6

I look away from them, not wanting to make them self-conscious or worried about attracting attention. My focus comes to rest on a familiar face. “They aren’t the only ones. That looks like Joel, over there.”

“We’re getting too old for this place if we’re running into my kid,” King says, his smile disappearing.

“He’s cozy with his date.”

King’s head snaps up and he looks for Joel. “Where are they?”

“Right over by the bar,” I say. “Making out.”

“The fuck?” His eyes widen.

“What is it?” I ask. Joel’s kissing the redhead, but not doing anything else I think King would object to.

“That’s not his girlfriend,” King says. “I saw him with someone at work. What a little prick. I can’t believe I raised that kid.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” I say. “His mother got her claws into him and turned him against you early on.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he grumbles.

It was, but if he wants to tell himself a different story about it, that’s fine with me, I guess.

“Well, maybe it’s just casual with the other woman,” I say.

“That’s not the impression I got,” King says, frowning in the direction of his son and the redhead.

“Or he’s just screwing around,” I say, “and everyone involved knows the deal. In which case, he’s not cheating.”

King looks thoughtful. And pissed off. But that’s his usual mien, so okay.

I try to check on the threesome who were dancing and possibly getting their woman off on the dance floor, but they’re gone now. Well, wherever they went, I’m sure they’re having a great time. Too bad King and I don’t have a little princess to pamper like those other two lucky fuckers have.

 

   

Ella

I like working Fridays and cleaning at Tyler Analytics, because Joel will usually stay even later and he and I have a longer dinner. My stomach rumbles. I worked at my second job at the pub during lunch, but that feels like a long time ago.

The first time I walk past Joel’s office, he’s on his phone and he doesn’t look up and see me. The second time I walk past, though, he stands up and gestures me in. As I step through the door, he quickly moves to the windows that face into the hallway. Frowning, he yanks the blinds closed.

Because wow, how terrible it would be for anyone to even see us speaking in here.

“Hey, I tried to call you last night,” I say.

“Oh, yeah.” He checks that the blinds are covering every last centimeter of glass. Sorry I missed you. I had to help a friend with something.”

That’s weirdly nonspecific. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Brent’s just going through some stuff.” He tugs me to his side and kisses my cheek. “Come here, baby.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t like it when you call me ‘baby.’”

“No? All right, I won’t, then.” He unbuckles his belt.

“You can at least give me a real kiss, first,” I say, winking.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course.” His lips are cold on mine and he tastes like stale coffee. If he knew we were going to mess around, the least he could’ve done was popped a breath mint.

I’d say Joel’s and my relationship honeymoon is over, but I’m doubting it ever began.

“Hang on a sec,” he says, then does something with his computer.

I laugh. “You’re not filming us, are you?”

“What? Film us? No way, babe—I mean, no way. That’s a horrible thing to think.”

He tugs me down to the floor and it’s the same as it always is. We lift up my dress. He pinches and twists my nipples just enough to get me wet, and then he’s asking if it’s okay, and I say yes because I like sex and like a fool, I think maybe this time it will actually be good.

And…it’s fine. I’m aroused. Turned on, now that we’re actually doing the thing and I’m no longer hung up on his bad breath.

I move my hips experimentally, trying to get a better angle, and…there. Now I’m getting into it. His eyes look a little darker right now, almost like his dad’s. I wish we were in a different position, but I’m afraid to ask him to move now that I finally found a good angle for his dick to hit inside of me.

Seems a shame we’re on the floor again, though. All this perfectly good furniture. He could bend me over the desk. He could order me to climb beneath it and suck him off while he sits here pretending to work. He could splay me across the couch and rut into me like an animal.

But nope. Here I am on the floor on my back. And it’s like he’s not even trying to make any contact with my clit.

I try to sneak a hand in between us so I can get myself off, but he either isn’t aware of what I’m trying to do, or he doesn’t care, because he doesn’t move to give me room.

So I go somewhere else in my head. A place where I’m in a dominating man’s office and he’s bending me over the desk, lifting up my maid’s uniform and spanking my ass before fingering me to a delicious orgasm.

Is it wrong to fantasize about other things, and maybe other people, during sex? Am I emotionally cheating on my boyfriend? It feels wrong. I shouldn’t do it.

But thoughts of Joel’s father pop into my head—filthy fantasies of punishments and rewards.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Joel says.

There it is again, baby. After I said I didn’t like it, after he said he wouldn’t.

But as we continue fucking, the word twists in my head.

In my mind, it’s Mr. Tyler saying it, calling me baby, and the term of endearment has an entirely different spin. Suddenly it means I’m a treasured companion, not a fuckboy’s throwaway girlfriend.

Baby girl, Mr. Tyler says in my mind, just before he spanks my ass red.

To my utter surprise, I come, gasping and clutching Joel’s shoulders.