CAITLIN
Day Three
I tugged at the petals of a centerpiece, distracting myself from today's tenth interview. Since seven o'clock this morning, I'd sat next to Bea in a cold conference room, answering questions for a revolving door of reporters.
Most of the questions so far were about de Leon Industries, and I was hoping it would stay that way. The few that did address our personal lives were light and simple: Why send a company memo about the engagement? How long have you two been in love? Will you continue working for Ms. de Leon once you're married?
I was only halfway paying attention to the questions at this point. I was still having a hard time getting the images of Bea's cock out of my mind. Last night (and the night before), I'd fantasized about her fucking me for hours, all while burying my fingers deep in my pussy and whispering her name into my pillow.
Even though I'd been giving her the silent treatment since yesterday morning, I knew that being so close to her outside of the office was already becoming a problem. I'd never been so on edge, and she was driving my hormones into a heated frenzy.
"Thank you two so much for your time," the reporter from The Wall Street Journal suddenly stood to his feet. "I hope you'll allow my team and me another interview in a couple of months after you're back from your honeymoon."
"Of course," Bea said, shaking his hand.
"Since I'm the last interviewer, can I take a picture of you two for my piece, ma'am?" he asked. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, that is."
"That's up to the future Mrs. De Leon," Bea said, looking at me. "She's been giving me the silent treatment since yesterday morning, so you may want to ask her."
I kicked her under the table and smiled at the reporter. "I'd love to take a photo for your piece. The lighting is better outside, though. Do you mind if we step out there?"
"Not at all."
I shot Bea a look, and I stood up. As we walked to the door, she placed her hand on the small of my back, instantly setting my nerves on fire.
"Where are you two going?" Deanna stood up from a bench as we stepped outside.
"The Wall Street Journal wants to take our photo," Bea said.
"Oh, good! This is the perfect opportunity for you to finally kiss each other, then. I think that would be a great first photo, especially with this publication. Just make it look believable, please."
"I don't think that's a good idea at all..." I said.
"And why is that?" Bea looked down at me.
"Because he said it needs to be believable." I lied, knowing it was a brilliant idea and that I wanted to do it. "I also still need a few more days – actually weeks, to forget that you're my boss... and an asshole."
"Right here is good!" The reporter turned around and set up his tripod. "Could you two back up a bit and stand a little closer to the fountain? And sorry, Deanna, but I don't really need you in this one."
Bea kept her hand on the small of my back, and I forced a smile.
The reporter adjusted his lens a few more times and then he held up his fingers. "Snapping your picture in three... two..."
Before he could reach one, Bea spun me around and pulled against her chest. She stamped her mouth over mine – kissing me so deep and suddenly, I forgot to breathe.
