Sitting at my desk, in my office, I continued to plow through email concerning the latest issues at work. I had an interruption, from my mother, who called me crying. Again. More money issues, and she and my father were unable to pay their bills. A second interruption from my brother, who had gotten into yet another scuffle with the police, and needed bail money. A third call, from my ex, who wanted to let me know that I'd failed to pack the proper things for our son Xander's stay with him for the coming weekend.
All while trying to deal with the latest production issues for our largest client. Looking at the clock, I groan, realizing it was nearly 7pm, and I was simply done. Saving my work, I shut the computer down, and while waiting on it, I lean back my chair, rubbing my temple with my fingers, in a futile effort to push the headache away.
It started with the 9am emergency meeting to get the issues resolved, and the dissension among the members of my team. Engineers, developers, some of the smartest people I know, looking to dodge blame and pass the buck. We had a customer on the line, a customer was experiencing pain, and in these situations, I harbor no nonsense, and I politely, but firmly, handed out orders on who was to fix what, and all was well until he spoke.
The bane of my existence. Headstrong, cocky, every step radiating arrogance. The team lead on the overall product development team. He came to the meeting with his usual sarcasm, and questioned nearly every direction I gave, in front of the entire team.
So I brought The Bitch out. My words biting, I dismissed the rest of the team to begin work, and remained in the conference room with him. "The Fact remains, Mr. McCarty, that we are here, yet again, because your team lacks competence. Whether or not that is because of your resources, or their leadership, remains to be seen, but the customer needs our assistance, and your team HAS to follow my directions. See that they do."
Feeling his eyes go over me from head to toe, his manner intended to intimidate, it took every ounce of my willpower to NOT flush red. He coolly nodded in agreement, and I left him in the conference room and headed to my office, where I'd been ever since.
Undocking my laptop, I slide it into my laptop bag, slip into my coat, collect my keys and purse, and head out, locking the door to my office. Walking out into the parking lot, daylight fading fast, I walk to my car in the nearly empty parking lot. Unlocking the door, I get behind the wheel, put the key in and…nothing. The car won't start.
"You have got to be kidding me!" I exclaim, my head falling to the steering wheel. My stomach was growling, my head was killing me, and I just wanted to go home. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and got out of the car. Flipping through contacts for roadside assistance, I hit call, and the call cut off, the phone display flashing Low Battery. "FUCK!" I swear, nearly kicking the car in sheer frustration, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.
"Are you having an issue, Rosalie?" I jump, startled at the voice behind me, the tone cool and deep, and could only be him.
"This day just gets better and better," I mutter to myself, brushing at my cheek to wipe away the single tear that escaped before turning to face him. "Mr. McCarty." I force a smile on my face, gesturing at the car. "My car won't start, and my cell phone is dead. May I borrow yours to call roadside assistance?"
He looks at me, his expression unreadable, those blue eyes piercing as his gaze goes over me again, and I shiver, closing my arms tightly over myself. A small smirk plays across his lips, and he gives a slight shake of his head. "It's too cold for you to stand out here waiting for them. I'll give you a ride, you can come back for your car tomorrow."
It was cold outside, and I was hungry, and his eyes nearly dared me to say no. With a small nod, I reply, "That would be great, thanks." I turn back to the car to get my purse and laptop, my heart thumping hard in my chest. Facing him again, I followed him over to the obscenely large SUV, where the engine was already running. He opened the door for me to climb in, and as I stepped up into the truck, I felt his hand at the small of my back, guiding me in, causing me to blink in surprise.
Chastising myself for my racing pulse, I peel my gloves off and shove them into my coat pockets, thankful for the warm interior of the car. I glance over as he gets behind the wheel, all 6 foot something, broad-shouldered man. Clearing my throat, I give him a small smile, "Thank you, Mr. McCarty."
He turns to face me full on, those blue eyes on me again, his smile nearly disarming. "We aren't facing off in the boardroom now, Rosalie. Call me Emmett."
My mouth goes dry, so I simply nod.
"Say it." He says softly. "I don't think I have ever heard you say my first name."
My brow furrows slightly at his tone, and his request. "Thank you…Emmett."
I'm rewarded with a smile, and he looks like he wants to say something else, but changes his mind, and shifts the SUV into gear, then pulls out of the parking lot. Riding in silence a few minutes, my hands are twisted nervously in my lap, and I'm incredibly annoyed with myself. I was about to give him my address when he finally speaks. "Your son. Do you need to pick him up?" His fingers tap the steering wheel, my eyes watchful.
"No, Xander is with his dad for the weekend." I answer with a shake of my head, glancing out the window. "Oh, wait, we missed my turn off"
"No, we didn't." Emmett looks at me, his expression changing, but I couldn't put my finger on how. "You're going to have dinner with me. You and I have some shit to set straight."
"What?" turning to look at him in surprise, I quickly protest. "I don't want to have dinner with you. I want to go home."
"And so you will. Eventually." He answered, looking back onto the road, picking up his phone to arrange delivery of Chinese Food to his house.
Wait. His house? No Way in Hell. My pulse roaring in my ears, I sputter in outrage. "I am NOT going to your house, Mr. McCarty. Take me home immediately, or drop me somewhere and I will call a cab."
He turns to me with a cool expression as he pulls his truck into a driveway, leading up to a large house. "No." That's it, just a single word. Pulling into a garage, he cuts the engine, and faces me. "Are you afraid of me, Rosalie?"
My face flushed in anger at his total lack of regard for my request, I face him, my own green eyes sparking. "I am not afraid of you, Mr. McCarty. I don't even LIKE you. Why would I want to have dinner with you?"
"Fine, don't. Ms. Hale. You can wait out here if you like, and I'll take you home after I eat. It's been a long day, and I'm hungry." He gets out of the SUV and closes the door, leaving me staring after him, open-mouthed with shock.
"Is he serious?" I ask aloud, in the dark and empty garage. Silence being my answer. Huffing in annoyance, I open the door, and get out of the SUV, shutting the door harder than necessary, my heels clicking against the concrete of the garage floor as I walk to the door, following him into the house. Walking through a mudroom, into the kitchen, he turns to look at me with a smirk, suit jacket removed, tie loosened.
"I'm glad you changed your mind." He smiles, his hands unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his shirt-sleeves. My eyes are drawn to the muscle in his forearms, which flex as he rolls up his cuffs.
"You didn't really give me much choice, did you?" I ask, my tone icy as I unbutton my coat, my eyes on him as he walks over to me, stepping behind me to help me off with my coat, his large form really close to me. Taking a deep breath, my senses are assaulted by the spicy scent of his cologne. Of him. His thumbs draw down the outside of my arms as he slides the coat down them and then just as quickly steps back.
He drapes my coat over a chair and moves over to lean against the kitchen counter, his eyes. "There is always a choice, Rosalie."
I was getting ready to reply, feeling my face color in frustration when the doorbell rang. Emmett excused himself and left the kitchen, and I could overhear his friendly exchange with the deliveryman. Feeling out of sorts, I pull out a chair and sit down, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt, and wondering why it was that my pulse sped up every time he looked at me.
Watching as he came back into the kitchen with a box full of takeout containers, he sits it on the table and goes to the cabinet to grab plates, and pulls silverware from the drawer. Sitting it on the table, he looks at me. "I have Beer, Wine, pop, or water. What do you want to drink?"
"I'll take a beer, thanks." I answer, pleased to see his face registering his surprise at my choice. He turns away from me and walks over to the refrigerator, then returns with two bottles of beer. I take one, immediately taking a long pull from the bottle, making a pleased sound in my throat at the imported beer. "Thanks."
Nodding, he unpacked the cartons of food from the box, opening each and announcing what it was, and putting some of everything on each plate, and finally handed me a plate heaped high with rice and chinese dishes, and a fork. Frowning slightly as I take the plate, thinking it would have been nice to choose what I wanted, I bite my tongue and set the plate in front of me, and wait for him to take a seat before taking a bite.
Eating in silence, I focus on the plate in front of me so much that when Emmett speaks, it startles me. "You know, you're well respected at the office," he said, leaning back in the chair, studying me as I nearly drop my fork.
Putting my fork down, I pick up my beer and take another drink, laughing dryly. "Right. I'm the Bitch. I know this." Glancing up at him briefly, I shrug. My deep, dark secret being that I absolutely hated having to bring the Bitch out at all, and I hated the perception that went along with it.
"You do play that role well, I have to agree." His candid response stung more than I could ever admit to.
"It doesn't seem like anything gets done if I don't act like a bitch." I shake my head, taking the last drink from the beer bottle, then set the empty bottle on the table. "Compound it with the fact that there are only a few women, in a field dominated by men."
He doesn't respond again, he simply sits there watching me. Quietly, his gaze almost calculating. The longer he watched, the more uncomfortable I became. Finally, I stood up, picked up my plate, and walked over to the trash can in the corner, scraping the contents into the trash. I walk to the sink, rinsing my plate under the faucet and put it in the sink, and turn around, nearly walking straight into Emmett.
"Oh!" I exclaim, coming to an abrupt halt, inches from him. "Sorry. I'd like to go home now." Looking up at him, I am struck by his size, and the near predatory look on his face, and take a quick breath, and a step back.
"I'm not quite ready to take you yet," he replies, advancing a step closer to me.
My eyes meet his, seeing the challenge in his as I automatically take another step back, the counter hitting me in the back when I do. "How tall are you?"
His face registers his surprise at my question. "Six ft. 3in. Why?"
"So I can give an accurate description to the police sketch artist when I go to report you for holding me against my will." my voice is clipped, tense as I reply.
"The phone is on the wall. Call yourself a cab, if you need to run away from me so badly." he taunts.
"Run away?" I scoff, shaking my head. "I'm not run...you know what? I don't owe you anything. I'm not doing this." Squeezing by him, I walk over to where the phone is mounted on the wall.
Picking up the handset, I am getting ready to dial, when suddenly, he is directly behind me, his body against my back. "Put the phone down, Rosalie." His voice was quiet, and had more than a hint of...something. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I simply hung up the phone, and stayed right where I was, my eyes falling closed. "Good girl."
Something shifted inside me at the simple praise, and I feel my knees tremble, all the while warring with conflicting emotions. Summoning up the willpower to speak, I force steel into my voice, my spine going rigid, "I am not your "Girl" Mr. McCarty, and I wish to go home. Immediately."
"Not. Yet. Rosalie." His response was equally as steely, and he stepped forward against me, and before I realized it, I was against the wall, with him at my back.
"What are you doing?" I hiss, turning my head to the side, as he swiftly runs his hands down my arms to my wrists, closes his hands around my wrists and brings both over my head, pinning them against the wall.
Moving closer against my back, I feel his breath, warm against my ear as he whispers, "Giving you what you need."
Gasping audibly, I squirm, feeling his muscular chest against my back, his hands like manacles around my wrists, the wall cool against my front. He shifts behind me, letting me feel his arousal against my lower back, and I squirm harder.
"Be still, Rosalie." He warned, in a tone that harbored no disagreement, and I quivered, and stilled. My chest felt tight, and I fought to take in a breath, but it was not from fear. "Good girl." His voice was a quiet rumble, and I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the cool surface of the wall. "Leave your hands where they are," he instructed, slowly running his hands back down my arms, to my sides, where he paused. "Have I frightened you?"
Keeping my hands flat against the wall over my head, I shiver, a contradiction to the heat running through me. My chest heaves slightly, and I slowly shake my head.
His hands move slightly, around my sides, toward my ribcage. "I need to hear your answer, Rosalie. Are you afraid?"
Swallowing hard, I consider my answer. My body was trembling, I had goosebumps, my pulse was pounding. I speak quietly "No, I'm not afraid of you." The answer was true. I was not afraid...of him. I was not quiet certain what the hell was wrong with me in that moment, which was disconcerting, but I didn't fear him.
"Good," he responded, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice, shaking my head the tiniest bit where it rested against the wall. His hands move again slowly sliding across the silk of my shirt, the flimsy fabric sliding against my skin. "You know what I think?" He skims his hands up my stomach and my rib cage, stopping just shy of my breasts. "I think you are so busy taking care of everyone else, controlling everything in your world, that your needs go unmet."
Need. Now there was a word. His hands moved closer to my breasts just a fraction of an inch, and I could feel my nipples hardening in response. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to take me home.
His hands barely skim the undersides of my breasts before sliding back down my ribcage, and I felt his hand tug my shirt free from the waistband of my skirt, and right as I open my mouth to object, he slides his hands beneath my shirt, his hands warm, as they caress my bare skin, moving up my body to cup my breasts, his thumbs rubbing across my nipples where they poked against the rough lace of the bra. My moan escapes, the sound soft, but needful. "and Yes, Rosalie...you have needs, don't you?" his words whisper across my ear, as he rolls my nipples between his thumb and finger, the lace abrading them, heightening the sensation as my nipples throb, and a feel a twinge of arousal surge through me.
My need warring with my common sense, I bite my lip, pressing my forehead harder against the wall. I shouldn't be letting him do this. I don't even like him. We work together. But...I couldn't seem to speak. Or move. Was I even breathing? My stomach clenches tightly, as desire coils within me.
His right hand releases my breast, and I barely bite back a whimper of protest. His hand slowly slides back down my stomach, and over to my hip, holding it firmly tugging me slightly back against him. I feel his arousal rubbing against me, and moan quietly. He chuckles softly, his hand sliding down my hip to my thigh, tugging my skirt up, sliding his hand beneath it, to run over my stocking clad thigh, and I hear him moan when he reaches the top of the thigh-high, his hand caressing bare skin until reaching the lace of my panties, teasing just beneath the band.
I lower my hands, and his voice is immediately in my ear. "Unless you are telling me to stop, put your hands back against the wall." Dragging a breath into my lungs, I raise my arms again, hands against the wall. He releases my other breast, and slides his other hand down my hip, tugging up my skirt on the other side, that hand following the same path, driving me to distraction by teasing along the leg of my panties, slowing inching closer towards my center. He brings one knee between mine, nudging my legs further apart, and brings one hand up the inside of my thighs, caressing and teasing along the sensitive skin there. My thigh muscles tighten beneath his fingers, trembling as his hand moves closer to the juncture of my thighs.
My hands ball into fists against the wall at the sweet torture of his hands on me. My hips roll back towards him, betraying my desire, and I feel his fingers brush against my panties, which were clinging to me, damp and growing more so as I grew wetter. His other hand grips my hip tighter. "Just as I thought," his chuckle was low against the back of my neck, and I wonder briefly what he meant. His hand moves over my pelvis and slides down inside the front of my panties, the tips of his fingers brushing barely against my moist slit. "So wet, Rosalie." His finger traces down the length of my slit and I fight not to roll my hips against his hand.
He brings his other hand up and brushes my hair off of my neck, over to drape over my right shoulder, and I feel his breath whisper along my neck before his lips press against my nape, his fingers sliding easily between my folds to my center, teasing the opening, before slowly trailing lazy circles around my clit, which was pulsing with need. "God..." I whisper, my eyes tightly closed, my hips rocking towards his hand.
He kisses up the side of my neck, his lips wet and warm, to hover just below my ear, whispering, "God isn't here, Rosalie. It's just you and me." He brushes a fingertip over my clit, just barely skimming over it, and I bite back a whimper. He lips suck gently at the skin beneath my ear, and I feel goosebumps break out when I shiver. His finger circles my clit again before rubbing it, finally, my body tensing as I grow even wetter, feeling my own moisture on my thighs.
His fingers slip down, two sliding inside me, and my walls contract around them immediately, and I moan again when he starts to thrust them in and out. "Christ, you are so tight." His other hand slides beneath my shirt again, tugs the lace cup of my bra down, then rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pinching hard. Crying out in surprise at the sudden sharp pain, I jerk against him, but instead of releasing me, he continues rolling and tugging at my nipple, bringing a warm throb to it.
He curls his fingers inside me, rubbing slowly, and I feel myself get warm, and flushed, as I rock my hips against his hand in earnest. His thumb rubs over my clit again, pressing hard as he rubs, his fingers still rubbing and my entire body goes rigid, my climax hovering. "Let go, Rosalie. Cum for me, beautiful."
Another stroke from his thumb, and pleasure runs through me, white-hot as I do just that, cumming hard. My moans are loud in the room, my legs trembling, barely holding me up as I tighten even further around his fingers, and flatten my hands against the wall. "Oh my god..." My legs nearly buckle, and his hand drops from my breast to my waist, pulling me solidly against him.
"Ride it out," he murmurs in my ear, his fingers rubbing slower as the trembling slows, and I slowly come down, gasping for air, resting against him while I try to gather myself. Pulling his fingers from me slowly, he quietly says, "Good girl," again, and I tremble. Again.
As my body quiets, embarrassment sets in and step forward, and he releases me, letting my skirt fall back down. My hands still against the wall, I lean against them, eyes closed, trying to collect my thoughts, and allow the flush to leave my face.
"Rosalie." He says from behind me.
I hold out one hand, shaking my head, knowing I couldn't speak. Not right now.
I hear footstep then the jingle of car keys. "I'll run you home then, if you're ready."
I simply nod, turning quickly to grab my coat, and I put it on, barely glancing in his direction. Waiting as he opened the door to the garage, I walk to the SUV and quickly get in, fastening my seatbelt, my face still hot with embarrassment. Taking a deep breath to try to calm myself, I close my eyes and let my head rest against the seat when he gets behind the wheel. Hearing him clear his throat as if to speak, I shake my head, and speak coolly, "I don't want to talk about it."
He releases a frustrated sigh, and backs the SUV out of the garage, turning on the stereo to let music mask the awkward silence. The drive to my house seems to take forever, as I curse myself inwardly, even as my body still hummed from my release.
He pulls up into my driveway, and quickly comes around to open my door as I pull my keys from my purse. He takes them from me, and walks up to my front door, opening the door for me, then handing the keys back to me. I look up at him, making eye contact for the first time since the kitchen, my breath catching. His hands grip my elbows and he dips his head, pressing his lips to mine softly, in the barest whisper of a kiss.
"I'll see you on Monday, Rosalie," his voice is rough, as he speaks, then he releases my arms and steps back.
"Yes, Monday." I walk inside and close the door quickly, then lean against it, slowly sliding to the floor.