Upward Ambition Ch. 05

"Please," I pant. "Can I come?"

He kisses my temple.

"Not yet."

He edges me for almost an hour, drawing me ever so close to release and then pulling me back again. Every time I ask to come, he tells me the same thing. "Not yet."

I'm crying again, this time with the exquisite frustration of it. I wasn't aware it was possible to dance this close to the edge without falling over, but he keeps me there, waiting on his word. I can't come until he gives me permission. I won't.

He strokes me steadily, bringing me up to an impossible height. My whole body feels coiled around that single point of contact. Pleasure brims inside me, straining at my sinew and seeping through my pores.

"Please," I cry, as his grip tightens and his pace quickens. "Please, Mr. Harrow. Can I come?"

"Yes," he says, and I orgasm with a wail. My hips pump frantically as I spurt my cum over his hand. He brings his fingers to my lips and I swallow them down without hesitation, sucking them clean of my salty spunk.

"Good boy," he murmurs into my ear. The dizzying tilt-a-whirl of pain and pleasure I've been on finally slows, and I almost cry with the relief of finding myself again on solid ground.

As the minutes pass, I keep expecting Derek to get up and leave me there, but he doesn't move. I would think he's fallen asleep, except he still presses occasional lazy kisses to my skin and hair. The strange intersection of leisure and intimacy is both confusing and surreal. And, to be fair, kind of nice. I believed him when he said we weren't friends or lovers, but there's still something sacred about the peacefulness enveloping us. Even with my arms still tightly restrained, I'm drowsy with comfort.

I'm just about to drift off, when I hear Derek's voice again in my ear.

"He used a cane."

I swim through my own sleepy fog, trying in vain to make sense of what he's saying.

"What?" I murmur at last.

"My father used a cane on me when I was a kid, whenever he thought I deserved it—which was more often than not."

My focus sharpens. I swallow hard, unsure what to say, unsure if I'm supposed to say anything at all.

"I hated him with every fiber of my being," Derek goes on, his voice low but steady. "But I still did everything I could to make him happy, even though it was never enough. I wanted to study engineering in college, but he wanted me to get my MBA, and so that's what I did. I wanted to get a job somewhere on my own merits and work my way up, but he wanted me at Fultech, and so that's what I did. On my first official day, he called me to the board room with Kevin Grant, and he told me I could finally be useful to him by helping him pay off an old debt. Then he locked the door and waited outside while Kevin pushed me against the wall and fucked me dry."

I close my eyes against the relentless onslaught of his story. My heart is pounding a mile a minute, but behind me, Derek seems perfectly calm, like he's talking about what he had for dinner.

"When I was twenty-four, I got engaged. He didn't approve of my fiancé—for no other reason than it meant I had someone in my life I cared about other than him—and when I wouldn't break it off with her, he seduced her, fucked her, and then made me watch the video of it the night before the wedding. I never dated again after that.

"When I was twenty-seven, I made my first million for the company. I told my father I'd tank the contract unless he let me transfer to the London office. As much as he liked having me under his thumb, he liked making money more. We made a deal that as long as I kept up the cash flow, I didn't have to come home.

"Then this year he called to tell me he was dying. He said he'd booked a plane ticket for me to come back and be with him. I told him a deal is a deal. The next day I closed a three-million-dollar contract, cancelled the plane ticket, and the next time I saw him was in his casket at the funeral."

For a long time, I'm speechless. My head keeps whirring back to the Mike Harrow I thought I knew, trying to reconcile him with the man I'm hearing about now. Derek's unrelenting drive and uncompromising standards are starting to make more sense. He grew up thinking that achieving success might earn his father's love, and when that hope was dashed, it was that same success that saved him. Self-control is both his armor and his weapon of choice.

"Wow," I say at last, weakly. "Your dad was a dick."

A snort of laughter ruffles my hair.

"And then some."

"But Kevin Grant," I say, frowning. "Why is he still there? Why haven't you fired him?"

Derek doesn't seem like the type to forgive and forget. (Unlike me, apparently, since I'm currently the little spoon with the man who fucked me against my will.) And it's pretty obvious that he doesn't have a high opinion of Kevin's competency at his job.

"He had something on my father. It's the only reason he even became CFO. But I never figured out what it was, and until I know it's not something that will damage the company, I can't risk firing him." The irony of him being concerned about blackmail is so funny that I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Somehow, I don't think he'll appreciate it as much as I do. "His time is coming though. He's going to pay."

A shiver runs through me. Maybe it's just the pain- and sex-induced haze, but I can't help feel a little turned on by the cool, ruthless confidence in his voice. When it's not directed at me, it's sexy as hell. Maybe Derek senses the current that passes through me, because he leans in to take my earlobe again between his teeth. I let out a soft moan and grind my ass back against him. I can feel his cock stirring against my crack.

It doesn't take long before he's parting my cheeks and spearing me again. We remain curved on our sides, fitted perfectly together as he rocks his hips against me. I don't know what he's thinking as he moves toward his climax—whether he's still remembering his past or anticipating his future revenge, or maybe his precise control extends also to his mind, and he can shut off those thoughts as easily as his emotions about them.

As for me, I'm thinking that as far as neuroses go, I could definitely have it worse.