Chapter 71 – Pleasing the Boss

The meal progresses with no relief in tension, though I’m not sure anyone notices it besides me. It’s Elvis who introduces me to Jisella, whom he seems to have chatted up for almost the entirety of the time Hadrian was escorting me around the room. They even have inside jokes already, which is so Elvis whenever he meets a pretty woman. Especially a woman from his own home country.

Hadrian doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, and is relatively quiet for most of the meal. Every now and again, I swear I feel him looking at my profile, but when I turn my head, he’s always staring elsewhere. He doesn’t talk about the wine, and while that’s a blessing, I’m also stupidly disappointed. It’s embarrassing how much I enjoy hearing him go on about his passion. How much I love hearing him say anything, actually. Like I’m a silly teenager with a crush instead of a grown married woman.

What the f**k is wrong with me?

I am here with Elvis.

When he puts his arm on the back of my chair, I sit straighter. He’s marking his territory, but fine. I am his territory, aren’t I? I should be happy about that. It’s what I always wanted, wasn’t it?

I pay little attention to the conversation around me, until halfway through the meal.

“I can’t keep them all straight.” Jisella’s accent is slightly thicker than Elvis’s. “There’s Arty and then your dad.” She gestures toward Hadrian. “Is he the oldest? He’s getting married,” she says as an aside to everyone who is listening.

“We’ll see about that,” Hadrian says, quickly.

If I cared—which I most certainly do not—I would ask why he seems so defensive about it.

But I don’t care, and it’s probably rude to ask, and anyway, I’m more interested in proving that I know more about Hadrian’s family than Jisella. “Henry is the oldest. Then Reynard. They both run Seymour Industrial. Then it’s Samuel—Hadrian’s father—and August who both ran SNC until Samuel’s heart attack. Then Hadrian took over. I’m not sure why it didn’t go to August.”

Think I’m not special? Think again.

I’m such a child.

For the first time since dinner started, Hadrian perks up. I know exactly when he sees Elvis’s hand on the back of my chair, because his eyes narrow and his features darken. “The board voted me in,” he says. “After much campaigning on my father’s part.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Jisella looks as if she’s trying to see it all in her head. “And then Arty’s the baby of the family.”

“A very well-off baby,” Elvis remarks. “Is he working?”

Jisella launches into explaining how Arthur has become devoted to lobbying, mostly in the best interest of both of the companies because, although they aren’t all under the same umbrella, all the brothers have shares in both. It’s surprising how much she knows about all of it, and how detailed she gets. It’s somewhat disgusting, in my unspoken opinion, how much money plays into what laws get passed, but that’s not my business, and frankly it’s hard to think at all because in the middle of her speech, I feel a hand sl*p through the side cutout of my dress, over my stomach, and down.

And it’s not coming from the side my husband’s sitting on.

The dress doesn’t allow me to wear pa**ies, which I’m beginning to think was Hadrian’s plan all along, but there’s an easy way to shut this down. p**ss my th**hs together. That’s all.

Instead, I slowly ease my legs further apart.

It’s like I’m an addict. Or a glutton for shame.

Or I just know how good it will feel when Hadrian’s fi**ger reaches the hidden bud of nerves. When he p**sses against my c**t with the expertise he somehow managed to achieve in such a short time of knowing me, it’s all I can do not to audibly sigh in relief.

I don’t know how this can possibly end. There’s no way I can try to hide an orgasm from six strangers, one who is my husband and is familiar with my O face. But I lift my h*ps up, an invitation for Hadrian to travel lower.

Which he does.

My breaths get quicker. I smile and nod my head as if I’m listening. Bring my napkin to my mouth to hide the need to bite my lower l*p as pleasure builds and builds. As I feel it start to get away from me.

Then Elvis places his hand on my th**h, surprising me and jolting me to my senses. I drop my fork, and it clatters noisily on my plate. Hadrian pulls his hand away, but it still feels like the whole room is looking at me. Like the whole room saw.

“Sorry.” I glance at Hadrian, in time to see him l**k my p**sy juice from his fi**ger.

My cheeks redden, out of proportion to the perceived faux pas because no one except Hadrian knows the real reason I’m blushing. Another dirty secret we share. Another taboo intimacy. Another reason to feel there is something special bet**en us.

No one’s special.

I jump to my feet, so fast I almost knock over my wine. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.” I force a short laugh. “Excuse me.”

“Bathroom’s down that hall, first door on the left.” Elvis assumes that’s what I need.

I nod and head that direction, needing to be alone. Needing to be anywhere that Hadrian isn’t. Needing it so badly, I practically run.

The bathroom door is closed when I approach it. Before I can even consider knocking on it, Hadrian’s threadbare voice comes from behind me. “Keep walking. Two more doors. On the right.”

We’re pretty much alone in this hallway. It’s as fine a place as any to say this has to stop, but I’m driven by something stronger than reason when I’m with Hadrian, and I don’t hesitate at all. Just continue until I’m opening the door he indicated and walking into what appears to be a mudroom of sorts, with a bench for storage and hooks for coats, and under cabinet lights that turn on when I enter.

Hadrian is on my heels. I hear the cl**k of the door shutting, and when I turn around, I collide into him, my l*ps finding his for an instantly frenzied k**s.

I give into it for the smallest of moments, wr*pping my fi**gers into his suit jacket, feeling the want in my belly and the clench of my p**sy as his mouth bosses mine. I want him. It’s a lie to try to tell myself otherwise. I want him, and it hurts to want him because even when I have him, I don’t have him.

I never have him.

The thought cuts through the lust haze, and I break off the k**s, and back away. “What are you doing, Hadrian?”

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