12. Oliver
Oliver
Ilook down at Lissa, lying on the chaise, her lips pink and plump as she catches her breath. I wanted her mouth on my cock more than anything, but I prefer to take my time with someone new.
So far, she has exceeded my expectations. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t have high hopes yesterday. I thought she was too timid, and my preferences would frighten her.
But she’s exquisite.
Sterling House has finally given me what I wanted. The high of the sex is still thrumming through my system as I straighten my clothing, making sure I look decent. I’ll be here for a good bit longer tonight, and I can’t afford to look disheveled around my team.
I lift my leg gently over the chaise and hold out my hand to her, helping her into a sitting position.
“There’s a bathroom back there,” I say, nodding toward the bookcase in the corner of the room, which doubles as a doorway to my ensuite.
Lissa raises her eyebrows. “Where?” she asks, and I give a half smile. I do so love showing off my toys.
I walk to the back of the room and push the edge of the shelf where the mechanism sits. The door makes a little hiss, and then the whole bookcase swings open, and Lissa’s eyes go wide before she gives a delighted little laugh.
I can’t help staring at her. She has such a beautiful face, but when she laughs, it transforms completely. I suddenly realize how sad she looked before.
“That’s so cool!” she says, standing up, but then her smile drops, and her arms move compulsively to her body, covering herself up.
Without a word, she makes her way quickly to her clothes and begins to pull them on in sharp jerky movements. I don’t speak, fighting the urge to tell her to clean up first. She knows what she wants; she’s a grown woman, but I don’t like the look of shame that passed over her face.
How can she not realize how perfect she is?
Once her bra and skirt are on, her shoulders lower several inches as she tugs on her shirt, keeping it unbuttoned with the mess still all over her chest. She looks up at me, her eyes darting to my office door.
“It’s okay, I don’t want to mess up your bathroom,” she says, shaking her head. “I can?—"
“Lissa.” She looks up. “I’d like you to use it. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t.”
Her hands lower from the buttons she is hastily fastening, mouth twitching.
“Uh…”
“You don’t have to, but it’s there if you need it.”
I go and sit down at my desk, deliberately not looking at her so she doesn’t feel under pressure. She’s a total puzzle to me. She’s nothing like the escorts I’ve been with before and I can’t figure her out.
She moves so quietly that it surprises me every time. Even with high-heeled shoes on, she floats about the office as if she were a shadow.
My lips quirk with pleasure as I see her go into the bathroom in my periphery.
She’s inside for no more than five minutes, but I hear the water running, and when I lean around to see what she’s doing, I can see her tying her hair back up in a ponytail.
It’s a rich, deep brown and glimmers in the lights, like dark satin.
After a few more seconds, she emerges, and if I hadn’t known she had just come apart for me, I wouldn’t have been able to tell.
She hovers, appearing uncertain, and I check the time.
It’s only thirty minutes or so since she came in.
Maybe I should have taken my time with her and drawn things out.
But I can’t afford to invest too much time in her.
I still don’t know if this is going to work long term, and I’d rather keep things short and sweet.
Either way, I’m paying her handsomely. That was the hottest thing I’ve done in a very long while.
“Thank you, Lissa, you can head home whenever you’re ready.”
She gives a little nod and walks noiselessly across the room, collects her jacket, and leaves.
Once the door closes, I rise and walk over to the chaise. It’s made by a company that specializes in sex furniture, but I’ve never used it before. The restraints make my cock twitch as I imagine tying Lissa up and ramming my cock into that tight, perfect pussy.
Am I really considering penetrative sex so soon?
Apparently, I am. Full sex isn’t something I usually indulge in, but with Lissa, I would absolutely make an exception.
A bolt of anxiety passes through my body as I consider what happened the last time I tried to go ‘all the way’ with a woman.
She had been willing and very accommodating, but when I told her I wouldn’t remove my shirt, she looked at me like I had grown a second head. Her confusion and obvious disdain had been an instant turn-off, and I’d sent her away.
The idea of getting naked in front of a woman, and the inevitable questions about the scars all over my back, makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Shaking off the feeling, I bend down, pick up the used toy, and take it to the bathroom. I clean it thoroughly and place it back on the shelf.
I organize the rest of the office, moving a chair a few inches back to the correct position, and place a thin cover over the pleasure chaise. It might look innocent, but I don’t want my boss to see the restraints and ask questions.
Heading back to my desk, I sit down, opening my banking app and transferring ten grand to Lissa’s account. It’s more than double the going rate, but I couldn’t care less. I have more money than I know what to do with, and I have a feeling it’ll mean a lot more to her than it does to me.
Closing down the app, I scroll to my contacts and call Pippa Grooman, confirming that I will keep Lissa on for at least another two weeks. By then, I should have a good idea of whether this will work.
The second I put the phone down, my office door opens, and excitement buzzes through me as I wonder if Lissa has come back. But instead, my jaw clenches when Thomas Burton, the managing partner, strolls in.
I make a mental note to triple-check that I lock the door when I’m with Lissa tomorrow.
Apparently, when you’re a managing partner, you can just wander into anyone’s office without knocking.
“Hello, Tom,” I say evenly, watching him swagger inside with his usual arrogance.
At thirty-eight, I’m one of the youngest partners in the firm, and he treats me as such.
They all do. As if I’m some rookie who doesn’t know what I’m doing, despite having brought in two of the biggest clients this firm has on its books.
“Oliver,” he says, his eyes moving all about the room, lingering on the sculpture with a little frown. I’m not concerned. He isn’t looking at it because he thinks it’s a sex toy; he’s examining it to see if it’s worth anything.
Thomas Burton has a painting behind his desk worth two million dollars, and he’s one of the biggest art snobs I’ve ever met. It gives me a little thrill to think of all the dildos hiding in plain sight on the shelves around my office. He’s probably stupid enough to think they’re worth something.
“Working late?” he asks.
“Yes. What can I do for you?” I don’t get up as he rocks onto the balls of his feet, putting his hands in his pockets.
“I had a call from Carmen Reynolds this morning,” he says, with a tone I know well. There’s more work coming my way, as if I don’t have enough to do.
“Richard Reynolds’ wife?”
“That’s the one. Only she’s not his wife anymore. He’s met a younger model, and she’s filed for divorce.”
“Okay.” I don’t say any more, his eyes glinting at me.
“She asked for the best divorce lawyer I have, Oliver. And I recommended you for the job.”
I clench my fists below the desk. This is fucking typical. Warren Sutcliffe, the other partner on my team, is far less busy than I am and would have the capacity to take on a case this size.
But Warren has a wife and kids at home, unlike me, and it’s becoming increasingly common for these massive projects to land on my desk instead of his.
The senior team acts as if this is a big favor, as if they’re helping my career, but I know it’s because Warren plays golf with Tom every Saturday and they’re buddies.
“I see. I’m in the midst of the Clarendon settlement at the moment,” I attempt, “it’s taking up a great deal of my time.”
“I understand that,” he says smoothly. “But it’s mainly wrapped up now, right?
Transfer the final negotiations to Lewis, and I’ll get Carmen’s files sent over to you.
She’s a lucrative client, and this will impress the other equity partners.
It could help secure your position in the future, especially if you impress her. ”
Damn it, Tom knows me too well.
I’ve wanted to become an equity partner since I joined the firm.
It’s part of the reason I rose through the ranks so fast, working every hour I could to get in with the right people.
If I can pull this off and make EP I’d be one of the youngest in the city.
Most people don’t make that step until they’re in their fifties.
Will this Reynolds case push me over the top?
I’ve never been Tom’s favorite, and most of the board doesn’t seem to like me much, but I bring in millions for the firm every year.
Tom shifts his weight as I remain silent for a little too long. He needs me to agree, and I enjoy making him squirm for a bit.
“Alright,” I say eventually. “But Lewis will have a lot of work to finish off. Does he have capacity?”
“He’ll make time,” Tom says unconcerned, and I chew on the corner of my mouth to hide my irritation. Tom has no idea what Lewis is working on and doesn’t care.
“Send over everything Reynolds sent us, and I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” I say.
“Thanks, Oliver,” Tom says, already moving on from the issue.
I won’t see him again until Carmen Reynolds’ money is firmly in his pocket.
“How’s your mother?” he asks as I look up. He knows I’m single, and even though he asks after my mom every time he sees me, it always feels perfunctory.
How’s the only family you have? Still alive?
“She’s good, how’re Megan and the kids?”
“Oh, the rugrats are good. Julia just turned ten.”
“Time flies.”
“It sure does. Don’t stay too late,” he says with a little smirk as he turns away, walking swiftly out and managing to slam the door behind him.
I stare at the ceiling, considering what I just agreed to.
Carmen Reynolds is one-half of a large luxury goods business.
Her husband, Richard, is a billionaire, having spawned hundreds of franchises from his business model, and both of them have shared in the profits.
I always thought their marriage was pretty solid, but then, all marriages look solid in the media. Until they don’t…
I have an uneasy feeling this is going to be a nightmare.
Leaning forward, I open an email to Lewis, the poor schmuck who’s going to be cleaning up the Clarendon case, and send him as much detail as I can before I log off for the night.
As I turn off the lights and power down my computer, my eyes linger on the chaise at the other end of the room. I fantasize about stripping Lissa naked and just having her lounge on it all day, touching herself, letting me fuck her, tying her up, and making her beg for my cock.
Blowing out a long breath, I adjust myself, snap off the lights, and head home.