Any ability to speak or even breathe is completely stolen.
“Now,” he arrogantly smirks over having regained the higher ground and leans back out of my space, “is that the only prerequisite for me choosing a place for us to dine? Nothing else?”
I slowly nod.
“Very well then.” Benicio steps to the side and motions his head towards the vehicle. “Miko, door.”
“Yes, boss,” his second swiftly states prior to reaching for the handle to the vehicle.
The instant I slip inside the limo, Benicio commands, “You ride up front.”
In spite of the fact there probably shouldn’t be, I can still hear humor in Miko’s voice, “Sono stato punito?
“Sì.” Benicio prepares to take a seat as well. “I’ll send you an address to give Luis.”
Another word doesn’t leave Miko, and I can’t say I’m surprised.
Reading voices, the way most people read faces, is what I do.
It’s how I know he was being serious when telling me he would look over my findings yesterday and absolutely sincere when talking to my father a few minutes ago. Most people focus more on their words and expressions when lying when, in reality, their choice of volume and inconsistent speech pattern can effortlessly reveal that. Your voice often is just as telling as the looks you give and from the way Benicio’s lacks the amusement it previously had informs us both that a nerve of true annoyance was struck.
Too bad I’m not entirely sure which one of us strummed it.
Our side by side seating arrangement in the vehicle doesn’t deescalate the awkwardness or the sexual tension.
Part of me can’t stop wondering can he fire me if this dinner doesn’t go well?
Okay, not can he, because obviously he can, he could’ve had me killed where I stood yesterday for barging into his home office – a calculated risk I still feel was worth taking considering any fuck ups could be pinned on me, the person in charge. It’s not really a question of can he so much as will he? Does everything have to go well for me to keep my job? Is he the type of monster that will fire someone unwilling to fuck him?
Not that I’m necessarily unwillingly.
That brings me to the other issue I’m mentally scribbling notes about over here.
Just having his leg this close has me itching to drop to the floor, spread his thighs wide, and insist he teach me to call him Benicio like he implied he would.
On my knees.
With his dick deep in my throat.
Which is fucking ridiculous on top of all the other fucking ridiculous things happening tonight.
I shouldn’t be this anxious to have his cock in my mouth, just like I shouldn’t have touched myself to the timbres of his voice echoing in my mind at one in the morning.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Am I really this desperate?
Benicio’s leg brushes against mine, prompting an airy moan to push past my parted lips.
Apparently. Fucking. So.
“Are you not going to speak to me at all on this date?”
I drag my attention away from the window I had been aimlessly staring out to meet his unhappy gaze. Seeing the opportunity to seize some of my dignity back as well as some of the poorly distributed power in our situation, I swiftly snatch it. “I didn’t agree to a date.”
His scowl intensifies.
“In fact, I barely agreed to dinner.”
“Sapevo che era un rapimento,” Miko comments from the front of the vehicle.
Benicio’s breathing slightly shifts further indicating his displeasure.
“You strong armed me,” I shift in my seat to face him, “which, for the record, is no way to get an actual date from someone you’re remotely interested in pursuing for personal reasons. It’s something you do – again – in a hostile takeover scenario.”
“Tell me why you won’t go on a date with me.”
There’s no attempt to answer.
Benicio doesn’t take my silence well. He angles himself to better hold my stare hostage. “Rispondetemi.”
Still nothing.
“Now.”
The combination of comments causes me to release an amalgamation of a scoff and an astonished laugh. “Have you ever asked for anything?”
His mouth twitches to reply yet is interrupted.
“Or said please?” My hands fold in my navy skirt covered lap. “Surely, the etiquette classes I’m positive you took, covered the basics of please and thank you.”
Benicio’s lids turn to slits reiterating his disapproval of my retort.
“A non-work-related conversation operates differently because the dynamics – believe it or not – are not the same. Mr. Bennett is allowed to make cold commands since it’s his name on the company. I’m not stupid enough to tell him no and think that I’ll keep my job or my life for that matter. Benicio, however, isn’t entitled to the same treatment. He may ask for information or for a date, but his demands can and will be ignored when and how I see fit because I am in control of my body and my free time.”
A moment of silence nestles between us in which I brace myself for backlash.
I am all for a man who isn’t afraid to be a man, but I am completely against a man who believes that just because he is one that means he has the final say in everything. That my opinion and my choices or wants are obsolete.
You Tarzan, Me Jane?
I’m down.
As long as Tarzan knows this Jane can speak for herself, fend for herself, and protect herself. It’s a privilege earned to do those things for me.
Not a right.
Benicio’s ticking jaw lowers to slowly leak out unexpected words, “Will you please tell me why you keep refusing to go on a date with me?”
I force myself to hide my smile of surprise over the change in his behavior. “You mean other than the fact it’s your signature on my paychecks?”
“There’s more to it than that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Dejection and confusion don’t hesitate to appear. “Are you not attracted to me?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’m fucking attracted to you. Part of me keeps hoping you’ll just pull me over your knee, lift up my skirt, and spank me until I call you sir or some shit.”
“I have no problem making that arrangement, mia bella.”
“I’m sure you don’t. The added air to your voice indicates the idea turns you on as much as it does me.”