Flowers for Jill Ch. 02

Author's note:

Thank you very much for reading the first part, and for all the feedback. I appreciate it more than I can say! I hope you enjoy the second chapter, and continue to email me/comment with your opinions!

Also, to the reader who mentioned the importance of coffee; you're brilliant! I'm a coffee junkie, and I threw in the coffee bit for you!

Cheers!

Ginger M.

*****

She hadn't been able to think coherently since Monday, and it was all his fault. Marc. Why did he have to go and complicate things like that? Having a name to go with the face...and body was driving her up the wall, but that's not what bothered her the most. She was shocked -almost scared- when she recalled his telling her that he knew who she was. How, what, huh?

She had been alone in the suite when she woke up, which set off a number of alarms in her head since she was always the first to leave after their encounters. She never fell asleep on any of the expensive, lavish furniture pieces with him, and barely spared time to clean up in the powder room after they were done with each other. Her control over her surroundings was slipping; he was the final string that attached her to her command over things, and that was severed, too.

Working for a company like Élsi Dussant, put her in a world where everything was a label, a designer name, and a season-hot commodity; hence a man with no name was everything she needed to balance her life. In a world where everyone dreaded horrid Mondays, and complained about them all week long, she looked forward to the first day of the week, because it was her Jack Day. Well, no more.

Mind made up, she decided that she wasn't going back to the hotel on Monday, she wasn't going to stay and find out how he knew her name, and whether she was going to fall for him and have him break her heart just like Curt did all those years ago.

On Monday morning, she cranked up her posh coffee machine adding an extra scoop of her Starbucks Blond Roast, and an extra cup of water; if she couldn't have Jack she'll enjoy Joe.

She refused to look at her Howard Miller silver pyramid desk clock, and ended up flipping it face-side down when she couldn't focus on anything else but the ever moving little arms that edged closer and closer to the Six O'clock mark which indicated her Marc -no, Jack time.

He's probably going to appreciate her not showing up since he was obviously in rare form the other day, and he slipped and let things progress like that. She was doing him a favor, and not avoiding an awkward situation.

"You're a very selfless person, Jillian; self-sacrificing to no end." She murmured to herself and dug out for a pack of gum in her second desk drawer to hide her coffee breath.

There was a knock at the door, and she straightened in her chair trying to look like Balanced Boss Lady for whoever wanted to see her, "Come in." The pack of gum she found was empty. Damnation!

"Jillian, you're still here?" her casting agent stuck her head in with its mass of brilliant bottle-red hair decorated by the woman's trademark chopsticks, "It's after 7:00!"

Her heart tripped, but she plastered a shaky smile on her face, "I had a lot of work to do." Mints, she had mints.

"You've been here since 8:00 am, you never do the whole Manic Monday thing."

A vision of Jack sprawled on the corner chair by the ceiling-high windows with her between his legs flashed in her mind, and she blinked a few times trying to think of something else other than his cum shooting from his penis to cover her breasts...her open palms massaging it over her full twin globes with her eyes locked on his.

"I had some important things to do. What, with Mr. Dussant's son taking over the company we have to be in tiptop shape." she swallowed and shook her head, it wasn't a complete lie, "I went over some prospects for the..." she swallowed the rest of the sentence. She was going to say soon-to-be-vacated positions, but that was still a management-only discussion, "it's boring, really, just growth and payroll adjustment stuff." She waved her hand dismissively as she located her pack of strong mints, and popped two in her mouth.

The redhead, Veronique, planted her butt in one of the progressive 1960's style chairs Jillian had ordered to be specifically made for her, and reached reflexively for the clock righting it, "Look, I know some people might get canned, and I don't care about that because I know I'm not one of them. I know my professionalism, and work ethic are stellar and I won't ever worry about my job, but I am worried about you. You've inhaled a whole pot of coffee today, and only came out for lunch-" lifting up a hand and nodding in explanation, "I know that because I use your fancy coffee maker when you're out of the office, and I had to settle for instant crap today, seriously, not cute, Jillian."

That made her laugh, "Oh wow! I...I don't know what to say to that!"

"I don't mess with your stuff or anything, but I did see that list you prepared for the upper management folks the other day, and I think you're doing the right thing."

Chuckling, Jillian said "Remind me to lock my office door when I leave." She folded her laptop closed after hitting the "send" tab emailing Mr. Dussant Junior her latest list of candidates, and twisted her Cross pen closed, "I was wondering where all my ground coffee went!" she stole a peek at the time, 7:34 pm, he probably left the hotel a long time ago...or, did he wait for her? Damn, why was she still thinking about him?

She pushed her chair back, and got up straightening her pencil skirt, and pulling it down a little. Veronique was smiling, "It's damn good coffee!"

"You bet your ass, it is!" she made a shooing motion, "Okay, so your concern for my welfare is appreciated, now you need to haul your butt out of here so that I can leave."

"Hey, don't lock the office door tomorrow."

She slipped her blazer on, and grabbed her Gucci purse looking around the office to make sure she didn't forget anything she might need at home, and didn't leave anything "on" that wasn't supposed to be left overnight, "And encourage your snooping? You're delusional if you think I'm that crazy."

They chatted easily on their way to the parking lot on the changes sweeping the company's various offices and stores, and by the time she got into her cherry red Jaguar XF, she was feeling considerably lighter. She just needed to revamp...everything around her, starting with her operating staff, then she could start trying new restaurants, and maybe change her gym or redecorate her dapper loft apartment.

The drive from her office to her downtown apartment was short, and the trip would've been nicer if she'd walked instead. But it was already dark, and her BCBG Max Azria sling back heels were pretty and they complimented her crimson red blouse that contrasted with her black suit, but not at all made for a two mile walk no matter how nice the streets were.

Key's jingling in their Tiffany's keychain, she strode across the hall after greeting the doorman, and messed with the elevator buttons until it came down. With the wheels in motion in her head, she was set to start planning a course of action; she needed a new source of entertainment, and just like she found Jack in an exclusive club's bar, she was going to find someone else. She knew people, she worked in the fashion industry for Pete's sake. Sure, she didn't look like a waifish runway model, but she was pretty sure most men preferred her FHM spread model body, with tits, ass, and legs for days, to a Marie Claire cover art piece that looked too untouchable to be human.

The lift dinged, and she sashayed out smiling at the thought of her modeling for a men's magazine, all trussed up in exotic underwear, and biting bananas, licking cherry lollipops, or sucking down on a gigantic popsicle. It's not that she hadn't done it before; college loans were the pits, and her few modeling gigs made her almost, almost want to forget about business administration and just switch to modeling, but that was a—she stopped short, her train of thought halting go an abrupt stop.

"Bad girl, Jillian; going out of your way to piss me off like that." He looked imposing, displeased, and a tad bit threatening. His blond hair looked like he'd raked his fingers through it several times, and his beautiful eyes were twin blue flames that blazed hotter with every passing second.

"What are you doing here?" she swayed on her feet, her heels not providing much balance over the hallway's carpeted floors.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he laughed mirthlessly, "You stood me up."

She licked her lips nervously, maybe if she didn't say anything he'll get the hint and leave. Does that ever work with people? Or she can lie to him and say she had an emergency, my grandmother slipped in the shower, a delivery truck rear-ended my car and I had it towed, something, anything.

"I was going out of my mind wanting you, and you just..." he hissed shaking his head. It was alarming that she grasped on the way he said "out" in his Canadian accent; oat. The accent came out when he was aroused and, as she was learning now, when he was royally pissed. She was supposed to be dismissing him, not swooning over the way he pronounced words.

"Look, Jack-" she started.

"It's Marc. Enough with the Jack crap." He ground out furiously, "What? Is it too inconvenient for you to actually know who you're fucking? I didn't peg you for the common cum slut, but if it makes you happy to get on your knees and suck off a stranger's dick, then by all means, you can get on the floor and take my cock in the back of your throat -just the way you like it. And if you're a good girl, and you swallow every drop, I'll eat your sweet peach that will definitely be dripping honey after you're done blowing me. Hell, I'll even spit on your asshole and finger it for you -again, just the way you like it."

He was seething, but she was shocked and chafed to red angry ball of fire, "Go to hell!" she wheezed unable to form any other scalding comebacks.

"Is that why you ran away? Because you know who I am?"

"I don't know who you are!" she cried, "Yet, somehow, you know my name and where I live. I should call the cops on you, Marc, or Jack, or whatever the hell you call yourself."

A veil of understanding glazed his eyes, and his lips twisted to the side slightly, "Aaaah, so it's not the name thing."

He was wrong, dead wrong; it was both! "I'm serious; I have 911 programmed to my speed dial." She slipped her phone out of the outer pocket of her Gucci.

"You're scared of me." he was smiling fully, and despite her confusion and irritation with him, she felt her pussy clench and release at the sight of his smile. She shouldn't have met his stare, because the intimate way he was assessing her with made the crotch of her Elle Macpherson panties stick to her slickening pussy lips.

"How did you get in here anyway?" she shook her head, clutching her phone in a death grip in one hand, and her keys in the other, making them leave burning imprints on the inside of her hand, "How on earth did you get past the doorman?"

He said something, but the sound of a door opening at the end of the hallway, made her head snap in panic, and she rushed past Jack to her door opening it without thinking before her neighbor caught any part of her argument with him.

She realized that it was a stupid mistake the second she put her foot in the apartment, because she found herself turned and pressed against the door before she could blink. He pushed her back until the door clicked shut, and his lips were mashed to hers in a wet kiss.

This wasn't in the plans...wait, she didn't have any plans beyond showing him the door...preferably the one he had her flattened upon with his long hard body caging her small, soft one.

His mouth was delicious, he tasted of light spearmint and a hint of something sweet; like Christmas on her lips, on her tongue as his stole into her mouth coaxing a moan out of her.

"Mmmfff..." she grasped his shoulder looking for -needing something of him to touch, and her keys sailed down, clattering on the floor, but all she could hear was the smacking slick sounds of his lips and tongue battling and sucking on hers. Impatiently, she pushed at his suit jacket, and failed to get it off.

He pulled back to push her purse away, she was still clutching it under her armpit, and it poked him in the chest, "Jack-Marc, wait!" her correction of his name earned her a loud smooch on the lips.

He rubbed his lips back and forth on hers, his blue eyes half-closed yet locked intensely with hers.

"Wait." She whispered weakly half meaning it, but he read beyond it, and kissed her, "I don't want to."

"We need to ta-" she whimpered when one of his hands pulled at her black pencil skirt crudely bunching it up around her waist, and his fingers caressed the soaked crotch of her lacy panties, "Uhhhmmm, fuck!" her eyes fluttered closed, and he attached his lips to her neck, right under her jaw as he mumbled, "Yes, we need to fuck."

"Talk." She stuttered incoherently as his tongue drew lazy swirling wet patterns on her neck and under her jaw.

"Screw that." His thick index finger slipped under the thin material of her underwear and ran softly on her swollen labia spreading her moisture, "You're already wet. Is that for me?" he asked silkily nuzzling her temples, his breath making the tiny tendrils that escaped her loose bun flutter against her cheeks, "Have you been thinking of how utterly awful it was of you to stand me up like that? Coming up with ways to make it up to me?"

"No." she told him the truth, "I was trying not to think of you, Marc." She turned and talked against his stubble-roughened cheek, then pressed a kiss to his warm skin.

He pinched her cunt lips together rubbing them in distorted circles against each other with her clit trapped between his fingers, "Is that why you're soaking my hand, you little tart?" he swirled her wetness along her cleft all the way back to her anus where he twirled his slick middle finger and rubbed suggestively.

"I'm not..." she bit her tongue when he pulled his head back to gaze into her eyes candidly, "Right." He said bringing his hand up, and beckoned her with a nod to look at his middle and index finger as he spread them indecently to stretch a line of her moisture between them, "What's this about then?" Aboat. Jesus.

"Marc, I-" the rest of her sentence died and turned into a moan when he darted his tongue out between his fingers to capture her pussy juice on it, before licking his lips, "Yes?" he smirked, and when she didn't answer, he put his fingers to her lips smearing them with her essence, "Suck them." he whispered, "Lick them clean, Jillian."

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, but he tapped her cheek with his slick fingers, "Eyes open."

Her lids fluttered open, and she waited for him to put his fingers in her mouth, but he just watched her until she extended her tongue and gave him a little lick. He let out a harsh breath when she placed an open-mouthed sucking kiss on his finger, and he brought the two digits together and fed them to her.

Any reasonable decision she formulated earlier in the day was thrown away, and stomped upon as she slid her mouth on his fingers like she was sucking a cock. Hollowed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes she went at him taking his fingers all the way until she felt like she was about to gag, and swallowed convulsively squeezing his long fingers with her throat muscles.

His pupils were dilated and dark, surrounded by the blue ring of his beautiful irises, "Christ!" he ground out and pulled his fingers free of her lips to slide them into her panties again, going straight for her tight anus and circling it with the tip of his middle finger.

She wanted to tell him to take it easy, to keep his hands to himself until they talked and she explained to him that their arrangement wasn't going to work any longer, but all she could think of was the moistened finger stretching her tight ass and slipping inside.

"Marc, I've never-"

"I know, shhh," he placed an extremely gentle kiss on her lips, "I can tell." He whispered against her mouth as his finger dipped deeper.

She jerked, but he was a solid wall of muscle; he looped his other arm around left thigh to wrap her leg around his waist and open her up.

"I had my mouth in there a few days ago, don't you remember?" he whispered huskily against her lips as his finger disappeared completely into her ass causing a feeling of fullness that was both strange and exciting.

They made a comical spectacle, both fully clothed and disheveled, he with his suit jacket's sleeves scrunched up over his still cuffed shirt sleeves, and Jillian with her phone and purse still clutched in her hand, and her business skirt rolled around her midsection with her leg looped around him, and his hand in her knickers.

He added a more vital tempo to his finger's movements in and out of her anus, positioning his hand so that its heel rubbed against her clitoris as he went in and out of her. Her breath came in short gasps as she looked down to see the edges of his Burberry shirt cuffs smudged with her juices. She contorted her shaking hand awkwardly to drop her phone in her purse, before tossing it to the floor, but once she had her hand freed, she didn't know what to do with it. On the one hand, she wanted to comb it through his brilliant blond hair, and cup his bristled cheek, and stroke his chest, and on the other she wanted to slap him in outrage for turning her into a nymphomaniac who couldn't say no.

She did slap him, but it was so light he grinned thinking it was part of her tease act or something, it was difficult to tell with her lips parted and her eyes hooded as she gazed up at him.

"Harder?" he went knuckle deep and she winced, partially at the odd pleasure that left her frustrated with herself, and at the length of his invading finger.

Her answer came out in a strained groan, and he kept guessing since all her answers were unintelligible, "Too much?"

Jillian nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again, and he chuckled, "I guess that's a no to a second finger."

"Oh God!" her eyes shot wide open and she licked her lips reflexively, "Marc?" she made to peel his blazer off again, and he studied her for a quick second, before pulling his hand out of her panties, and shrugging out of his jacket.

Her foot fell to the floor, trembling leg barely supporting her, and she clutched at his tie swallowing and blinking, trying to digest the varied sensations that assaulted her all at once.

"Let me get this noose off," he prompted gently, and when she stared at the tie's perfect Windsor knot with two dimples, he grasped her hand tightening his large one on it, and pulled it down helping her take it off.

Taking her cue from him, she made a quick job of unbuttoning his tailored shirt, barely able to meet his gaze as he sucked the finger that was inside her ass and gazed down at her, again, luring her with his basic sensuality.

In a haze, she saw him strip her down to her lingerie and comment, "Always matching." Their eyes met, "I like that." He kissed her slipping his fingers into her red bra and pulling her breasts over the cups in a fashion that pushed them up and together like an offering, "You have the prettiest nipples." He praised plucking at the engorged tips, "I'm going to suckle them." she was pretty sure he said half of those things just to drive her insane, somehow managing to read her mind, and get a manual to all the buttons and gears he needed to press, twist, and pull to get her into that state of mind.