complies.
Asia walks in and walks back less than a few seconds later. She stands by the door that leads from the powder room into the toilets, her shoulders down, her arms crossed in front of her, and her tears continue to flow.
So vulnerable, so damn beautiful.
“Now, why are you crying?” I ask her, as she subtly turns away from me.
“It doesn’t matter; it’s not your problem.”
“Are you insane? If it concerns you, then it concerns me.” I put my hands in the pockets of my suit pants and straighten my back.
“This has nothing to do with you…” she hesitates, waiting for me to tell her my name.
“As always, Sir will do,” I say in my own smug tone.
She rolls her eyes again and blows a huge breath out. “You’re exactly like everyone else, so I’m not sharing shit with you,” she says as she tries to step past me to leave the restroom.
That crap doesn’t fly. Her tough, sassy exterior is her defense mechanism, and nothing more.
I grab her by the upper arm as she attempts to leave the room. My hand is tightly wrapped around her soft, warm skin, not allowing her leave, commanding her to stay.
“Stop,” she says in a small innocent voice. My gaze follows the line of her exposed throat, delicate smooth skin screaming at me to lower my mouth and mark her, to rule her, to conquer every inch of her body.
“Tell me why you’re in tears,” I say as I lean down and allow my lips a gentle taste of the column of her throat.
“It doesn’t concern you,” she struggles to say again. She’s attempting to hold on to her control, not wanting to give me the sadness and pain in her soul.
I lightly tease her skin with my tongue, just showng her a tiny sample of the pleasure I can give her. I nip on her ear lobe and she mewls softly as she pushes her body into mine.
“Everything about you concerns me,” I say, reminding her she’s yet to tell me what the hell is going on.
“I just need some time. I’ll be fine.” She leans her forehead against my chest, just relaxing into me, finally giving me something.
“Asia.” I place my finger under her chin, and tilt her head up so she can’t hide from me.
“Yeah,” she whimpers.
“Sorry?” ‘Yeah’ – really?
“What?”
Now she’s pissing me off.
“It’s ‘yes’ and ‘pardon’, not ‘yeah’ and ‘what’,” I snap, barely preventing my rage from breaking through.
Suddenly her eyebrows knit together, her breath becomes ragged and she pulls back. She looks concerned, frightened but also aroused.
“Pardon?” she says, her voice shaky, but husky with desire.
“You have nothing to worry about. Now tell me what’s happened.”
She takes a deep breath, obviously debating with herself on what she should and shouldn’t say. Finally, after a few moments of internal struggle, she actually opens her mouth to speak. “It all happened so fast. First my boss brought me into his office to pink-slip me, and then right after that my boyfriend called and told me he wants to break it off. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Your parents?”
“Both died two summers ago when their house burnt while they were sleeping.”
Her body collapses against mine. She begins shaking uncontrollably, sobbing, and I do the only thing I can. I support her, trailing my fingertips up and down her back. I begin to feel her relax as she becomes accustomed to me and my body.
“Come on. You can stay with me until we can figure this out.”
Of course her parents died. I knew that.
I even knew tonight she’d be fired from her job and her hopeless, low-life boyfriend would throw her out of their apartment, because I had one of my associates pay him a visit.
I walk her out to my limousine and Stanley, my driver, stands holding the door open. He smiles at me, a discreet curve of his lips, just enough for me to see. I return his look, my own smile dancing triumphantly on my lips.
I help her into the car, wrap her in my arms and wait until Stanley has
Asia walks in and walks back less than a few seconds later. She stands by the door that leads from the powder room into the toilets, her shoulders down, her arms crossed in front of her, and her tears continue to flow.
So vulnerable, so damn beautiful.
“Now, why are you crying?” I ask her, as she subtly turns away from me.
“It doesn’t matter; it’s not your problem.”
“Are you insane? If it concerns you, then it concerns me.” I put my hands in the pockets of my suit pants and straighten my back.
“This has nothing to do with you…” she hesitates, waiting for me to tell her my name.
“As always, Sir will do,” I say in my own smug tone.
She rolls her eyes again and blows a huge breath out. “You’re exactly like everyone else, so I’m not sharing shit with you,” she says as she tries to step past me to leave the restroom.
That crap doesn’t fly. Her tough, sassy exterior is her defense mechanism, and nothing more.
I grab her by the upper arm as she attempts to leave the room. My hand is tightly wrapped around her soft, warm skin, not allowing her leave, commanding her to stay.
“Stop,” she says in a small innocent voice. My gaze follows the line of her exposed throat, delicate smooth skin screaming at me to lower my mouth and mark her, to rule her, to conquer every inch of her body.
“Tell me why you’re in tears,” I say as I lean down and allow my lips a gentle taste of the column of her throat.
“It doesn’t concern you,” she struggles to say again. She’s attempting to hold on to her control, not wanting to give me the sadness and pain in her soul.
I lightly tease her skin with my tongue, just showng her a tiny sample of the pleasure I can give her. I nip on her ear lobe and she mewls softly as she pushes her body into mine.
“Everything about you concerns me,” I say, reminding her she’s yet to tell me what the hell is going on.
“I just need some time. I’ll be fine.” She leans her forehead against my chest, just relaxing into me, finally giving me something.
“Asia.” I place my finger under her chin, and tilt her head up so she can’t hide from me.
“Yeah,” she whimpers.
“Sorry?” ‘Yeah’ – really?
“What?”
Now she’s pissing me off.
“It’s ‘yes’ and ‘pardon’, not ‘yeah’ and ‘what’,” I snap, barely preventing my rage from breaking through.
Suddenly her eyebrows knit together, her breath becomes ragged and she pulls back. She looks concerned, frightened but also aroused.
“Pardon?” she says, her voice shaky, but husky with desire.
“You have nothing to worry about. Now tell me what’s happened.”
She takes a deep breath, obviously debating with herself on what she should and shouldn’t say. Finally, after a few moments of internal struggle, she actually opens her mouth to speak. “It all happened so fast. First my boss brought me into his office to pink-slip me, and then right after that my boyfriend called and told me he wants to break it off. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Your parents?”
“Both died two summers ago when their house burnt while they were sleeping.”
Her body collapses against mine. She begins shaking uncontrollably, sobbing, and I do the only thing I can. I support her, trailing my fingertips up and down her back. I begin to feel her relax as she becomes accustomed to me and my body.
“Come on. You can stay with me until we can figure this out.”
Of course her parents died. I knew that.
I even knew tonight she’d be fired from her job and her hopeless, low-life boyfriend would throw her out of their apartment, because I had one of my associates pay him a visit.
I walk her out to my limousine and Stanley, my driver, stands holding the door open. He smiles at me, a discreet curve of his lips, just enough for me to see. I return his look, my own smile dancing triumphantly on my lips.
I help her into the car, wrap her in my arms and wait until Stanley has
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