17. Seventeen

Seventeen

P reparations for the coming weekend's wedding occupy all of my time and cause the morning to fly by in a blur. I'm in the process of finalising the drinks packages with Olly, when George appears at our side, hovering by the bar. He tugs a navy and white polka dot handkerchief out of the front pocket of his blue jacket and mops his brow.

"Sophie, Art has asked to see us both in his office right away."

Yesterday George was moaning about him not being at the hotel, and now he's here, his presence has thrown George into a flap.

"He'll have to wait. I'm busy." I glance up and catch the nervous look in George's eyes at the fact that I'm not going to do as asked by the big boss. "I need to get this sorted before I leave today."

Olly flashes me a smile of misplaced gratitude at my choosing to be with him rather than Art. It's my day off tomorrow, so I really do need to get it done today .

George hesitates as if he's malfunctioning and isn't sure what to do.

I give him a polite smile. "I'll join you both once I've finished."

He clears his throat and gives an uncertain nod at the prospect of relaying this information to Art. "Yes, very good. I'd better go on up. I don't want to keep him waiting." And with that he hurries off in the direction on the staircase.

"It's like George is scared of him," I say in disbelief, turning my attention back to the drinks order on top of the bar.

"Yeah well, guys like Art Black swan around the place with their flash cars and designer clothes and it's all an image. Underneath there's never usually any substance to them, they're just tossers." Olly pulls a face to show he's not impressed, and I want to tell him he couldn't be more wrong. "He doesn't intimidate me."

Olly acts like a cat on a hot tin roof whenever he's around and I fear this speech is for my benefit.

"What do you think of him?"

"Nothing much." I wrinkle my nose and feign a lack of interest, studying the drinks order. Clearly mine and Art's entanglement has gone unnoticed by the rest of the staff, and I can't help but feel relieved. "So, after the wedding it's a champagne reception out on the terrace. The forecast says sunshine for most of the afternoon so that should be fine," I carry on, eager to steer the conversation back onto work. "The couple have also requested a bucket of Peroni on ice." I glance up to check Olly is taking notes, but he isn't. He's staring at me.

"If I asked you out again would you say yes?"

Taken aback, my mouth drops open in surprise as my brain whirs to try and find the right words. I must be taking too long because before long a look of resignation appears on Olly's face.

He briskly shakes his head as if he doesn't want me to speak and say the words. "It's okay. I thought I'd put it out there again."

I feel like shit. He's nice, caring, and good-looking in a boy-next-door kind of way. He'd look after me and idolise me. But he doesn't make my heart flap against my rib cage whenever he looks at me. There's no spark in my bones when I'm in the same room as him. Nevertheless, I feel as if I'm going to kick a puppy.

"You're a nice guy, Olly. The right girl's out there, somewhere."

"It's fine, Soph," he says a little too quickly, which tells me things are far from it. "Just know, if you ever change your mind… well, you know." There's an awkward pause as he stares down at his note pad and picks up a pen. "Anyway, where were we?"

Fifteen minutes later, I knock on Art's office door and push it open. George sits on a black office chair the other side of the desk and both men look up as I enter.

"Sorry I'm late. I was just sorting out the drinks for Saturday's wedding," I apologise, sliding onto the empty chair beside George. Art sits back in the tan leather chair, his fingers linked in his lap and scowl on his face.

"How nice of you to join us." There's a sarcastic edge to his tone which flummoxes me. "I asked to see you and George as we need to increase revenue coming into the hotel. It's making a loss. At this rate the place will be closed within the next six months. I need ideas."

I'm momentarily stumped by his foul mood and abrupt nature and steal a glance at George, who is staring down at the floor. A sheen of sweat glistens across his bald head, and he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. I don't have to be psychic to know Art has given him a hard time.

"Okay," I say slowly. "What ideas have we got so far?"

"I suggested we try Murder Mystery weekend packages for off-peak season as that would secure room bookings." George keeps his eyes to the floor. "But Art disagreed with me."

"I don't think that's the right image for the place." Art's thumbs are tapping away in his lap, and he's visibly pissed off. What the hell has happened between this morning and now?

"Actually, I think that's a good idea," I enthuse, smiling at George whose eyes light up at the praise. "The hotel would make the perfect setting and it would be a minimum two-night stay with meals included. It would also encourage group bookings, as people tend to go to those events with friends."

Art considers me silently for a few moments as if weighing up the suggestion. "I'll think about it." Although he's softened a little, his mood shows no signs of improving as he steeples his fingers and presses them to his lips. "What's your idea?"

"We're only in June now, so hopefully we'll have the fine weather for a few more months. Why don't we hold some cocktail evenings? We could open up the bar, Orangery, and terrace for the summer evenings, and it would attract a younger clientele, if that's of concern to you. See how it goes at first and if it's a winner, we could branch out and provide bar snacks. You could also do a "buy one, get one free" on drinks up until seven o'clock to get people through the door. Olly's a good mixologist, so he'd be perfect for it."

George's head's bobbing up and down in agreement like a nodding dog, but Art's shoulders tense, and for some unknown reason I sense the shutters come down. He throws a look in George's direction. "You can go."

I'm suddenly questioning why he wants just me to stay and can't help but get the feeling I've pissed him off in some way. The difference between the Art in my office this morning and the one I'm faced with now is alarming, and I've no doubt I'm about to find out what's causing his foul mood.

"Oh," George says in surprise. "Oh, well. Okay. Yes." He leaps to his feet, clearly relieved at being granted a reprieve from more of Art's ill temper. "Good idea, I thought." He gives me a smile and hurries out of the door.

At least someone thought so.

The scowl on Art's face remains in place as he leans forward on the table and interlaces his fingers together on the desk. "I asked you to come up here with George."

I frown. "I was sorting out the drinks order for the wedding this weekend. I told George to tell you—"

"He did," he cuts me off.

I sigh with frustration. "Are you annoyed because I didn't drop everything? I was doing my job. "

"No, of course not."

I really don't get him. I'm bored of playing the guessing game and annoyed by his attitude. "You know, you don't have to be so bloody rude all the time. George was only trying to help and make a suggestion like you'd asked him to."

He exhales in irritation. "His suggestion isn't the image I want associated with the hotel. It needs to be high-end and younger. That generation tells their friends about it, spends money, goes on social media, and checks in."

"So, my idea would be perfect for that," I exclaim.

"Yes, and we'd need the help of your friend, Olly, for your idea, wouldn't we?" He brushes the front of his white shirt with the back of his hand and avoids my gaze. His voice is dripping with insinuation and the penny drops.

"Is this because… I was with Olly?"

He settles back into the chair and curls his hands around the wooden arm rests. "You mean Olly, the guy who wants to fuck you?" His gaze hardens.

Part of me wants to laugh out loud but I get the impression he's not in the mood. "You're jealous of Olly?"

His eyebrow arches. "No, but I don't want other guys salivating over what's mine."

A flame of desire ignites between my thighs at his possessiveness. I know he's being cocky and stupidly jealous, but I can't stop the flap of my heart against my rib cage. "I'm yours?"

"Every inch." He tilts his head to the side as he opens up his arms, beckoning for me to sit on his lap. His gaze softens. "Please, come here."

I hesitate as a surprising thought strikes me. For all his good looks and success, he's massively insecure. Maybe Olly's view of his character was partly true. Maybe it is all an image, a shiny veneer to impress and seduce. Now I'm starting to scratch beneath the surface, I'm beginning to discover the real him, vulnerabilities and all.

I get up from the seat and walk around to his chair, lowering myself onto his lap. No sooner has my backside touched down on top of his thighs, his hands are on my hips pulling me backwards against his chest .

"I know I acted like an arsehole with George. He was the only one here and I took it out on him."

At least he's admitting it. "It's not his fault. Don't be such a shit."

He rests his head back against the chair and sighs. "I just kept thinking about you being downstairs with a guy who clearly wants you."

I twist around in his lap to face him. I need to reassure him. Like he did to me, with Tara. "You've got nothing to worry about with Olly, or anyone for that matter."

His eyes slide to rest on mine. "I'm not worried about you. I know what guys are like when they see a beautiful woman. Remember that guy in Bar Red? They're all like him. They're animals." He grazes a fingertip down my cheek. "I've waited a long time for this. Nothing's going to fuck it up."

My heart ricochets around my chest. "What have you waited a long time for?"

"You."

I swoon.

Soft lips cover mine as he kisses me languidly, our tongues dancing in unison. My hand slides down his chest as I feel my way across the peaks and dips of his muscles coming to rest on the bulge of his crotch. He lets out a deep groan from the back of his throat as I press my palm against him, and he pushes his groin against my hand, increasing the pressure. I unfasten his trousers and slip my fingers beneath the material of his boxer shorts, closing my hand around his thick, erect cock. He pulls his lips away from mine a fraction and sucks in a deep breath as if to steady himself. I feel his fingers in my ponytail as he wraps it around his hand like a rope. His eyes snap open. Liquid pools of black stare back at me.

"Suck me."

My eyes widen in panic and swing to the closed office door. I want to pleasure him, of course I do, but there's something about doing it at work that makes me nervous.

"Here?"

"Right now."

"What if someone comes in?"

"My next appointment's not for ten minutes. "

His reply abates my nerves a little.

I flash him a smile as I slide off his lap and lock eyes with him as I kneel in between his thighs. "I'd better be quick then."

He lifts his hips and pushes down his trousers and underwear allowing his cock to spring flat against his stomach. The only sound in the room is the deep, slow breaths coming from him as he keeps his eyes fixed on me.

I make sure I hold his gaze as I run my tongue over my lips to moisten them and curl my hand around the base of his cock. Thick, purple, and glistening with pre-cum, it's in need of some special attention.

"Open," he breathes.

I part my lips, and I take him slowly. The warm, musky taste of him makes my mouth water. I feel a flicker of desire in my centre as his eyes close and his breathing quickens. I want to give back some of the pleasure that he's given me, and I love the fact I'm in control of his climax, for once. I slide him in and out of my mouth, running my tongue across the length of him, paying special attention to the tip, which causes him to hiss aloud.

"Take it all," he pants. "Relax your jaw."

I feel slightly panicky at the instruction. He's big and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this, but I want to. I push self-doubt to the side and focus on what he said.

I tell myself to relax and give myself a few seconds then slacken my jaw. Slowly, I inch him further and further into my mouth until I'm fighting my gag reflex then I slide back to the tip and repeat the process, massaging his smooth balls with my free hand. It seems to have the desired effect as he throws his head back into the chair and his body tenses. His cock twitches in my mouth. Emboldened by his reaction I carry on at a pace, taking as much of him as I can until he's panting like a man on the edge.

He gives my ponytail a gentle tug causing me to lift my eyes to his face.

His head is still pressed into the chair and two black eyes are boring into me. "I'm going to come, and I want you to swallow. "

No sooner has he spoken than his cock grows even harder in my mouth, and he explodes.

Eyelids snapping closed, his body stiffens and his hips jerk as he spills his hot, salty seed down my throat. I swallow it down, then slide him from between my lips, wiping the corners of my mouth with a finger.

He crumples forward in the chair and drops his head in his hands. "Fucking hell." He shakes his head as if lost for words. "That was… incredible."

I beam inside and out, happy that I've given him back the same level of pleasure he's provided me so many times.

He raises his eyes to mine and gives me an easy smile as he offers me his hand. I take it, letting him help me to my feet. I smooth down my blouse and tidy my hair while he fastens his trousers and tucks his shirt back in. Then he catches my hand in his and pulls me to him. "You have an amazing mouth." He kisses me on the lips and that look of awe is back in his eyes as he gazes down at me. "It's never felt like that before."

A tingle of pleasure starts between my thighs and I slide my hand around his broad back and up to his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles beneath the cotton of his shirt. I want to jump him but know there's no time. "That's because I'm amazing," I tease.

"You are, in every." He kisses me. "Single." He kisses me again. "Way." And again.

I'm dizzy and I don't think it's because of all the kissing. I'm dizzy with happiness.

"Tonight I'll pick you up seven thirty. Don't wear anything too sexy, otherwise we might not make it out of the apartment."

"I can't promise that." I smile.

Two big hands glide around my waist and rest on my backside. "Who am I kidding? You look hot in whatever you wear. You distract me, totally."

I think I hear a movement in the corridor but can't be sure. I remove my hands from his back, but his hands remain firmly on my bum, and they don't show any signs of shifting.

"Who's your appointment with?"

"Only Tara. "

I roll my eyes at the mention of the woman's name. What the bloody hell is he meeting her for?

"She's dropping off some paperwork that I need to sign," he says, catching the annoyed look on my face. "That's all. She won't be staying long."

"You wouldn't care if she walked in on us?" I ask, unable to help myself.

His brow furrows slightly as if he's perplexed by the question. "Absolutely not." He grazes the tip of his nose against mine. "In fact, you could be straddling me, I couldn't give a fuck if she sees. I couldn't give a fuck if anyone sees."

His blatant disregard for people finding out about us makes my heart soar.

He kisses me passionately for what seems like forever, and we don't hear the footsteps across the landing or the door opening. When he eventually tears his lips from mine, I'm suddenly acutely aware of a figure standing in the doorway to the office.

Tara. A jet-black, high-neck, body-con dress skims her behind and clings to her curvaceous figure. A cloud of perfume follows her as she moves forward on her black patent platforms heels into the room. Her hair is drawn up in a high bun on top of her head and her crimson lips are pursued in disapproval at what she's just witnessed.

"Ah, Tara. Take a seat." He turns his attention back to me and smiles. "Tonight. Be ready."

"I will." I smile back. I glance in her direction to see she's sat on the chair, looking distinctly disgruntled. I give him one last kiss, then smile and walk away, throwing a self-satisfied smile in her direction.