Jagger Page 7

  Today is dressy Friday again.

  It’s a beautiful summer day with a sparkling blue sky and fluffy white clouds floating high in the air. The weekend is almost here.

  Perched on four-inch heels, fashioning a red sleeveless dress that molds to my body and closes at the back with a long metallic zipper, I strut across the hallway.

  The dress outlines my figure and sets off my chest. I’m not extremely busty, but I’m proportionate enough to pull off an hourglass silhouette in a fitted dress.

  I spent an hour this morning styling my tresses into a long, shimmering curtain of straight hair. Shifting my purse from one hand to the other, I veer into my office, a smile plastered over my lips. The sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.

  Swiftly, Jagger pulls out of my chair and swishes by me, averting his eyes.

  “What are you doing in my office?” I throw at him, irritated.

  “Setting up your new email,” he tosses over his shoulder.

  Tense, I rush to my desk and feverishly check my laptop. The files I’m working on are all in their place, safely protected by my password. I think. And then I roll my eyes at my own naïveté. He’s IT for fuck’s sake, and my laptop is the company’s property. It’s not like I own the password or I write in my private diary.

  Taking a few long breaths, I look around, searching for a clue, anything to disperse my anxiety.

  The desk is in perfect order.

  Anyway, he has no reason to snoop inside my folders. I think. I hope. No, no... He wouldn’t. Why would he? He can see the articles on the website anyway, so what’s the problem?

  As illogical as it seems, it feels like a problem to me. I run my hand down my neck. Damnit. Dabbing my skin with a tissue paper, I wipe off sweat.

  I push the panic inducing thoughts aside, toss the purse on my desk and swivel to the fridge. I snatch a bottle of sparkling water and fill a glass. The fizzy, cold drink tickles my tongue and calms my nerves.

  Breathe, Violet.

  Breathe.

  It’s Friday.

  The week is almost over.

  “Have you received my email?”

  I flick my eyes to the doorway. That’s the problem with the open doors. You never know who will pop in. Jonas sticks his head inside, his eyes shining brightly.

  “Email... Email... Let me check... Nope. The last one is from last night.”

  He enters the office, his phone pressed to his ear. I open my mouth to say something and freeze instantly as his finger goes up.

  As he’s talking on the phone, I give him a swift once over. He sports black linen pants, a slim fit white shirt, and a pair of sunglasses that sit on top of his head. The dark stubble gives him a bit of an edge, a contrast to his innocent looking eyes.

  He ends the call and dashes away, leaving me hanging.

  Okay.

  I open the files I’m working on, and focus on the first one. I barely finish typing a sentence when Jonas tramps back into my office followed by Jagger.

  A storm of acid brews in my stomach.

  Guarded, Jagger looks at me, no emotion showing on his face.

  “She didn’t receive my email. Can you please double check?” Jonas motions to Jagger, who’s already at my desk and looking over my shoulder.

  I grab the mouse and frantically click, eager to close the document. Sure enough, the spinning rainbow pops up, putting a damper on my effort.

  Livid, I click some more, making everything worse, freezing the damn computer. Are you fucking kidding me? Is this the moment to do this to me, you fucking little... thing.

  Clenching my teeth, I crush a growl of frustration.

  Jagger’s eyes burn my face, giving me a heatstroke.

  “Violet?”

  Patience is not Jonas’ virtue. He signals to me to make room for Jagger whose eyes are already on the screen. The font is big enough you can see it from downtown Manhattan. Reluctantly, I push out of my chair, glancing at the title.

  Five foolproof ways to get him hard and ready

  My tongue floats in my mouth, my vocal chords vibrating with panic. I’m hardly the spontaneous person, less so in a room full of testosterone. Between my boss, whose eyes stay on me like humid heat and Jagger, whose piercing gaze puts holes in my face, I barely manage to breathe.

  I drag myself around the desk and stop next to Jonas as Jagger takes my place and starts working on my email.

  The light coming from the screen shifts on his face as he closes the documents, one by one.

  Shit. All of them were open? Oh, they fucking were. Ugh!!

  He bites the inside of his cheeks to crush his grin and shoots me a quick glance. He catches me studying him, and a devilish smile spreads over his face.

  Swiftly, I shift my focus to Jonas, and I finally grasp what he’s telling me.

  “It’s the greatest spike in traffic since we launched two years ago. You’ll see it in the report.”

  His eyes twinkle, exhilarated.

  “I was right, Violet. You’re really good. Your writing is witty, funny, and educational at the same time. The most viewed articles of the week are...”

  My heart stops, no air flowing into my lungs as he slides his finger across his tablet and pulls up the information.

  “How to give head like a pro, and Best ways to initiate a threesome, are the most popular stories of the week,” he says, not an inflection in his voice as if we’re talking about Christmas cookies.

  I’m pretty sure I just died.

  My blood comes to a full stop on my face, ready to bleed out of my eyes.

  I wish I could disappear.

  “In one week...” he says, and pauses for effect and also to check numbers and a graphic, “...they’ve done better than How to make monkey bread, the whole month of December, which was quite a hit during the holiday season.”

  My hands claw at my dress. This is not happening.

  The noise of glass hitting the floor rips into the silence. We both flick our eyes to the desk as Jagger collects the glass from the floor and places it next to the laptop, his eyes streaming the most annoying smile I’ve ever seen.

  “Sorry,” he says, barely containing his amusement.

  A soft hum draws Jonas’ eyes to his phone. He turns his back to us, steps in the hallway, and starts talking on the phone as Jagger rises to his feet.

  His eyebrows rise slowly, his lips curving into that obnoxious smile again.

  “It should work now,” he says, stretching his grin and I wish I could wipe that smirk from his lips.

  “You wanna try it?” he asks with the voice of an angel, and a subtle undertone in his words.

  He parts his lips and almost licks them, and my skin starts to boil beneath my dress. He motions to me to take a seat, holding my eyes all the way as I sashay around my desk and slip into my chair. Gingerly, I cross my legs, his eyes landing on my lap. A soft smile tilts his lips as he undresses me with his eyes.

  He braces a hand against the desk, boldly moving the other to the nape of my neck. Electric wires crackle down my back.

  I cut my eyes up to him, and he slowly pivots toward me, giving me a full view of his fly, the things between his legs even more obvious as he leans against the desk.

  The stonewashed navy jeans fit him perfectly, a fancy belt with dark imprints sitting low on his hips. A slim fit, cotton shirt, hugs his hard torso, the open neckline revealing the tank top underneath.

  His unmistakable fresh scent oozes out of his pores.

  He tilts his head down, and a few strands of hair slide over his eyes. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he slowly parts them, and for an irrational reason, I start gaping at his mouth.

  He tilts his chin up softly, encouraging me to turn my eyes to the screen––as if he knows I won’t. Instead, I let my eyes drag down his chest and stomach and then straight to his groin.

  I shoot my eyes up again and catch the glint of a sly smile. He’s baiting me, and I’m falling like a fool, and yet, beh
ind his game, I sense him curious, and I’m intrigued too.

  Our eyes connect, pushing any sense of reality away for a moment. Jonas' voice begins to fade away as he’s stepping into the hallway. He’s nothing but an abstract thought, my focus shifting to the man in front of me.

  Jagger’s fingers trace my skin, drawing a line from the back of my neck to the side of my face. His hand cups my face, the heel of his palm rolling gently, brushing the corner of my mouth, nudging my lips apart. It’s so bold and unexpected, and I can’t even wrap my mind around it before I open my mouth, and my breaths start coming faster.

  His lips are full and slightly open, and hunger fills his eyes.

  “So...” Jonas says, stepping back into the room, his eyes still on his phone.

  Jagger’s smile drops from his face, his eyes turning cold, unreadable again. He swiftly moves away. By the time Jonas looks in my direction, Jagger is already standing by his side.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” Jagger says to me with a professional voice, his eyes completely guarded.

  I nod, and he slips out the door.

  “It’s working?” Jonas asks.

  My eyes whip to the screen.

  “Yes,” I say, hoarse and muffled as if the mouse is stuck in my throat.

  “Good. Please review the full report. It has all the details. It should give you a pretty good idea. Your articles are good. Keep them coming,” he says, smiling and vanishing out the door.

  I fold into my chair, ready to go home.

  7

  Tony picks the restaurant. We arrive short after eight, and although it’s Friday night, only half of the tables are occupied.

  It’s summer after all, and a lot of people are on vacation.

  Dark brick walls outline the subtly lit space, antique furniture and mellow music setting the mood. The food, wine, and service are excellent according to hundreds of positive online reviews.

  We’re not exactly on a date, although sex is not off the table. Strangely enough, he was the one who called. He doesn’t like to be alone on a Friday evening as much as he doesn’t like to commit to anyone, so here I am. The solution to his problem.

  At a whim, I said yes. I’m all for non-commitment lately.

  The hostess shows us to a small booth next to a window. We get seated across from each other. From afar, we look like the perfect couple.

  His navy jacket, button down gray shirt and silk tie, scream money-flushed executive. I’ve chosen a slightly more risqué attire, opting for a dark green wrap dress with a plunging neckline, and a hemline stopping short of my knees. The soft fabric hugs my body, the push-up bra setting off my cleavage. Golden dangling earrings and red stilettos complement my look.

  “Red or white?” he asks.

  “Red,” I say and glance out the window.

  “Rosso di Montalcino,” Tony says to the sommelier before another man stops next to our table to take the order.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice eerily familiar.

  I can’t place it for a moment and then I do, and my blood drains out of my face. That’s not possible. It can’t be.

  Stiff as if I pulled a muscle, I slouch into the bench, throwing furtive glances in his direction. His eyes are still on Tony, but it’s only a matter of time before he’ll turn to me.

  Fragments of thoughts bounce around in my head. That night... The first night I ran into him... He was dressed like this. Tailored black pants, dress white shirt. Well, sort of. His shirt was wrapped around his waist. Although, he’s never mentioned he’s moonlighting as a waiter. But why would he?

  I try to make myself invisible, hoping he’ll just go away. As he keeps talking to Tony, I study the way his crisp white shirt stretches smoothly across his shoulders.

  He spins to me, and my eyes drop on the table.

  “Violet?”

  Tony’s voice sounds surprised as he registers my reaction. He looks at me, intrigued.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I suck in a sharp breath, swipe the menu off the table and roll with it.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I raise my eyes and run my gaze over Jagger’s face as if I’ve never seen him in my life. He meets my gaze, impassible. A sparkle flashes in his eyes as tension sets in his jaw, his reaction perfectly contained.

  “Do you know what you’d like to eat?” Tony asks, and I glance at the menu.

  “Risotto Con Carciofini e Parmigiano,” I say, reading the first thing that catches my eyes.

  “Branzino Alla Mediterranea for me,” Tony says. “We’ll keep a menu,” he adds as Jagger collects mine.

  He nods and swiftly glides away.

  Moments later a woman brings the food to the table and soon after the sommelier shows up again and pours more wine. Jagger makes one more stop, making sure we’re all set and then walks away, averting his eyes.

  Half hour in and a couple of glasses of wine later, I manage to relax and begin to listen to Tony. He gives me the scoop on his work. In his early thirties, he’s already climbed the ranks in a big pharmaceutical company, and is now running a large Sales Division. The money is good, the job coming with a lot of perks. He travels a lot and spends time overseas, and now I understand why he’s not interested in a committed relationship.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a trip to the restroom,” I say, looking around the room, searching for the sign pointing in that direction.

  Polite, he rises to his feet as I scoot out of the booth.

  I strut across the restaurant, veer onto a small hallway, make another right and enter the ladies room.

  Minutes later, I check my makeup, comb my fingers through my hair and walk out the restroom. I barely set foot in the corridor when an arm loops around my waist and pulls me through a nearby door into another hallway.

  Barely lit, the spot is not far from the emergency exit door. My back rolls against a wall as Jagger’s body comes to mine, his elbows sliding either side of my face.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snarl under my breath.

  He tilts his head down, looks into my eyes, and lowers his mouth, his lips brushing mine.

  A thunderbolt of heat burns through me.

  “Who is he, Violet?” he asks against my lips, his hoarse voice rolling through me like a ball of fire.

  He sounds tormented and jealous, and I try to push him away, yet I can’t move him an inch.

  “It’s none your damn business who he is,” I growl quietly.

  He looks down at me, his gaze dipping to my chest.

  “Really? I think we both know it’s my damn business,” he says, his eyes flicking up, his hands sliding down on me.

  Domes of pleasure form in his hands as he cups my breasts and gently kneads them. I push back a moan. Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, he slowly shakes his head and starts stroking my nipples.

  My thighs clench, my panties getting hot and wet.

  I suck in more air, and his eyes sparkle with a smile.

  “He can’t be your lover. You wouldn’t let me touch you if he were,” he murmurs as he slips his hands inside my bra and cups my bare breasts.

  A shudder rams through me. From the nape of my back down to my toes, tingles roll over me, my body washed with pleasure. I slide my fingers up his torso, barely containing the impulse to tear the shirt off him.

  Tilting my head back, I train my eyes on his beautiful face as he slowly kneads my mounds, and rolls his hips, grinding his cock into me.

  More pleasure flows through me, fast breaths rocking my chest.

  His lips curve into a slow smile as he presses himself harder, his six-two frame towering over me, his big, hard dick ready to ram into me.

  “Is he your fuck buddy?” he rasps, and I flinch, for a brief moment pulled out of the trance.

  His eyes darken.

  “He fucking is...” he growls, anger blazing in his eyes, and I sense him on edge, barely restraining himself.
r />   He runs his hand around my hip and splays his fingers over my ass, then slides them high between my thighs, snagging my dress up. He starts stroking me between my legs, feeding the need growing inside me.

  Hot and throbbing, I start to moan.

  He tugs my panties to the side, and brushes my swollen flesh, circling and rubbing my entrance, doing everything but entering me, all the while his hard length grinds against me.

  This is fucking crazy.

  I clutch his arms, and close my eyes for a moment, relishing his touch and just as I want to scream and beg him to finger fuck me, he goes still.

  Flushed and panting, I flick my eyes open and look at him, my mouth opening and closing a few times as I struggle to put my thoughts into words.

  “Why are you fighting me, Violet? Hmm?” he asks with a husky voice, and then flicks his tongue over my lips, driving me crazy.

  “You’re actually fighting yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, smiling as my body trembles in his hands.

  “I have to go,” I mumble, tense and hot, and torn.

  He lowers his mouth to mine, his lips tracing the seam of my mouth, his tongue sweeping mine. Teasingly. Slowly.

  “Half hour, Violet... There’s a dark alley, behind this building. Meet me there in half an hour. That’s all I’m asking. And if I can’t change your mind, you let go of me.”

  Like the wind, he pulls away from me and pushes through the kitchen door. Sounds of pots, pans, and loud voices come from inside resembling the noisy chaos in my head.

  Shaking, I smooth my dress, straighten my back, and walk back to the table.

  I scoop my phone out of my purse, slide off the bench and push up to my feet.

  “I have to make a phone call,” I say as Tony picks up the dessert menu.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yes. Chocolate cake for me,” I say pointing at the menu, evading his eyes.

  Swiftly, I pull away, sneak by a group of people who enter the restaurant, make a right, and walk around the corner. My eyes trace the dark alley all the way to the back where I spot a splash of white.

  Leaning against the wall, one knee bent, he’s waiting for me.