Ashlei
Spring Break.
It’s the Holy Grail of college, the one week every student looks forward to. For seven, blissful days, there are no exams, no homework, no fraternity or sorority events, and, though I haven’t decided if it’s a good thing or not yet — no internships.
So, it’s no surprise to me that at the end of my last day in the office before break, I get called into Mr. Church’s office.
I made sure I was the last one to leave again today, knowing it would be my last chance to see Brandon before I left.
I also made sure to wear a skirt that’s just a little too short, and a little too tight, and my hair up in a clip that I know he’s dying to unfasten so he can see my hair spill over my shoulders.
After our last weekend together, I’ve got him under my spell.
And he’s got me under his.
I tried to tell myself before that it was just our dynamite sex keeping us entwined, but after spending two days in his luxury downtown sky-rise condo, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
Brandon didn’t just fuck me and then kick me out the door.
No, he made me breakfast, and took me out on his boat, and rubbed my feet after a long night of dancing in the VIP section of one of his favorite clubs.
He drove me to pole practice Sunday evening, kissing me in the car where the tinted windows hid us before watching me leave, knowing we wouldn’t touch again for a while.
But this is what we signed up for, this cat and mouse game, this hiding in the shadows romance. For now, at least while I’m his intern, it’s the safest bet. Not that he would lose his career, but his reputation might suffer for a while if he were discovered. And me?
Well, I’d be fucked. As in, all up in the booty hole, no lube, kind of fucked.
That should be the loudest thought in my head as I walk quickly and purposefully across the office toward his door.
I should be thinking of someone catching us, of what would happen if we had to pull footage off these cameras for some reason, what I would do if everything I’ve worked for at Okay, Cool came crashing to the ground — all because of my sex life.
But I can’t.
All I can think about is his white dress shirt, top three buttons unfastened, sleeves rolled like they always are at the end of the day.
All I can see is his dark, wicked eyes watching me as I ride him in his office chair.
Slowly, step by step, the closer I get to his office, the more he overtakes every sense.
He’s poison dressed as a delicious apple, and I’m powerless to resist temptation.
I have to have a bite.
I smooth my skirt and brush my hair out of my face as I near his door, rapping my knuckles just twice on the frame when I reach it.
“Mr. Church?” I ask innocently, batting my lashes. “You wanted to see me?”
Brandon smirks, kicking back in his chair and letting his eyes roam me shamelessly.
“I did. Come in,” he commands, and that’s the way his voice always is — demanding, deep and powerful and impossible to disobey. “Have a seat.”
I do as he says, making a show of crossing my legs, one stiletto hanging between us as I fold my hands in my lap. Brandon eyes that heel, tracing the arch of it before his eyes flow all the way up my legs to my skirt.
They snap to my eyes next.
“I know you’ve been focused on Spring Break,” he says, “But it’s come to my attention that you’re past due on a very important task you were given.” Brandon pauses, his eyes growing dark. “You know I’m not a fan of missed deadlines.”
Immediately, I scan through everything I’d had on my to-do list for the week, knowing there was absolutely no way I left anything off. But as Brandon’s grin grows wider the more I pinch my brows together, I realize his accusation is part of the game.
He does love to play boss.
“Oh, my,” I breathe, feigning disappointment in myself. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Church. It’s just been such a busy week, I couldn’t get everything done. But I’ll make sure to handle it first thing on my return.”
Brandon rests his elbow on one arm rest, twirling a pen between his fingers as he watches me. “I’m afraid that won’t be enough, Ms. Daniels.”
Why does that work for me? Why does him using my last name, talking to me like I’m just the intern, and looking at me like a hot apple pie mix into the perfect concoction to get me wet?
When we’re alone, in his apartment or on the boat, the way he makes love to me is reverent.
It’s slow and romantic, calculated and pure, like a slow Sunday morning bang every single time.
But here? In his office? Or on his jet? He’s Mr. Church, and I’m Ms. Daniels — and we both know which one holds the power.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe again, biting my lower lip and leaning forward enough to show a hint of cleavage. I hold my eyes open wide, my head tilted down a little as I look up at him through my lashes. “Are you going to punish me, Mr. Church?”
When the word punish leaves my lips, Brandon’s eyelids flutter a bit, his nose flaring. And when I use his favorite name, the one that holds that power, he shakes his head, a lustrous gaze fixed hard on my mouth.
“I’m afraid I have no other choice.”
His hands shoot out, grabbing the armrests of my chair and tugging until my legs are between his. As soon as those hands move from the chair to my thighs, sliding up the sensitive skin to spread me open, I reach for the collar of his shirt and pull his mouth to mine.
We both exhale the moment our lips touch, Brandon’s hands still steadfast on their mission to reach my center. His pinky finger brushes the lace of my thong and I moan, bucking my hips, ready for more.
Always ready for so much more of him.
And he delivers, slipping one finger under the lace when I lift my hips again, a ragged please escaping my lips.
But before that finger can dip all the way inside me, before that void is filled, Brandon’s eyes widen at something behind me.
He yanks his hand back like he’s touched fire, his face ashen, and when I glance over my shoulder, I regretfully understand why.
“Well, well, well,” Kimberly says, tongue pressing into her cheek as she glares at us with a satisfied grin. I thought I hated seeing that spiky hair and messy lipstick every morning, but it’s nothing compared to the sinking stone I feel in my gut looking at her now.
Shit.
She crosses her arms over her chest, casually leaning a hip against the door frame. “I would say I’m surprised, but I called this from day one.”
“Ms. Marks, it’s after hours. You shouldn’t—”
“I shouldn’t what, Mr. Church?” she asks defiantly, chin raised high. “Please, I’m dying to hear you tell me what I shouldn’t be doing right now.”
At first, I swear I see Brandon shrink in size, his shoulders deflating a little like he’s ready to accept defeat. But I know this man, and I know he doesn’t react to someone trying to exert power over him well.
Unless it’s me. And I’m naked.
“You shouldn’t assume things,” he finishes, standing.
As soon as he does, the power shifts, like the wind switching directions mid-storm. He stands so tall, so straight, his eyes on Kimberly like she just interrupted a meeting instead of walked in on him with his hand up my skirt.
“It’s late, it’s been a long week, and it’s Spring Break.
You should go,” he says calmly, and I pull energy from him, straightening my shoulders and smiling at Kimberly like she has nothing on us, even though we both know we’re in deep shit.
“And consider the consequences of your actions, or your words, should you choose to utilize either.”
Kimberly swallows, her confident stance weakened for a split second before she shakes her head, that wry grin back in place. “Oh, I will. Trust me when I say I will.” She snaps her menacing gaze to me next. “Your days are numbered, slut.”
She turns on the heel of her suede pumps, and damn it if she doesn’t keep the cocky swing in her walk all the way to the front office doors.
When they close behind her, the relief I thought we’d find once she was gone isn’t there.
In fact, the air is thicker, coated with a hot, wet heat like the Florida humidity — sticky and heavy and uncomfortable.
I just close my eyes, finally letting out a long, weighted breath.
“I’ll fire her.”
Brandon speaks first, his words punctuated and sure.
“I’ll fire her immediately, have her manager call her tomorrow and tell her not to come back after Spring Break.”
“You can’t fire her,” I say with a sigh, kneading my temples.
“I can, and I will.”
“No.” My voice is louder, eyes hard when I tilt my chin up to find his gaze. “That’s a law suit waiting to happen, Brandon. There are cameras, and logs of our key access into the building. She’d have too much against us, and then you’d really put your career — your business — in jeopardy.”
He shakes his head, frown firm. “I don’t care. She can’t take me down.”
“She could, if you fire her,” I quickly correct. “But if you just wait and let me handle this—”
“I can’t wait,” he says incredulously, dropping back into his chair with a huff.
He reaches for my hands, pulling them into his own with his eyes locked on mine, brows bent.
“Don’t you understand what this means, Ashlei?
This could… this will ruin you. If she talks, if she tells anyone, you’re in danger.
Me?” He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Even if you left, even if I had to submit to a slew of rumors or whatever, this is my business.
I make the rules. Sleeping with the intern wouldn’t hurt me.
Hell, the guys would high five me, and the women would probably ask where the line is to be next. ”
The truth in his assessment stings like a slap to the face, and I swallow, nodding in agreement.
“That’s all true. You would be fine, but my name, my reputation would be damaged. I wouldn’t be able to stay here,” I say quickly. “And, if I left, I’d have to go somewhere far enough away that they don’t know about Okay, Cool… or what happened… is happening between us.”
“So, out of the southeastern United States,” he says gruffly, a curt shake of his head.
“No. Absolutely not. We have to do something. I can’t let this…
I can’t let her…” his voice fades, and he swallows hard.
For the first time since his speech in Atlanta, emotion strangles him — all because he can’t bear the thought of me being hurt.
Am I allowed to swoon right now? Because… SWOON.
“I know,” I say, squeezing his hands. “I know. But, I think I have a plan.”
“You do?”
I nod, the thought still forming in my head, like a caterpillar wrapping itself in a cocoon.
“But, you have to trust me,” I say, forcing him to meet my eyes again. “And you have to wait.”
“Wait,” he says, already shaking his head again. “We can’t wait. She could run out and tell someone tonight. She could be telling someone right now.”
“She could, but she won’t. Kimberly is smart,” I say, believing it more when I say it.
“And she’s calculated. She’s been waiting for this, to get something on me, to prove what she’s always suspected — and she’s not going to waste it as soon as she has it by just telling anyone who will listen.
No, she’s going to sit on it, and she’s going to come up with the perfect time to take me down. ”
“And when would that be?”
I swallow, almost smiling at the obviousness of my enemy. “The staff meeting on Monday. That’s when they’re announcing who the event coordinator is for the project we’ve been splitting. If it goes to me, which we both know it will, she’ll do it then.”
“Fuck!” Brandon runs his hands over his head, kicking back in his chair. “I hate this. I fucking hate this. I’m so, so sorry, Ashlei. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off.
Brandon swallows, his eyes searching mine.
“Don’t tell me you shouldn’t have touched me, or kissed me, or made me feel the way you have.
I’ve been happier in the past few months with you than I have the past few years before I knew you existed,” I admit, voice rough.
“And I’m not letting some girl set on taking down a fellow female co-worker because of her own insecurities ruin that. ”
For a moment he just watches me, his eyes softening as the left side of his mouth quirks up in a soft smile. He rolls closer to me, framing my cheeks in his hands and planting a long, sweet kiss on my lips.
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
He rests his forehead against mine as I smile, the heaviness gone if even for just a moment.
“Okay, I won’t fire her,” he concedes, as if that was still an option on the table. “What’s your plan?”
I don’t have the full answer to that question yet, but as it forms slowly in my mind, I see it playing out the way I want it to more and more clearly.
It will take patience, and courage, and the timing has to be perfect.
With one wrong move, or one mistake on my assumption of my opponent, everything I’ve worked for could go up in a dumpster fire.
“Simple,” I say, trying to convince myself of the same. “We beat her to the punch line.”