TWENTY-TWO
The private Elevator shut after they both slipped in. Ryan's eyes were on Claire, devouring her quietly.
"What?" Claire breathed, her chest rising and falling as she couldn't understand the caprice of her hormones.
Why was she feeling like a little prey waiting to be pounced on? Desire pooled inside her; she wanted him to grab her, kiss her, and feel all the fireworks he made her feel. She'd missed him.
And Ryan wasn’t indifferent.
There was something he couldn’t put his finger on whenever he was with her. If it was desire, then it was stronger than he’d ever felt toward a woman before.
"Oh fuck!" Ryan wasted no time as he hauled her toward the wall, gripping her throat, and his mouth was holding hers captive.
His bag was on the floor, followed by Claire's wallet.
He was impatient. He kissed her hard, demandingly, roughly, squeezing her breasts, her buttocks, yanking her dress to her waist. Claire loved it. That fire he ignited made her feel alive. She let him assault her, relishing every kiss, touch, and bite.
His finger eased inside her pantie, and she moaned as he rubbed her most feminine core, arousing her further. Damn! She shut her eyes, her lips busy mingling with his.
"Ryan . . .” She was panting heavily, watching his lustful gaze as they eyed one another. "I missed you," she uttered, holding his face quickly, hungry to feel him.
"I missed you more, baby. Fuck I want you, Claire. Now. Right here!" Ryan groaned, his voice hoarse, intoxicated, and the next thing Claire felt was her face against the wall, her waist bending slightly.
"Oh God," she moaned, Ryan’s finger inside her sex.
"Yes, baby." He was unzipping his fly, just a little space to free his already hard erection. "I'm taking you from behind, Claire. You look so good this way," he muttered, messing with her hair after a swift kiss.
"Yes, please," Claire murmured, her breath sound and ragged. "Fuck me, Ryan," she begged and he briskly pounced inside her.
"Argh!" he groaned, stilling onto her, filling her slowly. "I love how I feel inside you, Claire. You're perfect, baby." He took a deep breath, and she held hers, waiting taciturn. Slowly Ryan eased out, and then pounced back in.
"Ah!" Claire cried, feeling his resplendent length deep inside her sex. Holding her steady, Ryan began thrusting her, in and out, faster and faster, again and again, driving her crazy.
It was sweet, sexy, the longing adding pretty much to it. Why was this so right? Claire felt it was, so did Ryan. They were perfect, moving in synergy, rasping and crying with pleasure.
The elevator came to a halt as he came loudly, hugging her tight. They stilled for a good while, breathing soundly, their bodies locked physically and spiritually. It felt ethereal.
"What are you doing to me, Ryan?" Claire muttered, dropping her head tiredly on his shoulder, sweating.
"Exactly what you're doing to me, Claire." Ryan kissed her neck gently. "I can't stay away from you. I go nuts when I try." He chuckled.
"You're already nuts, though." Claire chuckled along. "What do I do with you? With us both? We're both nuts, Ryan."
"Don't do anything. Let's get you out of this elevator and give you what you deserve." Ryan pulled back and zipped up his pants.
“What I deserve?” Claire flushed as she turned around to face him.
Ryan grinned. "Yeah? You didn't come and I'm not selfish, baby. I love hearing you screaming my name when you come for me." He picked the bag and grabbed her hand, smiling seductively. "Where should I fuck you next, huh? In the bedroom or here in the living room? Or when we shower later?" he cajoled her.
Damn him! Why was he talking of sex as if he was addressing something mundane? Claire scowled.
"Stop being silly, Ryan. I'm not doing it again," she said, flushing.
"I know," Ryan returned, laughing gently. "I know you prefer surprise treats and instead planned ones. Now, have you had dinner?" He was back to serious.
"Um, no?" Claire shrugged.
"You need to be punished," he muttered, his voice unlighted. He threw the bag on the couch. "You were drinking with an empty stomach, Claire. What the fuck!" He glared at her.
Oh boy? Back into Daddy Ryan? Claire rolled her eyes mentally.
"Well . . . I wasn't feeling like eating," she muttered, ignoring his usual scolding.
"What a sleazy excuse. Come, let's see what we can do about that," said Ryan and both headed towards the kitchen.
As always, the kitchen was neat and smelled a smooth scent of lime . . . or lemon? Claire couldn't differentiate the two. The fruit basket was full, the snack cabinets, too. And even the fridge when Ryan opened it to check if there was anything decent to eat.
"How do you have so many groceries when you were away for a week?" Claire was surprised, but she suddenly got a hint. Silly her! "Oh, does she drop by to do the chores?" she quizzed.
"Who?" Ryan prompted while rummaging through the cabinets.
"Who else? Your girlfriend?" Claire took a seat.
"She can't do that," Ryan replied frankly, frowning a bit.
Really now? Claire smirked. "Why can't she?" she asked.
"Because she doesn't have access to my house," Ryan answered curtly. He was holding a jam, butter and bread. "Breakfast for dinner, do you mind?" he asked, his smile hopeful.
"She doesn't have access? But why?" Ignoring his final remark, Claire stuck to the first question.
"Damn it, Claire! Can you please stop talking about Doris? She doesn't have access to my house because I don't want anyone to have it!" Ryan lashed furiously, his eyes dark. "The only person who has it is the one who cleans, buys the fucking groceries, and cooks sometimes. Now, is that enough for an explanation?"
"Okay, I get it! You don't need to shout!" Claire spat.
Ryan sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Claire. I didn't mean to yell." He strode towards her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he breathed
"You always yell at me," Claire uttered, her voice as soft as a little girl's. "I hate it." She was melting in his big arms.
"You're just so fucking annoying, that's why I yell sometimes." He glanced tenderly at her, and a smile crossed his face at the sight of her pursed lips. "You know what? I think I better tell you this because I can't drag it any—"
"I'm going to use the bathroom, Ryan. I want to pee," Claire urged.
"Oh, okay." Ryan let her go.
The bathroom was in cream and gold furnishing, quite clean and well-kept.
"What's wrong with you, Claire? You knew where you're getting yourself into, so then why does it bother you now, huh?" She took a deep sigh while eyeing the mirror, unable to understand this change in her feelings toward Ryan each new day.
Back in the kitchen, Claire found Ryan busy with dinner setting. A plate of well-cut sandwiches was on the breakfast table, and some scrambled eggs were just poured out of the skillet, and the aroma was inviting.
Oh, she loved watching him cooking.
"A sandwich?" Ryan asked upon seeing her.
"Hmm, it looks delicious." She smiled while marching closer.
"Sit down," Ryan instructed.
"Thanks." She grinned. It's these little displays of affection that stopped her from leaving, right? Claire wondered, putting away the great sex of her life he constantly made her taste. "Hmm, yummy!" She was chewing greedily after a bite.
She was very hungry, and Ryan seemed pleased that she was.
"What a food monger," he uttered in a low voice, smiling.
"I heard that. Aren't you the same? Look at us, eating in the middle of the night," Claire said, causing scattered chuckles in the air.
"I know, right?" Ryan poured her a glass of cold juice.
"I love Guava juice. It is my favorite, " Claire said, taking a small sip.
"What a coincidence! I love it, too." He was applying some mayonnaise into his sandwich.
"Do you like that thing?" Claire asked with disgust.
"Of course. I love my sandwich with mayonnaise." Ryan said.
"I hate the sight of it!" Claire grimaced.
"Why? Does it remind you of something?" Ryan teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
"Not really, it's just—" Frowning, Claire stopped when she realized the meaning behind his stupid remark. "You're so vulgar, you know. How dirty!" She nudged him.
They both started laughing.
"I'm just trying to understand our differences here," Ryan uttered, having some eggs. Claire rolled her eyes. "Anyways, I believe there must be some things we have in common."
"Okay, let's try this," Claire said suggestively. "Fried chicken or steak?" she asked.
"Steak," Ryan answered, grinning.
"I love chicken," she uttered, and he laughed softly. "Winter or summer?"
"Um . . . Summer," Ryan replied curtly. "Why would I want too much cold?" He bit his sandwich.
"I love winter, because it's good for cuddling," Claire said dreamily. Ryan wrenched an eyebrow at that. "Okay let's see, the best vacation spot: beach or the countryside?"
After a little thinking, Ryan said, "A beach I guess."
"I love a cool country side, with large trees, and maybe a river? But I love beaches, too. Well, anywhere is fine for me," Claire said calmly.
"Well, black or white?" She looked up at him, smiling.
"Black," Ryan answered.
"Ugh, so typical of you," Claire muttered. "Truth or dare?"
"God!" Ryan laughed aloud. "Dare."
"I dare you to carry me to the bedroom, and sleep with your hands off of me tonight," Claire stipulated.
"Piece of cake!" Ryan said confidently. "But can you?"
What the fuck! Of course she could do it.
"We'll see about that, Ryan, we'll see." She smiled. "About our differences, I give up. We're like north and south."
"That's the point, Claire. Unlike charges attract," Ryan remarked, amusement patent in his voice. "Oh, by the way, I'll be having dinner at home this weekend. And I want to be the first one to invite you over. Will you come with me?"
"At home—you mean at your grandpa's?" Claire asked. He nodded affirmatively. "Um . . . Sure. But why? What's the occasion?" She was curious.
"Nothing grand. It's some kind of family tradition that we all have dinner together at the end of the month. Our mother started it, some years ago, and grandfather won't let it die," Ryan explained.
He made it sound like an obligation, but Claire liked it.
"Okay, invitation accepted," Claire acquiesced.
"Wow, you're so cooperative today. What's going on?" Ryan teased, seeing how agreeable she had been for a change.
"Maybe because you've rested being a jerk for once? But don't push it, Ryan, I may start to rebel." Claire said, and there started the bickering.
After dinner and shower they retired to bed. It was past midnight and evidently exhaustion was part of both of them.
Ryan flicked the lights off. "You looked sexy in that red dress," he said while laying down.
"So I've heard," Claire bragged, "from two guys, excluding you." She grinned at him.
Ryan glowered at her through the luminous mood outside. "Oh yeah? And you must be very happy, huh?" Sarcasm splattered on his displeased face.
"Of course, I am! Who wouldn't be?" Claire smiled, provoking him.
Ryan sighed heavily. "I'll let it slide this time." He drew back onto the pillow. "But don't you ever dress like that when I'm not with you, get it?"
There was a crazy part of Claire that loved his controlling nature. She had no idea why but it stirred her up in some strange ways, and even more from the fact that she would object to him whenever he played bossy.
"Says who? I can wear whatever I want . . . and whenever," she argued.
"Okay, pray that I don't catch you," Ryan muttered. "Because if I do—"
"What? What will you do, huh?" Claire jumped atop him, swiftly. She leaned down toward his face. "Will you punish me with your kisses? Or lock me up in this castle?"
Ryan smirked, biting the corner of his mouth. "You're really looking for trouble, aren't you?" he breathed huskily.
"Am I?" Claire quipped, softly grinding her behind on him.
"Don't provoke me, Claire. I'm not sure if I can resist the temptation, so let's try to sleep quietly. I have a meeting in the morning, and I'm damn tired."
"How about a goodnight kiss?" She gently pressed her lips on his, and his arms slipped around her waist in similar fashion.
Their kiss was very slow, accurate, and intense. It was enticing.
"Damn," Ryan grunted suddenly and tried to move.
"I thought we had an agreement, sir. Just a kiss, remember? Goodnight." She whispered, and pulled herself away from his arms.
"Really? Are you playing hard to get now?" Ryan lamented, panting.
Claire chuckled. "There's always next time, Ryan. You have a meeting tomorrow, and I need to visit the construction site "
"Good. We'll go together then, because I need to see how the work is proceeding." He dropped back.
"Okay, let's do it," Claire relented, "so that everyone can know I'm sleeping with the big boss."
"No one will know, but it doesn't sound bad either." Ryan smirked.
"Jerk!" Claire giggled.
"A handsome jerk?" He grinned.
"An evil jerk." She shifted to his side and lied down. "Tell me about your trip. Why did you go to Havana for one whole week?"
"Well . . ." Ryan started telling her of it until they both fell asleep in each other's arms.
Next day, around nine in the morning, Claire woke up and sadly the house owner was nowhere to be seen. Just great! She yawned, stretching. Tiredly, she clambered out of bed so as to get herself ready. That's when she found a note on the bedside table and read it.
Hey beautiful,
I had to leave early because of a meeting, and I didn't want to wake you. I'm not sure when I'll come back, but you're not a prisoner. You can leave anytime you want using the door; and if you prefer our elevator, the pass code is . . .
Later, R.
What a great way to begin her morning! Blushing, with butterflies dancing gleefully in her stomach, Claire gave Ryan a call.
"Hi, there. Am I interrupting?" she said softly.
"No, I'm glad you called," replied Ryan. "Are you still at home?"
"You mean, your home?" she corrected.
"Our home." Ryan's voice was gentle and teasing.
"Stop it, Ryan. It's not funny." Claire headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for work.
"I'm not being funny, though. It was just an apartment a few days ago, and now it feels like home," Ryan said. Claire held her tongue. "Okay, forget what I said. So are you going to the site?"
"Yes, but after I go home and change," she answered, her feeling unfathomable after his comment.
"Oh, I forgot you were wearing a disturbing dress last night. Well you can drive yourself home; there's a car key where you found the note," Ryan instructed.
Oh? Claire flushed. "I don't have a license," she muttered while grabbing a toothbrush, her eyes on the mirror.
What a sight! Messy hair, glowing skin, a happy smile. It was worth it.
Ryan gasped. "Seriously, Claire? What are you? A cave woman?"
"Thanks a lot for insulting me." She grinned, squirting some toothpaste, her phone between her ear and shoulder.
"Oh please, don't give me that! Get yourself a license, will you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Don't call me Sir!" he barked, and it was enough to make her laugh.
She started brushing her teeth after saying, "Don't worry, Ryan, I'll just grab a taxi outside."
"I don't like that," replied Ryan, deadpan.
"Well, bear with it." She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for giving me the password, I'm honored."
"Oh, you should be."
"You just can't be modest, can you? Well, I'm hanging up. Have a nice day."
"Likewise, and call me when you get home."
"I'll think about it, Sir."
"DON'T call me Sir!" he snapped and Claire hung up, laughing.
It was eleven in the morning when she finally got out of the private elevator and into the parking lot. She only used it out of curiosity of whether the password given was authentic or not.
She was elated to find that it was, and that Ryan gave it to her willingly.
"Claire?" A voice called her, startling her badly.
"Bruno," she uttered, swallowing hard.
Her heart skipped a beat.