Chapter 18 #2
It’s my assistant, Marjorie, a woman in her forties who my father hired a few years ago. She opens the door, then stands to the side to usher Olivia inside. She gives me a bright smile when she sees me, then holds up a bundle of takeout boxes.
“Your fiancé is here to see you, Mr. Eastwood,” Marjorie says primly. When Olivia steps inside, she closes the door behind her, shooting me a brief wink and a smile.
Olivia beams at me, holding up the takeout. I catch a whiff of fried food. “Hi.”
“Olivia?”
“I brought you Chinese food,” she says. “Hope that sounds good to you.”
I blink, taken aback. I never asked her to bring me lunch; I only said I wouldn’t be able to take a break for it.
I’m not used to being taken care of like this.
Usually, I’d either skip lunch or, if I was really hungry, order in myself.
I don’t even ask Marjorie to take care of these kinds of basic things for me.
But it’s pleasant, the idea that she thought of me. It makes me feel warm.
“Yeah,” I say, reaching for the bags. “That’s great.”
“Let me know if I screwed up your order. I was mostly guessing.”
I pull boxes out of the plastic bags one by one. It looks like Olivia got kung pao chicken, lo mein, egg rolls… there’s enough food here to feed an entire boardroom full of people.
I give Olivia a sideways glance. “Are you sure you meant to order four entrees?”
“Well, I couldn’t decide,” she sighs. “And I wanted to make sure I got what you wanted, so I just…”
“Asked for the entire menu?”
She shrugs, smiling. “Only part of it.”
“Thank you,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Seriously. I was not going to make it through this workday without some hot food.”
“Glad I could help.” She taps the surface of the table, then turns back toward the door. “Let me know when you’re—”
“Hey, wait,” I protest. “You’re leaving?”
She pauses, halfway across my office, and looks over her shoulder. “Well… yeah. I was just going to bring you some food and then head back to the penthouse.”
“But you brought me enough food for five people.” I gesture to the leather chair beside my desk. “Come on. You came all the way here. You might as well join me for lunch.”
She hesitates for only a second before returning to my desk, grinning. “Only if I can snag a few of those egg rolls.”
“Please, by all means.”
The two of us sit at the corner of my desk, talking and laughing as we eat. She quickly lays claim to the egg rolls, though she agrees to give me a couple of them in exchange for a few bites of lo mein.
“You almost got me in trouble in a board meeting today,” I tell her.
She scoffs, swallowing her bite of noodles. “How can I get you in trouble? I was at home.”
“You were texting me.”
“Not my problem,” she says, a teasing glint in her eye. “Just put your phone on silent and ignore me next time.”
“Well, you were being hard to ignore.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Without pausing, she gestures around at my office and says, “So, this is where the magic happens, huh?”
“If by magic, you mean finalizing sales reports, checking emails and meeting with clients, then… yeah. I guess so.”
Her gaze sweeps around the room, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls and the sitting area on the other side of the office, with its little coffee table and armchairs. “It’s one hell of an office.”
“It’s just a workplace,” I say, bemused. “It’s nothing special.”
“Are you kidding? It’s huge, and you’ve got art on the walls. Hell—there’s a tree in here. That’s fancy.” She points to the corner with her chopsticks, where interior design placed a tasteful potted ficus.
I huff a laugh and take another bite of my lunch. As I eat, I try to look at this place through her eyes. I guess it is impressive. The artwork in this building was curated by the same design team that works on Eastwood hotel lobbies, and it’s all designed to be pleasing to the eye.
Figures. This place is all about optics.
The memory of my meeting with my father, an unwanted shadow on an otherwise pleasant lunch, flits through my mind. Hesitantly, I say, “By the way, speaking of fancy things…”
She grimaces. “Oh, no.”
“My father wants you to come to dinner with the family this week. So that he can, uh, get to know you a little better.”
“Is that all?” Olivia’s expression clears. “That’s fine. I can handle a family dinner.”
“Of course,” I say. I don’t want to tell her any of the specifics from my conversation with my father. I’m worried that she’ll become self-conscious, or nervous, and I’d rather keep this whole affair as casual as possible.
As Olivia and I are finishing up our lunch, she glances over at the door, a gleam in her eye. At that look on her face, my heartbeat picks up again, just as it did in the meeting earlier.
“I’ve got to ask,” she says with a mischievous grin, “does our friends-with-benefits situation only apply at your place, or does it work here, too?”
I feel my cock twitch, already as hard as it was during the meeting. “It applies here, too.”
Olivia’s lashes flutter as her teeth sink into her plush bottom lip, and there’s something about the way she’s looking at me right now that makes my chest go tight and my cock throb against the front of my pants.
No woman has ever affected me the way she does.
I’m already half wrecked just watching her think about whatever she’s planning to do.
Her eyes flick toward the closed office door, and another smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Then she slips out of her chair, dropping to her hands and knees before crawling under my desk with a sway of her hips that has my pulse climbing into my throat.
I roll my chair back a little to make room for her as she settles herself between my legs, and the sight of her down there in the shadow of the desk, looking up at me, makes me grip the armrests hard enough that the leather creaks.
Her hand finds the hard outline of my cock through my pants, and she traces along the shape of it with her fingertips lightly, watching my face as I struggle to stay composed.
I let out a low groan and shift in my seat, the friction of her hand through the fabric somehow worse than no contact at all.
She’s barely touching me, and I’m already aching.
“You’re teasing me, baby,” I rasp. “You’d better be careful.”
“Who’s teasing?”
She bats her lashes up at me with an innocent expression that doesn’t fool either of us, and the urge to drag her up onto the desk and bury myself in her right here and now is almost more than I can stand.
Her fingers find my belt, and she works the buckle open slowly, letting the leather slide free with a soft hiss.
Then she moves on to the button at my waistband, popping it open before sliding my sipper down.
She’s taking her time, drawing it out, and I can feel my heartbeat in my cock by the time she finally reaches into my boxers and frees me.
The relief of feeling her delicate hand wrapped around my length is so sharp that I groan low in my throat, and my jaw clenches as she tightens her grip a little.
“Goddamn,” I manage to choke out. “You gonna suck me off under my desk? You’re such a dirty girl, Olivia.”
“I wasn’t,” she replies, looking up at me through her lashes. “Until you offered to distract me after a bad day. I think you unlocked something inside me that night. I like it.”
“Fuck, I do too.”
That draws a quiet, musical laugh out of her. She holds my gaze as she leans in, and the first slow drag of her tongue up the length of my shaft makes my head drop back against the chair. The wet heat of her tongue is fucking unreal.
She does it again, slower this time, her eyes never leaving mine, and I can feel the wet trail she’s leaving cool slightly in the air-conditioned air of the office.
I have to fight every primal instinct in myself not to palm the back of her head and pull her down until those sweet lips envelop my cock.
But she’s in charge here, and I’m more than happy to let her take control.
As if she can sense the power she has over me, Olivia pauses with her lips just brushing my crown, her warm breath gusting over me, and the look on her face is sexy and vulnerable all at once.
“You’ve made me come harder than I ever have in my life,” she whispers. “Did you know that?”
The rush of masculine, possessive satisfaction that swells in my chest has my cock pulsing against her palm.
“Christ, Olivia.”
“I want to return the favor.” Her tongue flicks against me, light and quick. “I want to feel you all the way in the back of my throat.”
Before I can respond, she dips her head and spits onto the head of my cock.
The slick of it runs down my length, and I watch through hooded eyes as she wraps her hand around my shaft and works it down, spreading it over every inch of me.
The sight of her doing that, the soft glide of her slick hand, the deliberate filth of it, almost finishes me before she’s even started.
“Baby,” I breathe, “you’re going to kill me.”
She grins at me, and fucking hell, I love this side of her. Then she lowers her head, closing her warm mouth around the head of my cock, and a guttural sound rumbles in my chest. I have to bite my cheek to keep from making a much louder noise that would definitely carry through the door.
My cock is already slick with her saliva, allowing her to glide down evenly as she hollows her cheeks a little.
Her hand is still working the base of my shaft in tandem with her mouth as she starts to bob her head, her tongue flat against the underside, the wet pressure of her lips dragging up and down in a way that drives me fucking crazy.
I drop one hand into her hair, sliding my fingers through it and gathering it loosely into my fist so I can see her face better.
“That’s it, baby.” I hum my approval. “Just like that. Holy fuck, look at you taking me so well.”