His sheets are of an expensive material slightly rough against my skin. I enjoy the friction, relishing in the feeling of it. They cover him from the waist down, and I pull them up a bit higher around me to warm my cold shoulders. Being the boss of a company like Dauntless one would think that he lives in a villa in some secluded area in the city where you need a pass code to enter and millions on your account to even be recognized as a potential neighbor, with private kindergarten and schools for the future elite. But he doesn't. He lives in a small neighborhood where everything seems to be green and fresh – at least it would be if it would be summer, I think.
His home is cozy but modern and I like the way he seems to prefer earthy colors, brown and greens, but also includes blues and grays. I think if I ever wanted to picture my house I want to grow old in it wouldn't look unlike his living arrangements. And I know now it would be with him. I sigh softly, my hand going to his back, fingertips dancing across his warm skin to his spine and broad shoulders. I don't know why exactly but watching him makes me sad. Maybe it is the suppressed question and the unknown future.
Though my body feels like it will give out on me if I don't rest, I stay awake the whole night watching my boss sleep next to my naked form. His arm is thrown over my midsection, possessively holding me down against his mattress just where I ended up after our last sexual encounter in the shower. He lays on his stomach, face turned in my direction as if he wants to make sure I will not go, that I am still there when he wakes up. I think its wishful thinking on my part and its just his preferred sleeping position.
If he is aware of my feelings for him – and I suspect he is – then he should know by now, that I won't go, at least not as long as he wants me to stay. I cringe mentally. I think its a sign of weakness to love someone the way I do him. It gives him enough ammunition to destroy me and maybe that devotion to him is a big bold sign telling me that I don't care enough for myself because I risk so much letting him have his way with me. But I also know fighting these feelings is pointless. I tried it right from the beginning only to find out that they won't go away. I accepted them as this bitter-sweet ache in my chest.
I bite my lip, turning to my side to avoid having a cramped neck in the morning and his arm tightens around me, pulling my small body further to his side, his warmth engulfing me. I smile slightly at his unconscious action, enjoy his closeness and the smell of him and his aftershave lingering in the covers around me. Maybe the risk is worth it, I think, when he holds me like this.
I take a look at the clock on the nightstand and its already 5:30 in the morning. His flight goes at 10 am. Sure I won't sleep and making up my mind, I carefully stand up, my body sore, my muscles slightly protesting and I feel my cheeks coloring. I guess its quite normal to feel this way after nearly three years without any sexual activities – at least not with another person – and he didn't give me a real pause since I entered his office to deliver nothing more then folders he needs for a meeting. A shiver runs down my spine at the fresh memories invading my head for a moment.
The last day and late night feel like a dream, like I am just a bystander to events unknown in their impact on the future but with an atmosphere to them that promises huge changes. I frown slightly because what sort of changes I don't know. Maybe when the first heat is over and he had his way with me we go back to our usual selves, working next to each other but not with each other really. I am afraid if that is the case, that he teased me, made me experience sexual highs I wasn't even aware existed to just go away afterwards. I don't want to imagine what it will feel like, the pain I feel sharp enough already. And somehow I know I won't be able to go back to be his secretary and nothing more. Something about this realization calms me and I take a last look at his sleeping form, a small frown present on his face, maybe for my sudden absence.
My bare feet on the soft carpet lead me to a chair. I grab his dark-blue shirt from yesterday, holding it to my nose to smell him and his aftershave in the fabric before pulling it on, closing the buttons. After silently leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind me, I start to make my way down the corridor, passing two open doors leading to empty rooms. Though cozy and not as big as I imagined it would be, his home feels empty suddenly when I start to understand that all of this is just housing him. No significant other. No roommate. If he feels lonely sometimes? The thought never crossed my mind before – at least not like this.
I was aware right from the beginning that he is a private man and chooses consciously what he wants to show of himself to different people. My perception was verified at one company festivity for the Christmas holidays last year. The guys from the financial unit bought him a pillow you could connect to a mp3-player and it would play music right into your ear to help you find sleep easier. They even added a small joke card that said 'if you sleep more, we are sure to get a raise. And your girl will be happy, too'. He smirked, thanked them for they thoughtfulness and promised them to think about the mentioned raise next year.
And I silently scoffed, sipping my orange juice to hide it. He just told me a week before the company party that he hates unnatural sounds like music or a turned on TV when he tries to sleep and that his neighbor kept him up all night celebrating his 50th birthday when I asked him if everything was alright after I noticed his sour expression and dark circles under his eyes. And he wasn't involved with anyone back then, too because when I asked him to give me the name of his girlfriend I should address the flowers to I just ordered he raised an eyebrow and answered 'What girlfriend? They are for my grandmother.'. Later on I found out that he visits her every week on Thursday and that it was her birthday when I ordered flowers for my boss.
I make my way downstairs and think that maybe he isn't even aware that he is lonely because he likes to stay to himself and keep his weaknesses and quirks a secret from anyone around him. It takes at least a bit of open behavior to make friends, letting new people in at least a bit and as far as I know he usually doesn't. Why he is so closed off I can only imagine because I haven't found it out to this day and probably never will. Not if I ask and he decides to not talk about it. Or I think I know too much about him. Maybe he has a wide circle of friends outside of Dauntless I am not aware of. Maybe they know him like I do or even better. And maybe the two empty rooms upstairs don't represent emptiness but nothing at all and I overinterpretate it.
When my bare feet meet cold tiling I look up to make out a few schemes in the darkness of his house. My fingertips glide along the wall to search for a lightswitch and I curse when I feel something brush my fingers before it falls to the floor, a shattering sound reaching my ears shortly after too loud for the darkness around me and in the silent house. I bite my lip in hope that it hasn't reached the master bedroom upstairs.
When I finally find the switch, I turn on the light and brace my eyes against the oncoming brightness. I need a moment to adjust my eyes to the change before I take in the damage I caused. A framed picture lays upside-down on the gray stonetiling, small pieces of glass sticking out under it and in chaotic patterns around it. I bite my lip remorsefully before I start to go around it carefully to not cut my bare feet. I search for some utensils to clean up the mess I caused, finding a dustpan and a broom in one corner of the room. I start to sweep up the pieces and deposit them in the bin. With careful fingertips I pick up the frame, the picture still intact and a sigh of relief leaves my parted lips.
The picture is of my boss, next to a woman that has the same hair and eyes, feminine features and is probably only a few years older. A small boy sits in between them, holding a cone of ice cream. In the background I can see a Ferris Wheel – so the photo was probably taken at the Navy Pier in the middle of the summer judging from the clothes they wear. Its strange to see him like this, kind of carefree smile on his face, features soft. I always thought he was an only child, but maybe he is and the woman in the picture is a cousin? It doesn't matter though, I tell myself and place the frame on the dark-gray counter making a mental note to buy a new frame for it.
His kitchen is as modern as the rest of the house with a table in the middle of the room. Its clean and a bit cold. Maybe he doesn't use it too often? The room stands in stark contrast to his living room and office, both feeling homey and warm – lived in. I frown slightly because it would just fit him to not cook for himself when I have to remind him often enough to take a break to eat something in the office. How he still can look that nourished is a miracle.
Well, today he will start his day with a good breakfast, I tell myself and start to go to his refrigerator. I bite my lip slightly because cooking something for him feels like I am more then just his secretary, feels like there is more between us then having had sex the day before. I shake my head slightly to chase away my thoughts and wishful thinking and start with the task at hand.
I hum lightly, turning the bacon in the pan and checking the eggs. I want this breakfast to be perfect because it may be the first and last we share. Something inside of me hurts at the thought and I close my eyes for a moment to try to concentrate on anything else. I hear light padding behind me, probably bare feet against the gray stonefloor of his kitchen. His bare arms snake around my waist, pull me against him.
“Morning.” He mumbles, pressing his lips on my one bare shoulder.
“Hey.” I whisper back and hope he doesn't hear the uncertainty.
“Now I know where my shirt went.” He says, hand slowly running down to the hem of his dark blue bottom-down shirt, taking it into his hands and pulling it up. He groans against my shoulder when his fingertips brush against my naked hips.
“Please tell me you were something underneath it.” He whispers, voice hoarse and teeth softly biting my skin.
“Do you want me to lie or do you want the truth?” I say, smiling slightly.
“You will be the death of me.” He says, groaning slightly, right hand going down to my pussy, fingers caressing the soft skin of my folds. I shudder against him, try to focus on cooking his breakfast to perfection but know I fight a losing battle when he starts to unbutton the shirt I wear, exposing me. Eric parts the material, tall frame overshadowing me and lets his hands wander over my small hips, along my flat stomach, to my breasts, cupping them gently. I sigh at the contact, leaning back against him, feeling my core react to his touches.
“Is breakfast finished yet?” He asks, his voice husky, making a shiver run down my spine.
“I just need to put it onto plates.” I answer, my voice low and a bit breathless. He turns off the stove, pushes the pans from the still hot burners and turns me around slowly. I look up to his face, his eyes still a bit small after his sleep, hair tousled in an endearing way. I smile slightly, brushing my hands up over his strong bare arms to his shoulders and neck, drawing small circles on his warm skin. Something is different this morning but not uncomfortably so.
He lifts me up against him, wraps my legs around his narrow waist, his lips meeting mine in a hard kiss. My hands in a reflex wander to his cheeks, pulling him against me, the line of hair on his stomach tickling my sensitive folds.
I feel him turning us around and he sets me down on the table gently, hands pushing away the fabric of his dress shirt on my body. Eric stands between my legs, his hand brushing away some strands of my own sleep-tousled hair, his eyes unreadable when they meet mine. He takes a small step back, hands leaving the underside of my thighs and lets his gaze wander down. Fire erupt underneath my skin where I feel his eyes on my body. His gray eyes are darker again, a slight, thoughtful crease between his brows. One of his hands wanders from my waist to my breast, his fingertips against the back of my ribcage, the heel of his hand brushing against the soft tissue. His fingers glide forwards, making a small laugh escape my parted lips.
“Ticklish, hm?” He whispers, his pointer finger and thumb pinching my erected nipple, making me moan from deep in my throat. I watch through half-lidded eyes when he licks his lips, repeating his ministration. The knuckles of his other hand glide along my inner thigh and when he reaches my folds he dips one of his fingers in my wet core, making my hips jerk and me sigh in relief. But he pulls back right after it, a playful gleam in his gray eyes when he looks at my disgruntled face.
He steps back up, his wet finger gliding along my hip to my ass. Eric leans down afterwards, his other hand leaving my breast to brace himself against the table and kisses my lips leisurely before starting his journey down, placing hot open-mouth kisses along my neck I didn't expect to be so soft and gentle. When he reaches my breasts he lets his tongue dart out, teasing the sensitive bud and I lean back a bit, bracing my hands behind me on his kitchen table. He holds me up, his hand strong at the small of my back and watches me again for a moment, maybe marvels in my reaction to his barely there touch.
His hand pushes me up a bit, kissing me again, his eyes holding mine. I bite his lip, letting my tongue ease the small bite and he growls at me, making sure I know my place. I want to sling my arms around him to pull him against me, to feel his warmth engulf me, but he slowly goes down to his knees. I spread my legs a bit further to give him more room and he licks his lips again.
“So responsive... so beautiful.” He whispers against my stomach, biting the skin softly, his hands spreading my legs a bit wider, fingertips gliding along my inner thigh, skin rippling under his touch. When he is on his knees, mouth perfectly aligned with my hot sex, he blows softly at it, making me shudder and groan in response to the cool sensation of his breath on it.
“Breakfast is ready...” He murmurs more to himself I think, but it makes me blush and bite my lip in anticipation. He places my right leg on his shoulder, his hands softly pulling me forward on his desk and repeats the action with my other leg. I don't feel embarrassed to be this exposed in front of him, the glint in his eyes telling me he enjoys the view immensely. His tongue darts out of his mouth, shortly brushing against my soft folds, his finger dipping between them, knuckle brushing my clit. I moan and feel him smirk when he nibbles the inside of my thigh before finally meeting my throbbing pussy fully.
He changes between sucking my bundle of nerves and blowing onto my wet folds, separating them with two fingers, licking me from top to bottom. He takes leisure licks of my juices, humming to himself and all I can do is enjoy his ministrations.
“Taste so good...” He mumbles, his finger teasing my entrance without entering and I groan, feeling my abdomen tighten in anticipation and the need to be filled already. His mouth descents on my clit again, his teeth carefully biting down on the tissue and a loud groan escapes my lips, head falling backwards, legs shaking. He continues to tease his fingers along my entrance, never dipping into it before it starts to travel further back to my anus. I try to relax as he circles it like he did yesterday but feel slight panic rising within me.
“Shh”, he whispers, his tongue massaging my entrance now distracting me, “relax, love. You will like it.” I feel him pressing down on my anus a bit more, entering it slightly and the sensation is slightly painful, foreign but evokes another lustful moan. I give up then, relax back even further and hear him hum in appreciation.
Eric licks my folds, continues to softly touch me, making me boneless with every lick he takes at my throbbing sex, working me up so much I feel like something inside of me will rip soon. I moan loudly, my hands going to my breasts, pinching and massaging them in rhythm with his touches slowly and gently pumping fingers at my anus and the licks of his tongue.
“Thats a girl”, he mumbles and I bite my lip to stop from groaning at his tone. The knot in my stomach tightens even more, my legs shaking in exhaustion but something is missing, the last step to make me cum.
“Please...” I groan out, ready to let go but not quite there yet. I flex my muscles in my abdomen, try to find the friction that would give me the last push and let my hand wander down, push myself up on one elbow. He looks at me, his eyes knowing, and my head lolls back.
“Eric..please...” I say with desperation clouding my voice. I feel his other hand move from keeping my hips down, joining his tongue and when he starts to insert two fingers into my pussy I come undone violently, gripping my breast hard and a guttural noise leaving my throat. I ride his fingers, feel his eyes on me and then he is gone. I hear water running in the sink, but I am too breathless and boneless to move a muscles. Before I know why and where he went I feel his now cold, wet hands on my hips, lifting me up from the table, pulling me up against him.
“Everything alright?” He asks and I nod against his neck. I pull my head up slightly, open my eyes half-way, still in a daze from my orgasm but meet his lips when he leans forward. I am orientated enough now, giving in to my strong urge to show him how I feel through the connection, nibbling his lip, sucking at his tongue and letting my hot and soft lips caress his. He groans against me, his arms tightening around my body for a moment. Eric puts me down then, looking into my eyes and caresses my cheek.
“I want you like I said yesterday.” He says and I blush at the memory of him pressing against my ass in the kitchen of the office. My hands wander down to his boxer shorts, teasing him with letting my fingertips brush along the waistband, the abs of his stomach rippling with the touch. He leans down and bites my earlobe.
“Don't tease me..” He whispers roguishly and turns me around. His hand pushes my upper body forward until my breast are pressed against the cool surface of his table and I shiver. I feel him move behind me, hear fabric hitting the floor softly.
He parts my legs with his knee, his hand caressing my back and ass, drawing circles on my skin and I bite my lips when I feel his hot erection against me. His fingers dip down to my still wet pussy, taking up some of the fluids to brush along my ass and his cock. He positions himself at my entrance, my core throbbing with need. He takes his time though and I envy his control when I myself can't control myself, pressing my pussy back against his cock, letting its head enter me. But he strengthens the grip on my hips, keeping me down.
“Stay still or I will let you wait longer.” He commands and I bite my lip because his rough voice does nothing to me except turning me on even more. I feel one hand leave my hip and withstand my body's need to move already. He presses his thumb to my anus, making me shudder and finally pushes his hips forward, making me cry out. He groans above me, his hand at my ass squeezing hard, his nails scraping along my spine.
“So tight... gods...” He groans, thrusting into me deeply and the image of him watching his cock enter and leave me comes back to my mind and makes my toes curl in building pleasure. I bite my lip, mewl at the sensation of him in me and flex my muscles in my abdomen, making him grip my ass tighter.
“Do it again.” He demands, voice low and I comply without a second thought. He picks up his pace slowly, taking me hard and deep, making me jerk in pleasure. I try to find anything to hold onto, to give me the safety of not losing myself but find nothing, my voice strangled when he hits something deep inside of me. A throaty moan leaves my abused lips, my voice hoarse and feel his pointer finger enter my anus. This time I don't jerk away, letting him penetrate me both ways and bite my lip hard, feeling tears prickling at the back of my eyes because it just is too much, the intensity too high.
“Gods...” I cry out, the knot winding tighter and tighter within me, my core throbbing with building pleasure, my insights hot.
“Cum for me.” He hoarsely whispers, angling himself to brush against another spot within me and its all I need to orgasm for the second time this morning, taking him with me when my walls clench around him hard.
“Tris...” He shouts, gripping my waist, and I feel his legs shudder against mine. I use the new freedom of my hips to move along his last shuddering thrusts until all movements stop and he leans forward, his broad chest covering my back. He kisses my neck, the fingers of his hands interwining with mine and we lay still, our hearts again beating fast and synchronous.
We separately get ready for the day ahead. I don't feel too comfortable wearing the same clothes I did yesterday and decide that I will take a cab from his house to my loft at the other end of the city. When I enter the kitchen he wears a smart dark-blue suite, white dress shirt underneath and a blue tie that he hasn't bound yet. Except for this small detail he looks like my boss again, like the man I fall in love with nearly two years ago and I am reminded that everything changed. I step up to him without meeting his eyes and hear him put down his coffee mug on the counter.
His hands go around my waist and I feel his eyes fixed on my face but don't look up. My hands go to his tie, easily binding it to a perfect knot around his neck. Before I step back I brush my fingers unnecessarily over his jacket, but I can't stop myself from touching him and don't want this little adventure or whatever it is to him to end just yet. His hands fall to his side and I try to occupy my hands with searching for really nothing in my bag that stands on the table we used for something entirely different from sharing a meal not two hours ago.
The clock reminds me that he needs to be at the airport in forty minutes, to go through the security checks and board the plane. I should feel relieved to go back to work and have the time to think about everything but I am not because it means he has time to think as well and maybe comes to the conclusion that our encounters were just that – small sexual situations he enjoyed but isn't excited enough to repeat. Maybe he wants me to start looking for a new job and tells me so when he comes back because I don't think we can be working as professional as before. I know I can't. Maybe it would have been different if I wasn't interested in him as a person, if I wasn't in love with him beforehand. But that's not the reality I find myself in. And though it hurts it may be the right decision to just quit.
“I will call you when the meeting is over.” He says, still watching me and I nod, half-way turned away from him.
“Make sure to be available in case Erudite is calling again. Maybe you should just let Hayes do it anyway.” Eric continues and I bite my lip.
“I think I can deal with their petty complaints.” I answer levelly.
“Sure you do, but why bother with it when someone else could do it.” He points out and I scoff.
“You are one to talk.” I whisper more to myself because he isn't able to delegate his massive workloads to anyone else.
“That isn't the point, Tris.” He growls and I know my quiet quip hit a sore point. I meet his eyes then.
“Just stop, ok. I know I can handle it and its not like it ever concerned you before...”, I make an unsure gesture with my hands between us and sigh, “I am still your secretary and I am still good in my job, still good at the things I do.” I answer, teeth clenched slightly and its unfair that I feel angry at him all of the sudden because it isn't his fault that I love him and I don't have the courage to ask him what he feels.
“I know you are.” He answers casually and I bite my lip, averting my eyes. Eric closes the gap between us, his hand grasping my hip hard and turns my face back to him.
“Whats the matter?” He asks, eyes trained on my face.
“I think you know the answer, Eric.” I say, sighing, squinting my eyes for a moment to stop the burn behind them. He lets his hand go to my jaw, rough pads of his fingertips gliding along the skin and I need everything within me to not sigh and lean into it.
“You are in love with me.” Eric says and his tone makes me jerk away a bit. It sounds detached, like he is talking about anything random, about papers I need to check. I don't answer him, but hate the tear that escapes my eye. He sighs, but doesn't stop touching me even though I think it would help the situation because the way he handles it lets me know he doesn't feel the same for me. I look up then, into his face – the face I love.
“Tris, I don't have time for that now. I will call you later when the meeting is finished.” I don't think it will change anything and I don't think his feelings will change just like that, but I nod anyway, pulling away from him even though I want to stay at least close to his body.
“We have to go.” Eric says, eyes a bit darker and his hand goes to the small of my back, leading me outside. The air is fresh and smells like snow. I take in the white around me, though bright also calming. He wants to push me forward to his car but I step away from him.
“I will take a cab. I have to go home before I go to the office.” I tell him. He watches me for a second, his face serious, his eyes becoming hard.
“Ok. Check the arrangements for the party next year. If anything happens, call me.” Eric says and I feel the burning behind my eyes because it doesn't feel right. None of this does since we parted ways in the kitchen. I just nod and he leaves.