling my clit. He does it again, and again, teasing me, playing with me.
“Do you like that?” he whispers, but I am unable to answer. “Do you like me touching your pussy like this?” He moves lower, and utterly slowly, he pushes one long finger into me. Just as slow, he moves it out and in again. “You are such a good girl, so wet for me.”
His words trigger pleasure points in my brain, turning me on even more.
I know I’m making noises but can’t tell if it is sweet moans or loud cries, as all I can sense is his touch.
The muscles on his arms flex as he holds me up on my trembling legs while playing with my pussy.
Gentle and controlled movements yet with so much power.
Too much power. Over and over he pushes his strong digit inside of me, circling my clit, bringing me higher and higher.
The sound of wetness. The heat at my back. His harsh breaths.
“Oh-my-God…”
I’m right on the edge, and he’s keeping me there. Blowing at the embers to keep them alive, but without turning to blaze. I tilt my pelvis further, chasing his fingers for a deeper touch. My arms pull at his tie to no avail. The helpless feeling only increases the pressure inside me.
“Please!” My breath hitches, close to a sob.
“Tell me what you want.” Rian’s chest heaves behind me, trapping my arms between us.
“Please make me come. Please!”
He pinches my clit and my legs buckle. Two long digits enter me roughly, deeply, curling, pumping. I writhe in his arms, my stomach clenching to the rhythm of his thrusting fingers and the pinching of my clit.
“Then come for me,” Rian demands and drags his teeth down my throat, down to my pulse point, biting. “Come all over my hand!”
And I do, panting, my face pressed to his neck. Light erupts behind my closed lids as heat blasts from my core. I vaguely hear Rian swear and groan as he holds me tight through the waves that wreck my body, one after the other.
Rian’s breathing is heavy as I slump in his arms. His cock, hard and intimidating, presses against my back. Anticipation grows. What will he do to me next? I watch his hands mirrored in the window as they move up from between my spread legs, leaving wet trails up my torso and…
…and adjust my bra into place.
He reaches down and pulls my panties up. The soaked material is cold against my swollen lips. Surely, he can’t keep himself hanging?
A gentle tug, and the tie releases my arms. But I don’t move them. Not until Rian peels my fingers from my elbows. In stunned silence, I watch him dress me, and then I stand there, exactly like I was when he walked into the room.
Although he’s given me the most amazing orgasm, I feel robbed, robbed of his pleasure. It doesn’t make sense – nothing makes sense, this whole scenario, what has just happened…
I catch his eyes in the window.
“Go home, Catriona,” he says quietly, his expression unreadable.
It is the first time he’s ever used my given name.
The first time, and he uses it to dismiss me.
A lump forms in my throat. On shaky legs, I step away from him, pick up my bag, and walk to the door.
I glance back. Rian is still in the same spot, his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped.
His eyes that meet mine in the window are dark.
I hesitate. Then I turn and leave him alone.