Rub Me The Wrong Way (Erotic Shorts Book 2)

Rub Me the Wrong Way

Erotic Shorts Part 2

By Xavier Neal

© Xavier Neal 2015

Published by Entertwine Publishing

Cover by Entertwine Publishing

License Note

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form with authorization of the Author Xavier Neal or Entertwine Publishing

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication: To the Universe. May I continue to love every day as much as I love this one.

Monday

“Would you have sex with him?” I casually ask Hope.

Her face reddens quickly as her head rapidly shakes. “I'm a happily married woman.”

Rolling my eyes I sigh. “Fine. If you weren't a happily married woman, would you wanna have sex with him?”

She scrunches her sweet face giving me the answer I was wanting.

“Exactly.” I push the photo back across my desk. “Now please take Fido out back like Old Yeller.”

“Wow,” she whispers. She drops a hand on her hip. “You're in a mood.”

“I am not.” I am. I so fucking am. But it's not my fault I've got the shakes because the world's hottest massage therapist made me go cold turkey all weekend. Completely cold turkey. My vibrator doesn't appreciate being ignored. Vodka, however, was happy to help numb the pain.

“Are too.”

I drop my pen and begin rubbing the back of my neck. Somehow the muscles have knotted themselves up so tightly it feels like I've never had a massage in my entire life. Within the first couple of squeezes, I find myself wishing it was Klous' firm hands. It was impeccable the way he hit every tense spot on my back and between my legs. I swear he had a fucking GPS system to help. He had to. No man can be that good in the sack all the time without help! That damn Swedish God, who looks like something they built in a secret sex lab, has been the main focus of most of my thoughts since he zipped his pants and left my office. He hasn't even spoken to me since our little office tryst Friday. I shouldn't be surprised or hurt, which I'm not. I'm just...annoyed. Who barges into someone’s office, fucks their brains out, then doesn't call all weekend? That's rude. Unprofessional.

“It's a good thing you have that massage today,” Hope hums reaching for the photo. “You always come back in such a better mood.”

Getting the sex your life needs does that to a person. Especially a very stressed out CEO who was starting to get cobwebs. Thank goodness he blew the dust off before I needed one of those industrial fans.

Instead of commenting on that I move my squeezing to my shoulders. “Did you book-”

“The hotel for the conference? Yes.”

On a groan I shut my eyes, digging my fingers into the tension that's stiffening me up. This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I feel like I was hit by a freight train. Ha. I was basically fucked by a freight train. I can't believe I just said that.

“But-”

“I don't like sentences that begin that way. You know that.”

“I do.” Cautiously she continues, “But-”

“There it is again.”

“However-”

“That's like a but wearing a suit and tie.”

“However!” Hope huffs and I look up with a crooked smile. “We are booked in separate rooms.”

Perplexed, I lift my eyebrows.

“Well, you don't really take vacations-”

“There's not any time for vacation when you're responsible for breaking records and running an entire company that would collapse like a house of cards without you.”

Hope tilts her head. “I think you're over exaggerating.” When my eyebrows furrow, she continues, “My point was, you don't take vacations, which means I don't take vacations. So, I am turning this conference into a little getaway for all of us.”

“All of us?”

“I'm bringing Harry-”

“Which is why we're staying in separate rooms. Got it.”

Hope cradles the files to her chest. “Maybe you should think about bringing someone?” Before my brain can wander any specific direction, she snaps loudly. “Oh! Before I forget you have a phone interview with Crissy Muller. She wants Devin's position.”

Leaning back in my office chair I shake my head. “I don't think I can sit through another monotone, you bore the shit out of me, I wouldn't hire you to put me to sleep interview.”

She giggles. “I handpicked this one. I think you'll like her.”

Playfully I say, “I don't like you.”

“You fucking love me.” Hope giggles again. “Speaking of phone calls-”

“If that sentence ends with Dani wants anything, just save your breath and go.”

With a quick nod, she turns on heels, and strolls out of my office.

I swear she's like an overgrown toddler with an ego the size of a Kardashian. Feeling frustrations firing through my system again, I shut my eyes. I do need a vacation. Klous is like a vacation in the middle of the day. A sexy naked vacation. That trip to paradise is one I am more than willing to book a one way ticket to.

At the sound of the door opening, I lift my eyelids.

Hope grips the side of my door and announces, “There's a Mr. Klein on line one for you.”

My attempt to suppress my smile fails. Miserably.

“Are you smiling?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“I am not.”

“I can tell by the way your mouth is, Astin! That's a smile.”

“That's...a muscle twitch. Not a smile.”

“Who's Mr. Klein?”

“It's a private call.”

“Like a phone sex operator?”

“Do I look like I need a phone sex operator?” She hesitates to respond and I shoo her away with a hand. “Just...go...”

Hope tosses her hands up in surrender. After a quick wink, she shuts the door.

Confidently I answer the phone, “This is Miss Anderson.”

“Morning, Miss Anderson.” Klous' voice glides across the phone and straight for my pussy. Annoyed that it's responding this way immediately, I clench my thighs together. “I take it you’re well.”

“I'm fine.” My curt reply is met with a short chuckle on the other end of the line. “Did I say something funny, Mr. Klein?”

“After last week, have you learned nothing about relinquishing control, Astin?”

I pick up my pen and slide over the papers I know are waiting for my signature. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you didn't enjoy the fact I didn't make contact all weekend.”

How can I want someone who I hate so much at the same time? Doesn't that make me broken? I want him to break me. Oh! Get it together, Astin! “It didn't bother me.”

“Then what is that tension in your voice?”

“Stress from the day.”

“You're a terrible liar, Miss Anderson.”

“And you don't like being wrong, Mr. Klein.”

“No problem admitting I'm wrong. This just isn't one of those times. You missed me this weekend. Admit it.”

Feeling the nerve he hit twisting, I try to hold my ground. “It's just sex with us.”

There's a very still silence slipping back and forth between us.

When I reach the brink of not being able to handle the fact he hasn't replied any longer, I spit out, “Right?”

Instead of responding to my question, he clears his throat. “I was calling to confirm your appointment for this evening, Miss Anderson.”

“Don't you have a receptionist that should do that for you?” I bite. Shit. I gotta stop this. I have more control over my feelings than this. They don't rule me any more than he does. Besides, if it really is just sex, why am I acting like a butt hurt school girl?

Klous calmly informs me, “She does. However, when it comes to my personal life I prefer to make the calls myself.”

Tensing, I lean back in my chair. “Personal life?”

“The one woman I'm sleeping with is personal.”

His declaration catches my breath. I lift my pen to my lips, tempted to bite the lid. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? He knows he's the only man I'm sleeping with. This doesn't mean anything different. This is still just sex. I think. Maybe.

“Is your appointment still on for this evening, Miss Anderson?”

In a quiet voice I confirm, “Yes.”

“Good,” he states strongly. “I have special instructions for you.”

“I haven't touched myself all weekend.”

Klous' lets out a subtle groan before saying, “Good. It means your pussy is ready for another round with me.”

I bite down hard on the end of my pen. Fuck.

“But that's not what I was going to ask.”

“You weren't?”

“No.”

Remembering the attitude he got about this subject before pushes me to ask, “Why not?”

“I trust you.”

Oddly enough, I trust him as well. Otherwise I wouldn't let him take me to the levels he has. To do that with basically a complete stranger either means I felt that connection of trust right away or I'd lost my fucking mind. How about a combination of both?

“Now, you should've received a package.”

“I haven't received anything,” I reply moments before there's a knock on my office door. “Come in!”

Hope opens the door and reveals a small black box with a beautiful yellow colored flower lingering on top. “Package just came for you.”

Dropping the pen in my clutches, I politely say, “Thank you.”

Suspiciously she gestures the flower and mouths. “A flower?”

I point to the door, which causes her to mumble something before she shuts it.

Lifting the flower to my nose, I take a long inhale, the aroma seducing my senses. Klous smugly questions, “Enjoying the Golden Queen?”

Not willing to just cave, I reply, “Maybe.” His warm chortle causes me to smile. “Why'd you pick it? Why not a rose?”

“You're not common like they are.”

The compliment parts my lips not to fight but actually to thank him for it. Uncomfortable with that idea, I ask, “Why just one?”

“A lone queen for a lone queen seemed fitting.”

Unsure how the train of thought makes me feel I twirl it around in my grip. “It's beautiful.”

“As are you.” His pause is brief before he says, “It's actually special to a certain providence of Sweden.”

The information about his family that I researched comes rolling back into my head as I give the flower another inhale. This isn't just any flower. It has meaning. Heritage. He's reaching to offer me more than a massage. More than just the delicious Dom side I experienced. I know I threw a bitch fit when he didn't fucking call or text, but do I want more? Can I handle more? Fuck, do I have time for more?