Reparation(42)

“Mr. Kane, your one-thirty is ...,”

Saved by the bell.

Tate opened her eyes. The squawking secretary was a couple feet into the room, and turning bright red. Tate smiled and flicked her eyes to Jameson. His chin was resting on her chest, and one of his hands was halfway down her pants. He looked casual, but his secretary looked ready to burst into flames. Tate wondered how many women he'd fucked in his office. Maybe she was the first. She wiggled her hips underneath him.

“Yes, Mrs. Janette?” he asked, scratching his fingers up Tate's stomach as he pulled his hand free of her pants.

“I'm so sorry,” the other woman breathed.

“It's quite alright. Do you mind, Tate?” he asked, not looking down at her.

“Nope.”

“What did you need?” Jameson asked the secretary as he slowly backed off of Tatum.

“Your ..., your one-thirty appointment. Mr. Yamamoto. He's -, he's here,” the secretary stuttered, looking everywhere around the room but at them.

“Of course. Tell him ten minutes,” Jameson replied, and the secretary fled from the room. Tate pulled herself up so she was sitting.

“Ten minutes isn't very long,” she told him. He shook his head, buttoning his vest back up.

“No, not nearly long enough for all the things I want to do to you. As sexy as your whore-y ways are, I don't think I can be inside of you, knowing that Ang might have just been there,” he explained. She snorted.

“I didn't have sex with him,” she snapped. Jameson smiled.

“I know. Still. The mental image. You have five days, baby girl. You better make sure that no one else has been here, when I get you back,” he said softly, stepping forward to run a finger up and down the seam between her legs. She rubbed her lips together.

“You think you can go a couple days without fucking me?” she asked, widening her legs.

“I've gone a lot longer than that before, I think I can manage it again. Besides, I'm submitting the termination papers to the secretary downstairs. I may not be so bored while you're gone,” he whispered, his finger pressing harder. She curled her fingers into his shoulders.

“I swear, if you fuck her, I'm definitely gonna fuck Nick.”

“Threaten me again, and I'll beat your ass so hard you won't even be able to walk during your little sabbatical with Nick.”

God, I missed this.

“Maybe,” she breathed, his fingers starting to make her pant, “maybe we could be really fast. We still have, like, six minutes left.” Before she could say more, he stopped touching her and pressed the finger to her lips.

“Shhhh. Good things come to those who wait. You want to spend the next few days with your boyfriend? Fine. Then you have to wait for me to give you what you need,” he replied.

It was only fair. She continued to squirm around on top of his desk, wanting his finger back. Wanting him to finish what he'd started. She wanted to finish him. Her eyes flicked down to the desk, then to his crotch. Down again, then up again.

“How much time is left?” she breathed, shoving him back and hopping off the desk.

“Maybe five minutes. Why? What are you thinking?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I'm thinking I might be able to fit under this desk almost as well as the desk at home.”

“Such a whore, baby girl. I love it.”



*



Of course Jameson didn't like the idea of her spending time downtown, alone, hanging out with Nick Castille. He fucking hated the idea. When she first brought it up, he had wanted to slap the idea right out of her fucking head. Who did she think she was!? Who did she think she was dealing with!? She wasn't allowed to galavanting off, just fucking whomever she pleased, and using Jameson's condo to do it. Fuck that.

But then she had asked for the time to think. And thinking was good. She was so close to just letting go. He could feel it. Whatever she and Sanders had talked about had changed something. Brought her around in a way Jameson hadn't been able to. She looked at him different, treated him different. There was a wall that was gone. The detachment was gone from her eyes. She was finally really looking at him again. After so long.

It was nice.

So if he needed to let her go, again, so she could figure shit out, then he would do it. For her. Only for her.

But good god, was she going to pay when she got home.





~7~


Tate met up with Nick later that evening, at a sushi place on a busy street. She got there before him and was able to watch as he approached. He was an exceedingly good looking guy. He smiled at everyone, a sort of sideways smile, his bottom lip pulling to the right. Chocolate brown eyes, soft brown hair. Built body. Kind soul. She smacked herself every day, for not being able to just like him back. But apparently she prefered ice cold blue eyes and fangs for smiles. She liked her toys to have a little bite, and Nick was all cuddle.