It’s Just Business

“Tamara,” I muse as she sits across from me at my desk, “have you heard anything about the Faulkners?”

“You mean like have there been any declarations of blood vendettas or swearing that you’re going to have your head mounted on a flagpole outside the Faulkner Building?” she asks wryly, her eyes never lifting from the tablet in her lap. When I don’t answer, she glances up. “Nothing more than usual. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just… curious,” I reply, and Tamara slides her glasses down her nose to peer at me pointedly. “What?” I ask.

“Mr. Sharpe, you have me in this position because I do good work,” she says, which is an understatement. Tamara’s worth twice the money I pay her, and she’s already compensated at a rate higher than anyone else in an equivalent position in the Financial District. I know this because she knows this, and whenever she’s come to me with a request for a pay raise, I sign off on it without question.

“You do good work. I would agree.”

“I’m able to do that because you keep me in the loop on things,” Tamara continues, “and in the years we’ve been working together, you’ve rarely kept me out of the loop without good reason.”

“That you know of,” I counter.

Tamara snorts. “Mr. Sharpe, there’s three kinds of secrets in this company. There’s secrets that you and I keep. There’s secrets I keep. And there are secrets you think you keep. And when you’ve ‘kept’ information from me…” She pauses, doing tiny air quotes around ‘kept’ to let me know that it’s in appearance only. “I’ve trusted your decision making. I understand why you’ve done it, usually for my own plausible deniability.”

“I’m not going to hang you out to dry,” I point out.

“But you don’t need to hang out there alone, either,” she says, her tone lowering. “Look, Mr. Sharpe. Truth is, I haven’t heard anything through my network about you, at least in the past few weeks.”

“The past few weeks?” I ask, and she nods. “Before that?”

“Mr. Sharpe, it’s not my place to say, but your hiring of Miss Hill so soon after the charity event? With what I heard?” She tilts her head, giving me what I suspect is akin to her Disappointed Mother look. It’s weak at best, given her daughter is a good kid who needs little correction.

“I see,” I say flatly, warning her.

Tamara likely thinks I have a blind spot where Raven is concerned and that the rumors she heard are the only reason I hired Raven. If that’s the case, she’s dead wrong. She may even wonder if, like many other men in positions of power, I’m getting played by a younger, pretty woman who sees me as a shortcut to Easy Street. She’d be wrong there too.

Tamara can read my face, and she rushes to reassure me that my concerns are unwarranted. “You have never, and I truly mean never, given me reason to question one of your business decisions,” she says. “You might have had ulterior reasons for hiring Miss Hill. But I’ve heard the talk around the office about her being some sort of investment phenom, and I’ve seen her work and how she works with people in the office. She seems to be a good fit here. The research she was assigned…”

I nod, and she continues, “Her report hit my inbox this morning. In my opinion, it was excellent. In two and a half days, she produced work that we expect a freshman hire to take a week or more to complete. I’ve only known a handful of people who can produce quality work as quickly, and I’m sitting in the room with one of them.”

“Why, thank you.” I keep my tone tamed, although her decision to question Miss Hill’s presence has me on edge.

Tamara and I have a professionally interwoven relationship based on keeping the firm afloat and steering toward the best heading. We don’t often give each other compliments or atta-boys. Neither of us is accustomed to them or comfortable with it. But I do appreciate it this time… so long as it’s followed by leaving Raven alone.

“Word is, she’s making you money nearly hand over fist, putting pressure on more senior investors to improve their margins,” Tamara says. “Her resume had no fluff, her references are impressive, and she seems to have found a place without ruffling too many feathers, which is a delicate balance with finance types.”

I chuckle, acknowledging that ‘finance bro’ is a stereotype for a reason. We’re not all ambitious, greedy, numbers types with egos the size of a BMW, but it’s also, sadly, not too far off.

“So, do you think I should give her more responsibilities?” I ask. “If she’s this good.”

Tamara sits back, tapping the edge of her tablet as she thinks. “My father,” she says, “is a baseball fan. Loves the game, loves the complexities of it. He gets into the layers of management, the farm system teams have, the stats, all of it. He would talk your ear off if you’d give him half a chance, but what I remember most was his uncanny ability to tell when a pitcher had been brought up from the minors too quickly. He didn’t even need to look at the game. He’d tell me beforehand. ‘Kid’s gonna have a rough day’ or ‘he needs more seasoning.’ Like a pitcher was a steak or something. I didn’t understand then, but I do now.”

“You think Raven needs more seasoning,” I note, and Tamara shrugs. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that if you just want someone who’s going to make you a ton of money, I’d say step things up,” Tamara explains. “Use her talents to pad your bottom line as aggressively as possible before someone else snatches her away.”

I frown at that, thinking no one is taking Raven anywhere, much less away from me or my firm. Tamara smiles as though I’ve let her into my thoughts unwittingly.

“However, if you want what I suspect you do, you may want to make sure Miss Hill has time to learn, grow, and truly be prepared for what’s ahead… when and if things change.”

“And what do you suspect I want?” I can barely get the question out before another comes, “and exactly what do you think is going to change?”

“That, Mr. Sharpe, is something I can’t answer for you,” Tamara says as she closes the cover over her tablet and stands up. “I’ll get these reports ready for you by tomorrow morning. If that’ll be all?”

I nod, and Tamara leaves. Rather than giving me answers, she’s left me with a mind filled with questions.

What is it I want from Raven Hill?

After this weekend, an explanation, perhaps.

I’d spoken to her at McGinty’s on Friday, keeping things surface-level and then moving away to speak with another group. Later, when I scanned the bar, I discovered she’d left without a word. I was worried until Hector had climbed on the stage for a bit of impromptu karaoke, dedicating his song to the company newcomers and mentioning that Raven had headed home early and would miss his much-anticipated return to the spotlight. I’d been disappointed because while we hadn’t had plans, exactly, I’d hoped to see her after the get-together. Not a text. Not a word from her. It was unexpected.

And then, the last two days were essentially hell. I didn’t hear from her at all apart from one-word answers and ‘I can’t. I’m busy.’, and I had been on the edge of showing up at her apartment.

She’s felt off. Like something happened, although I can’t imagine what.

The only thing that stopped me was the recognition that my control where she is concerned is no longer slipping. Any semblance of control has slipped completely out of my reach, and that is unfamiliar territory.

So, I waited, using the weekend to turn her behavior, and my own, over and over again in my mind, all the while, wondering why I was concerned with her when she didn’t appear to be interested. My thumb rubs against the pad of my pointer as I remind myself. It’s business. And I’m Dylan Sharpe. I don’t chase anyone. Although, for an answer… I’ll allow it.

Glancing at the clock, I see that I only have a little longer to wait until I get my answer. Because right at six, I hear her high heels and their muffled click on the floor of the carpet of my outer office.

At this point, I know exactly what Raven’s footsteps sound like. The rhythm, the weight, the way her right leg hits the floor just a little bit harder than her left, and how my cock’s already stiffening in my pants as she opens the door to my office and stands there, looking at me.

“Mr. Sharpe.”

There’s no reply from me. I simply get up out of my chair and cross the room, stalking toward her like I’m starved. She retreats, looking at me with her beautiful eyes, half shock and half… desire.

She’s missed my touch as much as I’ve missed hers, which tempers my approach the slightest bit. “Where were you this weekend?”

“I… I…“ Her eyes widen, her breath coming in short pants.

I was wrong. I don’t want answers or an explanation. I want to punish her for ruining my weekend, for taking control of my mind and distracting me. I was worried about her, desperate for her while she was out doing God knows what with God knows who, and I was a mess, thinking of nothing but her.

The fuck did this woman do to me?

I close the door, turning the lock manually. I push Raven up against the wall, roughly lifting her chin with my thumb running along her lower lip. Her eyes flare. “I’m sorry.”

I cut off her words with a hard kiss, my lips bruising against hers as I claim her. As she kisses me back, her hands grip my jacket and she pulls me closer.

“Uh-uh, Darling,” I growl, pressing her harder against the wall. “You aren’t in charge this time.”

She nods, gasping when I nip at her neck and then breathily moaning, “Yes!”

“Good girl,” I whisper, and she shivers. “Are you my good girl?”

I’m too far gone to build her up to the depravity running through my body, demanding to be unleashed on Raven.

“I… I am,” she rasps, crying out as I pull her skirt up and unceremoniously cup her mound. “Oh, fuck, Dylan.”

“You’re going to be,” I tell her, stroking her through her panties and feeling her arousal begin to coat the fabric. “I’m going to punish you for leaving me wanting this weekend.” I swat her clit with my fingers. “For not speaking with me all damn weekend.” Another swat, and she swallows, fighting for air. She shudders, her legs trying to give out, but I hold her in place, pinned to the wall with my other hand wrapped around her hip.

She tries to speak, but I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Maybe later after I’ve had my fill of her, marked her, and made her understand that this can’t happen again. What she does to me… how she makes me question things… I can listen. But now…

“I’m going to fuck you hard, Darling, and you’re going to take every bit of it the way a good slut does. Understood?” I stroke up the indented slit of her satin panties, finding her already-swollen clit and circling it until her fabric’s soaked and her hips buck against my thumb.

“Oh, God, Dylan,” she pants. “I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’ll be in a few seconds,” I promise her before I kiss her again, strumming three fingers against her clit. She cries out, pushed to her edge too quickly. She writhes against my hand, finding her release. She’s fucking gorgeous, the flush of red that moves from her chest to her cheeks and the lust that shines back in her eyes. I swallow her cries, gripping her throat ever so slightly to muffle her, and it stretches the wave out, another round of spasms racking through her.

She looks up at me with hazy eyes, her mouth dropped open as she starts to smile like she thinks that’s it. A dark chuckle passes over my lips, landing on the sensitive outer shell of her ear. “We’re not done. We’ve barely started.”

I step back, pushing her to her knees and wrapping a fistful of her hair in my right hand. “Now,” I command, “open your mouth like a good girl. We’re going to do something… intense.”

She licks her lips, obeying even as she asks, “What?”

“You are mine, Miss Hill, so I’m going to have all of you,” I whisper. “Including that sweet, perfect ass of yours. It’s mine.” She whimpers at my feet, and the small shred of decency remaining in my soul pauses. “Have you ever…?”

She shakes her head, but she stares up at me with desire. “I’ve had toys there.”

My cock jumps at the idea of Raven with a plug in her ass. I bet that’s a beautiful sight to see. “And did you come from them, Darling?” I demand. “Did you like it?”

“The first time… no,” she confides. “But when I figured out what to do…”

Her voice fades, and I pause, lifting her chin to look me in the eye. “I know what to do,” I promise her. “And if you can’t, you tell me.”

Still, her hands tremble when she pulls my cock out, and I seize them, shaking my head. “Your hands are for your beautiful tits and for rubbing your pussy,” I command her. “Twist them, tweak them, make yourself come as you swallow every inch of me.”

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes flash, letting me know that while I’m in control here, it’s because she’s allowing it. She knows exactly how to punish me too.

She wiggles her skirt even higher, to where it’s no more than fabric gathered at her waist, and then undoes the pretty purple blouse she’s wearing, taking her time as she frees the gorgeous curves of her breasts from the prison of her lacy bra. All the while, heat races through my veins. Fuck, I need her. The dim light of the city behind us curves around her face and her breasts. Just the sight of them makes my dick twitch. Her eyes go to my cock as she smiles softly, pleased with the unconscious reaction she brought forth in me. She leans forward with her tongue out and takes in just the tip.

Fuck me. I plant a palm on the wall to brace myself and close my eyes, stifling a groan.

Her tongue is wicked, circling the head of my cock, tasting me hungrily, and coating me. I watch, entranced by the way she works me while simultaneously toying with her nipples. Such a good multi-tasker, I think, wondering what else she can do.

Fresh precum is already leaking from my cock as she sucks, and I push more into her warm mouth, watching as inch after inch disappears between her plump, sexy red lips.

“That’s it, take it all,” I murmur as her cheeks hollow. Fucking gorgeous, the sight of her on her knees. She’s so tight, her lips a ring around my shaft as she takes more and more. I reach the back of her throat, but she doesn’t stop, sucking me in until her nose is buried against my body and her eyes brim with tears. She tries to pull back reflexively but forces herself to choke on my cock.

“Relax, breathe through your nose.” I can feel the moment she relaxes, getting much-needed oxygen, and I smile, proud of her. “Good girl.”

I pull back, letting her breathe freely, and she gasps as she looks up at me. Lower, I can see her hips bucking as she cups her pussy again, tugging her panties to the side. “Dylan… please…”

“Finger fuck yourself,” I command. “In time with my cock in your mouth.”

She rushes to comply, slipping two fingers inside her as I take her mouth again, this time not letting go of my control. As good as her mouth is, I resist the urge to let her bring me to the point of orgasm and instead punish her, thrusting in and out of her vacuumed lips and hollowed cheeks.

The vibration of her strangled cry as she rubs her clit has me on edge, but the thought of what’s to come still holds me back. Instead, I tighten my grip in her hair, pumping in and out of her mouth until tears roll down her beautiful cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara behind and making her a mess.

Her tenuous grip on the edge slips away and she comes again, her body trembling and her moan muffled from my cock. The vibrations of it and the sheer sight of her are nearly my undoing. I pull out and I bend down, growling in her ear. “Does my good girl need more?” An answering shudder runs through her as she stares up at me with wide, wanting eyes.

I scoop her up, carrying her over to my couch and laying her on the leather surface. “Remember,” I tell her as I push her skirt up higher and pull her panties down and off her long legs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Mmmhmm,” she vows in a hesitant murmur. Her body still trembles from her orgasm, and I don’t wait for the pleasure to settle.

Reaching up, I pull down my tie, loosening it before I rip it off and then unbutton my shirt before giving up and just shoving it out of the way to return my efforts to Raven. I push her back more and more until the sexy, obscene sight of her wet, gleaming pussy is fully exposed for my hungry eyes. I lean down, licking a sweeping, swerving line from her clit to the pucker of her ass, and she clenches.

I swallow, forcing myself to slow down because what’s about to happen is momentous and maybe even more than she can handle.

I go back to my desk and open a locked drawer. I put a supply of condoms and lube there for us, although we don’t use lubricant very often. When I return, I kneel between her outstretched legs, kissing the insides of her thighs. The silk of her stockings rasps against my five o’clock shadow, only disappearing when I reach the even softer skin of her body.

Even as mad as I’ve been, the sight of Raven’s face, her gorgeous green eyes wide and her pussy clenching above the pink curve of her ass, is heart stopping. Gently, I lean in, kissing her pussy lips softly before gathering a tongue full of her honey to savor her flavor.

She’s intoxicating. She’s addicting. She might be my ultimate ruin, but in this moment, I don’t care. I’m hers, and I’m going to make sure she knows that she is mine. Which means she can’t disappear on me for days on end. I won’t allow it. I can’t withstand it.

Every swipe of my tongue is bliss for the both of us, Raven’s stomach clenching every time I dance over her clit and my cock leaking steadily as I devour her. But eventually, I go even lower, my breath tickling her back entrance. Holding her cheeks apart with my thumbs, I reach out with my tongue and press against her ass… testing her reaction.

Raven sighs in pleasure, her hips squirming, not to get away, but for more. She attempts to grip the sofa and slips, repositioning herself and breathing heavily. Her chest rises and falls as she settles in and rocks herself against me.

“That’s it,” I reply, gripping her ass cheeks sharply as I pull her open even more so I can lick her again. She whimpers, a flush coming to her cheeks as I start lathering and pressing on her asshole with my tongue. Her pussy is wet with her arousal, her breath catching again and again as I find the pressure, the wetness, and the stroke that makes her relax, to give in to my touch fully.

Uncapping the lube and squirting a dollop onto my fingers, I pull back, replacing my tongue with the lubricant. Pressing in slowly with a single finger, I talk her through the initial shock. “Breathe now… just breathe… there you go, Darling…”

My finger slips into Raven’s ass, and she moans, her eyes opening wide as I gently massage and stretch her. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

“Stroke your clit. I’m adding more,” I warn her, and she rushes to stroke her clit as I press in with another finger. It’s harder this time, but easier than I feared. In moments, I’m finger fucking her delectable ass with two fingers as she rubs her clit, her eyes rolling in their sockets as the twin sensations course through her body. I can feel her ring clamping and relaxing around my fingers, wanting more, and I withdraw, looking into her eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Dylan,” she promises me, and I skin myself, covering the condom in a generous amount of lube before pressing against her. She bites her lip, holding back a groan as I press harder, the head of my cock stretching her even more than my fingers. Raven responds by stroking her clit even harder, whimpering softly as I push past her resistance. With an inaudible Pop that shakes us both, I enter her, and we pause, our eyes locked.

“Holy fuck,” she whispers, letting her head fall forward and her lips making a perfect ‘O’ as I rock in slightly.

Her reaction is adorably sexy, and I have to restrain myself from giving her too much, too soon. This will take time, both of us needing to ease into it.

Hell, I can barely breathe as my pulse races.

“God, you feel so fucking good, so tight,” I tell her, holding still. Reaching up, I stroke her nipples, and she relaxes as her body adjusts.

I pull out slowly and press in faster, pacing myself and reaching in front of her to play with her clit myself. I need her to fucking love this. To love everything I give her.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

An asymmetrical grin pulls at my lips as I remember, I’m her first. No man has ever fucked her like this.

“That’s my good girl,” I murmur by her ear and then kiss the crook of her neck, giving her more and more, faster and harder with every passing thrust. “Come on me, Darling. Come with my cock in your ass.” It’s an open-ended order. I want her to come as many times as possible. Punishment by pleasure might be my new corporate motto, but only for her. Only for Raven.

I put my hand around her neck. I don’t squeeze, but I do hold her down as I thoroughly, deeply ass fuck Raven, thrusting in and out hard enough to make my sofa shake and the frame groan in time with my hips.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl,” I grunt as her ring tightens perfectly around my shaft. Another small orgasm runs through her, and I’m on the edge, but I hold back by sheer force of will.

“Please, Dylan, I need it,” she pleads, and I speed up, my hips slapping against her spread open, violated ass. As she starts quivering, I give myself over to the flood rising within me.

My climax hits hard, making the whole world go silent and fall into a blur. And then she comes.

Raven tosses her head from side to side, her mouth wide open as she scrabbles to grab something. She finds the edge of the couch and grips it with one hand, her other going to cover her own mouth to muffle her cries of ecstasy.

Panting, spent, I slowly let her down onto the cushion as her high eases and we both catch our breaths. I run my fingertips down her throat, then lower, circle one nipple and then the other, and trace down her belly to right above her clit. She moans, unable to take more, but that’s not what this is. I simply need to touch her, feel her, to have her at my mercy.

There were times this weekend when I thought I’d built this thing between us up in my head. It’s stupid, I know, but there’s a scar deep inside me that started whispering in my head late at night when I was wondering where Raven was and why she wasn’t right there with me.

“Where were you?” I ask again, the vehemence fucked out of the words, exposing the hurt lurking behind them.

“Home, just home all weekend. Working on the side project and hanging with Maggie and Ami.”

Staring at her, I search her eyes for any sign of dishonesty, any shred of deception. I wish I didn’t feel this way, this fucking insecurity. Hiding her and keeping her a secret doesn’t help. I don’t fucking like it.

“I missed you too,” she adds in my silence, and then my beautiful Raven smiles before letting her head fall back.

I believe her. She’s too vulnerable at this moment, her defenses down after what we just did. Plus, I don’t think Raven has the deep ugliness it’d take to lie to me.

I’ve been wrong about that before… and I haven’t forgotten.

I move to get up, and she squirms before settling uncomfortably on the couch while I go over to my washroom to get a warm cloth to clean us up. Gently, I clean her ass before getting rid of it and the condom. When I come back, she’s adjusted her skirt, pulling it back down before putting her breasts back into the cups of her bra and buttoning up.

Her chest still rises and falls like she’s catching her breath, and her eyes close as she hums softly. Fucking beautiful. Raven Hill is so damn beautiful.

I do the same as her, zipping up my slacks and rebuttoning my shirt. It feels like putting up walls between us. Maybe I should’ve asked these questions while I had her beneath me?

“Why?”

“What?” she asks innocently, but her eyes flash and I know she knows what I mean.

“This weekend was different. What happened?” I press.

She starts to shake her head, and I stop her. “Just tell me, Raven. I don’t have time for games.”

Tears appear at the corners of her eyes, and I fear the worst. She’s figured out that I’m a bastard whose only real value is in his bank account, so she’s leaving me. It’s not the most rational reaction, but it’s also not illogical considering it’s mostly true.

“At the bar on Friday,” she starts, and my stomach drops. I was right. Something happened. I’m silent as she continues, “I was having a great time. I felt like everything I dreamed of was finally right in the palms of my hands. The job, the guy, the friends, the future… all of it.” She holds her hands in front of her symbolically, staring at their emptiness but obviously seeing much more.

I can hear it coming. “But?”

“But then, I was talking to Shanna and she said…” She takes a steadying breath, “That she thought I was the girl getting ‘Sharped’.” My brow furrows in confusion because I don’t know what the hell that means, and she huffs in exasperation. “Don’t you see? They all know. I thought I’d gotten away from the rumors after the fundraiser when no one here mentioned them. I thought the friendships I was building were real. But they’re talking about us, about me. They might not know for sure, but they suspect. And I don’t want to be Dylan Sharpe’s ladder-climbing slut.”

Anger grows in my chest at her calling herself that because it is nothing like when we say it while fucking. She’s insulting herself, and I won’t stand for anyone putting her down, not even Raven herself.

She holds up a hand, telling me that’s not the point with a roll of her eyes. “I told you before we started this. I want to earn my way through my business skills. I don’t want people thinking I did it through my oral skills.”

“You’re better than that. You know it and I know it, so don’t reduce everything you’ve accomplished down to that.”

“What about everyone else?” she asks, fire in her eyes as she throws an arm toward the door, indicating the rest of the company. Or maybe the whole fucking Financial District.

“One, who the fuck cares what they think,” I snap, not giving two shits what my employees or anyone else think of my personal life. “Two, Tamara says they’re calling you some sort of investment phenom.”

She pales, the compliment not even landing in her hyperfocus on what I said first. “I care,” she cries, clutching her chest. “I fucking care.”

I freeze. All weekend, I’ve been in my own head, torturing myself with thoughts of how Raven is leaving me.

The truth is… her hesitation is not with me, but with herself. She’s young and hungry, the same way I once was, and feels the need to prove herself, something I can understand more than most. Honestly, it’s something I appreciate about her. She doesn’t want an easy way up or a shortcut.

But where does that leave us?

Because this is happening. I can’t let her go. I won’t wait for her to make a name for herself and then come back to me. I’m too selfish for that. But she needs to do things her way or she won’t have faith in herself the way I have faith in her.

She looks up at me with wide tear-brimmed eyes. “I care,” she says again in a harsh whisper.

I gather her into my arms, cradling her head against my chest. “I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry too. I was miserable all weekend without you, so I poured everything I had into that report.”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “I haven’t read it yet, but I hear it’s some of the best work Tamara’s seen, other than my own, of course.”

Raven sniffles, looking up at me hopefully. “Really?”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “Really, Miss Hill. Good work.”