Chapter 23—Willow
Oh my God!
He can’t be serious. Can he?
“Bobby, stop.” I grip his wrist, but all it does is let me feel him move up higher on my thighs. He’s going slowly, not to give me a chance to stop him, but to drag out every blissful, tortuous second.
I should have known he would do something like this.
Well, not this. No way could I have expected this.
But after the email, I certainly expected something.
Honestly, I thought he would confront me after the day was over.
I don’t think I would have lost my job. At worst, I’d have been downgraded.
Maybe a request to get out of the apartment.
I don’t want to, but I’d been freaking out all week, second-guessing everything.
When he didn’t send me anything, not a single pigeon note or smoke signal in the sky, I thought I was being the mature one by canceling the meetings.
Going out on top, in a way, deciding in-person contact isn’t needed so we could both keep face without seeing each other.
Not that I wasn’t seeing it in my dreams. So many of them that I’ve taken to locking my door at night to keep the girls from coming in and seeing what I’m doing under the covers.
Something I never had to worry about in the past. Even before my marriage ended, sex was not something I had on my mind a lot.
It was pleasurable sometimes, usually if I finished myself off, but it wasn’t something I craved.
Yearned for. I sent silent pleas to the universe to answer my calls. All of which I’ve done this week.
And all for one man.
Bobby has ruined me. Completely destroyed me.
In the bedroom.
Outside of it, I’m able to think and function, but he’s constantly on my mind.
I didn’t want to, but I put up barriers all week in preparation.
Each day that went by without a word from him, I built them higher.
I promised myself once that I wouldn’t fall out over a man.
And even if Bobby is three times the man Trevor will ever be, I intend to stand by that promise.
“You don’t want me to,” he purrs as he finds the spot between my legs.
The spot that’s been aching all week to see him again.
His teeth graze my neck as he moves them over my pulse point.
A threat that he’ll bite. And all I can think about is how good it felt the last time he touched my neck.
How his hand closed so tightly, squeezing me.
Some might be sickened by that, but all I can do is let out a small moan from the memory.
The way I came so hard on the release makes up for the slight panic I first felt when he wrapped his fingers around me.
Hearing my moan makes me stiffen and try to get back to the point.
“You didn’t call.”
And there it is. The panic that’s been on my mind since Tuesday when he said he would call soon but never did.
I thought a dozen times about calling him first. Texting.
Emailing. Every time, I didn’t. I didn’t want to be the needy woman who didn’t know she was a one-night stand.
I didn’t want to be seen that way or show my girls that that’s how to act.
I tell them to act like the queens they are, and queens don’t beg for attention.
They earn it, or they don’t. You can still lead without it, but it’s not as satisfying when you do.
He stills but doesn’t remove his hand from my panties. Once he reached my center, he pushed in, just enough to feel the wetness seep onto his fingers. Now he’s just holding me, gripping between my legs as if it’s his right.
He looks at me, seeing far more than a man should see in a woman’s eyes. Especially one who’s on the brink of realizing her feelings are more than just a crush, and his actions made a part of her heart hurt.
But he sees it. He sees me. All of me. He has since the start of whatever this is between us.
“For that, I’m truly sorry.” He nods as he leans back, accepting his mistake, but not removing his hand.
“Each time I wanted to, something came up.” He shakes his head at his words. “But that’s a poor man’s excuse, and certainly not one you should accept. All I can say is I’m sorry and I’ll do better going forward.”
I blink twice. That’s not what I expected. A complete apology and a commitment to change?
“What are you?” I voice my inner thought without meaning to.
He speaks as if he honestly means it. As if they aren’t just words to stop an argument to get what he wants.
I’ve been around men my entire life, and I’ve never seen one really apologize before.
Not even my dad. It was always followed up with something tied to it that the other person had to take responsibility for. Bobby seems unreal in this moment.
He leans forward, resting his forehead on mine and closing his eyes. “Someone who must make amends.” The anguish in his voice mends a part of my heart. “Please let me. I’m not a begging man, but I am sorry that I hurt you.”
This man sees more than my ex-husband ever did. He can tell things just by looking at me, and instead of making me take the blame for my feelings, he’s acknowledging them and wanting to make changes.
How can I not accept his apology?
“It’s okay.” I lick my lips. “I could have said something instead of letting it brew this week. Guess we both need to apologize, huh?” I laugh a bit to ease the tension, as this moment seems bigger than just a dating couple’s spat.
It feels more like a promise for the future between us.
Something I’m not sure will occur, but something I also want to have.
He stands up fully and takes a beat before nodding. Then he removes his hands from between my legs and grabs his chair, sitting down right in front of me.
I feel better now that we’re on even ground and push my skirt down. I go to stand, only to be stopped by firm hands on my wrists, squeezing tightly, though not enough to leave bruises.
“What are you doing?” His eyes narrow on me.
“Um, getting up so we can have our meeting?” I phrase it as a question because I really don’t know if he expects to still have one or not. I assume so, but I’ve been mistaken about a lot this week, it seems.
“You said I could apologize.” He still doesn’t let go of my hands, which are bunched up in my skirt.
“Yes,” I draw out, more confused than before.
“Then. Don’t. Move.”
His words are clipped, but I don’t fear them. Not even when he pushes my hands behind me. Or when he lifts my skirt higher to expose my black lace panties to him.
“And try to stay quiet.”
He wheels his chair closer to the desk, and my legs inch farther apart on instinct more than anything.
His fingers lightly brush up and down one knee as he looks me over.
His eyes land on my breasts, pushing against the fabric of my blouse with the way I’m arched before him, as my hands are flat on the desk behind me.
His gaze stays there as his hand moves up the inside of my knee to my thigh. I squirm a bit at the feel, almost ticklish. Then he’s there, rubbing the backs of his fingers over my pussy, parting my folds through the thin underwear and making me tremble against him.
I whimper in protest. Not at his touch, but at how it’s only teasing and not what I need.
All week I’ve come on my fingers to the memory of him. He was relentless in the pleasure he both gave and sought for himself. It’s that man I want between my legs right now. Not the one holding back, trying to make this slow in a way to say sorry.
“Please.” I sound whiny and breathless all at once. I’m not loud enough for the others outside to hear me, but I’m conscious that they’re there. I might not hear them, letting me know this room has some kind of sound barrier, but I doubt it can withstand the screams this man brings out of me.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. My Wildflower.”
He growls in warning right before he bends his head down, using his other hand that isn’t touching my pussy to tilt my ass closer to him. He brings me to the edge of the desk and pulls my panties to the side a second before his tongue slides between my folds.
I cry out as softly as I can, but he doesn’t seem to care about the predicament I find myself in.
The one that has pleasure rippling through me.
That’s trying to come out in a scream that I refuse to release.
My arms go weak and I drop to my elbows with enough force that I know I’ll have a bruise, but it’s worth it.
My feet find purchase on the armrests of a very expensive leather chair that he’s using to help give him the best angle to eat me out with.
His tongue flutters up and down and sinks inside me every now and again. Nothing in a pattern that I can find. Then his teeth are scraping my clit, nipping on it and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers pump into me.
My hands flex and ball into fists as I try to fight the sudden need to come. I want this to last. I need it to. It’s been days, but it feels like months since I’ve had him. And his mouth? God, I didn’t think it could get better than having his cock inside me. But fuck.
Unable to hold back anymore, I lie back on the desk and use my hands to grab and pinch my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. My bra is thin, thank God, and I can feel the intensity of my fingers on my nipples more than a padded bra would ever allow.
He moans, sending a vibration straight to my clit that has me gasping for air.
I look down at him and see his eyes are on me.
Intense and set, driving this moment higher.
I continue to pinch both nipples until his hand comes up and takes my place.
He pulls the blouse just enough for a button to pop, giving him better access to actually touch my flesh, pushing one bra cup down along with the blouse to twist my nipple.
I barely have time to put my wrist into my mouth, biting down as I scream and come in his mouth.
It’s a quick release, but no less powerful than all the rest he’s given me.
I let my legs drop off the chair as he rolls it back, absently noting my eyes are closed as I let my hand fall away from my mouth as my other one lies flat on my breast. I must look wrecked, and I’m going to need a moment to collect myself before we actually start the meeting.
“Apology accepted,” I say around a light laugh and grin, instantly hating that naps aren’t allowed in the corporate world.
“Who said I was done?”
His words have my eyes snapping open, along with the sound of his belt buckle opening and his zipper rolling down.
“That was just for not calling you back on Tuesday. I need to make up for the rest of the week too.”
The predator before me is smiling, but it only kicks up my rapid heartbeat. He’s dangerous in this position, looking at me with so much want that I could fall into belief that I’m his every dream and dark desire in one.
My legs are still open, and he uses that to guide himself inside me with ease. His hands find the arch of my lower back, and he supports me as he slides in and out. Slower than a frenzy, but a consistent pace that keeps my breath hitching.
“Bobby,” I whisper around our bodies connecting and making music like the beating of a war drum. Persistent and determined.
“Say it again. Say my name and know who’s the one making you feel this. Who’s saying sorry with more than just pretty words. I might not get it all right, but fuck if I don’t want to try.”
He grunts as he speaks, and I feel him nearing his peak as my high comes rushing back. If he wants me to speak, I’ll say anything he asks. I’d give him the world if that was his desire. As long as he doesn’t stop. I’m already so close again to that pinnacle in the sky I reached just minutes before.
“Bobby. Please. Honey. Please.”
Not sure which of the three words sets him off, but he doubles his pace and finds my neck with one hand, grabbing it tight and cutting off my air.
I flutter around him, gripping his dick as I come hard.
The scream that leaves my mouth is strangled because there’s no breath in it.
Not until he releases me and comes on his own, triggering another one from me.
“You’re mine.”
This time, when I float in the haze, it’s not with my back to the desk. Bobby lifts me into his arms and brings me with him as he sits back in his chair, cradling me to his body as we remain connected in the most intimate of ways.
“That’s one hell of an apology,” I say while trying to catch my breath. Seems to take longer, as I’ve never come so many times back-to-back. Even on Monday with Bobby, we had small reprieves. Few, but enough that I could talk without sounding like I’d just sprinted up a hill.
He chuckles, shaking me a bit as I rest my head on his shoulder. “I needed to make sure you’d accept it and not think about sending me another cancellation email in the future.”
“If this is what I get for a canceled meeting, you can bet I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”
He laughs as he runs his hands over my entire body, massaging limbs in his wake as he goes in a random pattern.
“How are the girls?”
I know we just had sex. Earth-shattering sex. The kind you write sonnets about. But that he’s asking after my girls means more than anything else he’s said since I got here.
“They miss you.”
And it’s the truth. Each day they ask about him. They consider him and Marco friends, and they long to see them.
“I miss them too. Think I could convince you all to let me in on your spa night tonight? I know it’s a family tradition, but I promise not to poke fun at the silly romance movies you watch.”
I smile at the thought. Having him there wouldn’t ruin anything, and that alone should tell me more than anything about how I’m seeing Bobby. Not as just a passing in the night but someone more permanent.
“I might be able to convince the girls. But just know that everyone gets their toes painted. It’s a must.”
I say it as a joke. Not expecting him to get it done, just trying to poke fun at the matter.
“I prefer blues and greens to pinks.”
He says it so easily that I giggle into his arms and stay there for far longer than the meeting warranted. But who cares? He’s the boss, after all. If someone has a problem with it, they can take it up with him.
Not that they will. Who’s going to argue with or make requests of the man paying your salary? They’d have to be crazy.
Or just maybe falling in love with him.