Reparation (14 page)

“Where
the fuck
have you been?” he demanded, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. Tate gestured to her crazy hair.

“Sleeping. I literally jumped out of bed and onto the red line,” she assured him.

“I don't give a fuck. I said noon, not noon-ish,” he reminded her. She shrugged.

“Too late now. We stayed up late,” she told him.

“Doing
what
, exactly?” he asked.

“Just some light bondage, nipple clamps, car batteries, things like that,” she said with a smile.

“Nothing in comparison to what I plan on doing to you.”

A shiver ran over her whole body and she had trouble not drooling.

“Sounds fun.”

“What did you to two do last night? Why am I giving
Angier
persmission to spend the night with you?” Jameson pressed. Tate sighed.

“He got upset about the Ellie thing, had a silly plan to make her jealous by making out with me. We stayed up late and ate pizza and ice cream. Very tame and non-sexual, I assure you,” she promised.

“I won't be allowing that again,” he informed her.

“Jameson, you can't me tell who I can and can't spend time with,” she pointed out.

“
Wrong
.”

She licked her lips and leaned forward.

“I actually have something to ask you. A favor,” she started, twiddling her fingers. He groaned and let his eyes fall shut.

“Just some sex. That's all I want out of life, money and sex. Why is sex the difficult one?” he breathed, dropping his head onto the back of his chair.

See? Just sex. That's all you are to him. Just sex, and eventually, he'll get bored and -

No. He's upset that you were with Ang. He's upset that you weren't with him. He cares.

FUCK, now I'm arguing with MYSELF. I need medication.

“I promise, I will give you sex any time you want, all the sex you can handle, if you'll give me a couple days,” Tate told him. Jameson lifted his head.

“What's your game, baby girl?” he asked softly. She shook her head.

“No game. I just want to borrow your condo,” she said. His eyes got wide.

“You want to borrow my condo? Well, gee, as long as you promise to bring it back,” he replied snidely. She rolled her eyes.

“I will. Just a few days.”

“
Why?
”

“Because Nick is in town.”

Jameson stood out of his chair and moved towards her quickly. Tate leapt up as well, moving away from him, putting the desk in between them. She had expected this part. Jameson always got mad at first, but then he usually capitulated. She could handle this, she just had to stay out of his grip long enough. If he caught her, sex was imminent, and when they had sex, he could get her to say and do anything he wanted. If she withheld sex, sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – she could get what she wanted. And then have sex. Win-win, really.

“You want to spend the night with
Angier
. You want to spend a couple days with Nick, in
my
condo. Anyone else you plan on fucking before I get my turn?” he asked, casually circling the desk. She kept skittering away.

“No, I think that's it.”

“
Tatum
.”

“I didn't sleep with Ang. I'm not going to sleep with Nick – he's going to stay in his own place. He's just visiting, and I know you won't want him at the house, so -,” she started.

“
No shit
.”

“So, I thought maybe I could take a vacation,” she suggested. Jameson's eyebrows went up and he stopped moving.

“A vacation?” he asked. She nodded, standing in between his chair and his desk.

“Yes. Things are ..., confusing for me, right now. I thought maybe some space would help,” she said in a small voice.

“Ah. This is about the other night. Your talk with Sanders,” he filled in. She shrugged.

“A lot of things. Sometimes it feels like you take me over, and when I remember the bad stuff, it's like I'm drowning. I just want some time. You told me I needed to figure shit out. That's what I want to do,” she stressed.

“And how does darling Nick figure into this?” Jameson asked.

“He doesn't, really, just gave me the idea to get away,” she replied. “I won't sleep with him. I won't even touch him. We're just friends, hanging out.”

“He's not coming into my fucking condo,” Jameson snapped, and Tate smiled. She had won.

“Of course not.”

“How come all your friends are men, huh? What happened to the tiny red head?” he demanded.

“Rusty? She's in school,” she replied.

“Well, introduce
her
to your baseball player – tell him he needs a new fucking friend. I am
not
okay with this, Tatum,” he growled, prowling towards her. She held her ground.

“I know, that's why it means a lot that you let me do it,” she replied.

“Just keep that in mind –
I'm
letting you do this,” he reinforced the notion. She nodded.

“It's just a few days, Jameson,” she pointed out.

“I have worked very hard for every day I've spent with you. I am not accustomed to giving some up,” he replied. She felt warm inside.

“That's very sweet.”

“Shut the fuck up. You better have shit figured out after this, because you will be coming back home, regardless of your boy-toy's feelings or yours,” he snapped. She nodded.

“I'm okay with that.”

“I
do not
like this, Tatum. I don't want to do this.”

“But you will, for me.”

“For you.”

He was standing in front of her, so close they were almost touching. He stared down the length of his nose at her, and the look of disdain he usually wore was front-and-center. She smiled at him. Reached out and straightened his tie.

“You're such shit at this,” she mumbled, adjusting his tie-pin. He grabbed her hand.

“Sanders is coming with you,” he informed her.

“Really? You wouldn't mind?” she asked, surprised. Sometimes she wondered if Jameson would be able to survive without Sanders.

“You can't be left alone in the world without a babysitter.
No getting him drunk,
” Jameson growled. She laughed.

“That was all him. I just made the drinks,” she pointed out.

“You are a bad influence,” he said.

“What, on Sandy?”

“On
all
of us.”

“Duh.”

He yanked her close and kissed her, and she moaned. They hadn't had sex since before the night Sanders got drunk, over two days ago. A long time, in their terms. He shoved her backwards against his desk and she fell onto it. She didn't even have time to find her balance before he was leaning onto her, his tongue invading her mouth. She moaned again, clawing her nails down his back.

“You sure you just slept next to
Angier?
” he growled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Next to him, on top of him, po-TATE-o, po-TOT-o,” she laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“I can
smell him
on you. God, I wanna hold you under a hot shower till your skin turns red,” he hissed. She shuddered, combing her fingers through his hair.

“Sounds exciting,” she whispered. He grabbed her throat then, pinned her to the desk.

“
Stop fucking talking
.”

“You're the one getting turned on by smelling Ang,” she pointed out. His fingers squeezed harder.

“I always did love fucking a whore.”

She couldn't stand it. She began clawing at the buttons on his vest, trying to undo them while his hands ran under her shirt, pushed it up over her breasts. She let out a gasp when he sucked on a nipple, through her bra. She moaned, her head hitting the desk. She felt like she was going to explode. He hadn't even hardly touched her, and she was ready to pop.

She knew it was a bad idea, to have sex. Not with her emotions all over the place. She would probably wind up screaming that she loved him, then cry like a girl afterwards. He would love it, fuck her again, and then leave her a broken mess. He would've gotten what he wanted, won the game. She wasn't ready, not yet. But she couldn't stop. She pressed her hips up against his, felt the bulge in his pants, and wanted to feel more. Her fingers wouldn't stop moving. She left his vest and trailed her hands down to his belt, began yanking at it.

“
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.