Chapter 6
It had been three days since the infamous photoshoot where I’d managed to get off twice with a house full of people close enough to catch us. The images of me trying desperately to control myself through an orgasm were not the images the publication had chosen to run with. Thank fuck for that.
The quiet torture Sinclair had inflicted on me was playing on my mind like amateur erotica as I stood outside his office in Manhattan Beach.
Three hours ago, Byron had summoned me into his office and handed me a folder, telling me I needed to go to Sin’s office and get him to sign the papers inside it as a matter of urgency.
I don’t know what was keeping his small army of assistants so busy that he’d commanded me to run this particular errand, but I’d do it.
I wanted to see Sinclair’s office. And the powerful man in it.
Byron had tossed a titanium Amex with my name on it on his desk between us and told me to keep it “for my help on this matter”. I’d paused, staring down at it. If he thought I could be bought that easily, he was delusional, but I’d swiped the card and the folder from the desk and made my way here.
I strode inside Sinclair’s building, expecting to have to plead my case with security in order to get them to allow me upstairs, but instead the balding man behind the desk handed me a pass the moment I said my name, and waved me through.
Riding the elevator up to the twentieth floor, I strolled to Sinclair’s corner office, stopping at his executive assistant’s desk.
His blonde assistant.
Blonde with blue eyes.
Who was really freaking hot.
What in the clichéd hell was this?
Doing my best to temper the sudden intense jealousy burning inside me over the beauty queen managing his desk, I cleared my throat. “Hi, I’m Dempsey. Is Sinclair available?”
She glanced up at me, a flash of surprise over her features, but she masked it quickly.
“Mr. Aston is currently unavailable, Dempsey. But if you take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here once he’s finished with his current phone meeting.”
Her gaze dropped down to assess me, the fake smile on her face so well-practiced that it was almost difficult to tell that it wasn’t genuine.
She was good. Really good.
But one thing was abundantly clear to me based purely on her reaction to me.
She was into Sinclair.
I didn’t need to see her interact with him to know that it was true.
She was protective of him in a way that implied some kind of ownership, and the thought that maybe they’d slept together hit me like a punch to the stomach.
My jealousy spiralled; she was gorgeous, wanted to sleep with him, and spent at least ten hours a day assisting him.
“Right, no problem,” I forced out, moving towards the low-back leather chairs overlooking the ocean to quietly stew in my own misery.
Coming to visit Sin at work didn’t seem so appealing now.
I’d made it three steps to the chairs when Sinclair’s office door was hauled open.
“Riley, with the exception of my father, I’m always available for my family. I’ve told you this,” came Sinclair’s low voice. “Dempsey is never to be kept waiting.”
Riley feigned contrition, but the way she dropped her gaze with her hands in her lap appeared more like a submissive in front of her preferred dom than an assistant accepting a reprimand from her boss. My eyes narrowed on the back of her head.
What in the fifty fucking shades was happening in this office?
While I trusted Sin, I knew all too well about his dominant tendencies in the bedroom. He’d restrained me the second time we’d had sex. But how did Riley know about those particular tastes? All kinds of scenarios ran through my head, each of them more terrible than the last.
“Yes, Mr. Aston. I apologize for my error.”
Sinclair ignored her, his gaze locking with mine. My heart swelled in my chest at the sight of him in his perfectly knotted tie and crisp white business shirt.
“Come in, Dempsey.”
The hard command in his voice sent a jolt straight to my core, and I obeyed, striding through the door, which he shut and locked behind me.
His office was huge, which was no big surprise, given how successful he was, owning and running multiple companies. His large imposing desk sat over to the right, a lounge area and pool table to the left, and two doors that I assumed went off to a bathroom and I had no idea what else.
The floor to ceiling windows on two sides offered an impressive view of the twinkling ocean.
I dropped the folder my stepfather had given me on his desk. “Byron needs you to sign these. I don’t know why he couldn’t send them via courier.”
Sinclair rounded the desk, flipping the folder open and thumbing through the pages. “Because he didn’t trust a courier with them.”
“He also gave me this.” I drop the titanium Amex on the desk between us. “I don’t want it.”
It wasn’t as though I was rolling in cash and didn’t need it. I didn’t have a dollar to my name thanks to my mother and father. But I knew well enough by now to understand that anything Byron gave me came with an entire marionette show worth of strings attached to it.
“I’m surprised it took him this long,” Sinclair said, opening a drawer in his desk and handing me a black card.
I took it, turning yet another titanium Amex over in my hand, the metal cool against my skin.
Only instead of Miss Dempsey Falconer on it, this one said Ms. Dempsey Aston.
I brushed my thumb over the name, not hating the sight of it. I pocketed the card.
“Thank you,” I said to Sinclair, pressing both hands to the edge of the desk and leaning forward so he got a straight shot down my shirt. “It’s a very generous gift.”
Sinclair sat down in his chair on the opposite side of the desk, legs spread wide. “I can think of at least three ways you can show me just how grateful you are, Princess.”
I smiled, tongue running over my lips. “Your hot assistant doesn’t take care of those needs for you during your work day?”
I was being needy and petulant and jealous.
But I couldn’t help it. Sinclair had a thriving sexual appetite, yet we spent the least amount of time together given I was at CCU all week with Dacre and Pres and he was here.
And now that I’d discovered that he had a woman who looked like she was runner-up at Miss World working his desk, it didn’t exactly put me at ease.
I was obligated to make sure she wasn’t working him too, and that he remembered exactly who he belonged to.
“My assistant,” he said, gaze trained on me. “Was hired for her MBA and nothing more.”
I shrugged, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. His gaze dropped to where my fingers were revealing my white lingerie beneath it.
“I don’t like coming to your office and seeing a beautiful blonde here to cater to your every need.” I slid my shirt off my shoulders, letting it hit the floor. “There are some of your needs that only I’m allowed to cater to.”
Sinclair shifted in his seat. The move was minuscule, but it was enough to show I was affecting him beneath his typically unreadable facade. “And I don’t like you coming to my office and accusing me of wanting to fuck anyone but you, Princess.”
I nodded, taking the zipper on the back of my skirt between my fingers and sliding it down. “You’re right. It wasn’t very nice of me to accuse you of forgetting just how good you have it at home. Though maybe you do need a reminder.”
I let my skirt drop to the floor and stepped out of it, leaving me in nothing but my lace white lingerie set and black heels.
Sinclair’s grip on the arms of his chair tightened and a sizable bulge was now evident in his pants. “Come over here and I’ll tell you all the ways you can make your insane accusations up to me.”
I bit my lip and took a step, but he shook his head.
“I want you to crawl to me, Dempsey.”
His tone, the way he said my name, the heat in his eyes—all of it set my blood alight.
If it were anyone else demanding I crawl, I’d tell them to go to hell, but I so desperately wanted to please him. To turn him on in every way. So if he wanted me to crawl to him across his office floor in nothing but my lingerie and heels, I’d do it.
I dropped to the floor, moving slowly around his desk until I was on my knees in front of him, my hands in my lap.
He let out a sound that was half exhale, half groan, and I wanted to hear it again so badly that I dropped my eyes to the floor.
If submissive was what he wanted, that was what I’d give him. If he wanted to dominate me six ways until Sunday, I was willing to let him, so long as it meant that it was me he was groaning against. And me that his mouth was all over. And me he was buried deep inside as he finally let go.
He’d never expressly said that a dominant-submissive relationship was what he wanted, and I had no idea how far I could stand to take it before I hated it.
But I so desperately wanted to give him even a taste of what he wanted.
So I’d kneel before him in his office, patiently waiting for an order on how to please him.
“Fuck, I don’t think you’ve ever been this quiet or obedient.” He stroked a finger down my cheek, but I didn’t raise my eyes to him. His finger trailed over my throat to my shoulder, where he slid it under my bra strap and let it fall from my shoulder.
“How do you want to make this up to me, Princess?”
His finger trailed to my other bra strap, sliding it from my shoulder.
I swallowed. “However you want me to make it up to you…” I hesitated, but only for a second. “Sir.”
He groaned quietly.
“Jesus, Dempsey, fuck. Take my cock out.”
He shifted back in his seat, legs spread wide, and watched me reach for his belt. I unzipped his pants, slipping a hand inside to free him. He was hard as steel, and I pumped him a few times in my hand, my palm trailing over his Jacob’s ladder piercing.
His fingers closed over mine, stilling me, but I didn’t dare look up at him.