Her Titans by Genevieve Jasper
Madelaine
3
Work on Monday absolutely drags. I love my job, but some days seem to last a week, especially when I can’t stop my mind wandering to amazing orgasms in incredible cars and dingy bars. My mood switches between feeling euphoric when I remember the last two Saturdays and being confused as to who I’ve become. I’m not the girl who has one-night stands. As much as I tried to convince Lia I was, I wasn’t convincing her or myself, really. I feel like there’s an angel Madelaine on one shoulder, and a devil Amelia on the other who is kicking Madelaine’s heavenly butt. Am I just trying to prove the point that I can be wild?
Even as I think that, I know it’s not the case. I actually wanted to sleep with a stranger. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’ve never been brave enough. To be honest, I’ve never been so attracted to someone that I couldn’t wait to get to know them and find a bed before I mounted them. With Jed, our relationship didn’t have this fiery passion. We got together so young and then stayed together because we hadn’t found a reason not to be. Yes, we had sex, because it was what couples did. I never initiated it or felt sexy around him. Atlas awakens something in me that I didn’t even know was there. He makes me feel brave, powerful, and so sexy that I can make a guy like him lose control. Yes, I know I’m not hideous, but most people aren’t and Jed never hyped me up. I guess he was as used to me as I was to him. Like furniture that you’re so used to being there, you don’t even really see it anymore.
I’m brought out of my inner monologue (accompanied by tiny violin) by Kacey wandering out of the office next to mine, followed by her client. My former assistant almost exclusively uses her outside voice inside, so you can’t help but eavesdrop on her conversations. I refuse to feel bad about it. Jason recently gave her the opportunity to be a trainee architect, which I’m super happy about. We used to be close but since she moved up she’s had this weird competitive energy which I can’t entertain; there’s room for every successful woman in the workplace.
“I just need this restaurant to be incredible, Kacey. I’m surprised I snapped it up at all with the rate the Titans are claiming real estate around here,” the client says in a voice far too whiny for someone his age.
“I know, as if we need more criminals around here,” she agrees as they walk to the elevator waiting at the bank. Kacey returns when she’s dismissed her client and plonks herself in the chair opposite me without invitation.
“Mr Kane moaning about real estate again, it’s not the Titan's fault he takes a full month to make the tiniest decision.” She rolls her eyes, changing her tune completely from moments ago. I studiously ignore her, but she ignores me ignoring her and continues on, our usual routine when she wants to gossip.
“Apparently they’ve moved into the city and are taking over all the businesses. Everyone thinks it’s a front for their dodgy activity.”
“Everyone thinks, or everyone knows? It sounds like an excuse for Mr Kane’s terrible business sense,” I say. I wouldn’t normally speak unprofessionally about a client, but he was a hideous sleaze and was always making slimy comments about Kacey working for him personally.
“Well, my friend Sarah’s friend Jessica heard from her nail girl Jade that they’re fitter than gods themselves. Said she’d let any of them do criminal things to her.”
I stare at her blankly, trying to unpack that sentence as she continues on her third... or fourth-hand gossip tirade. “The Vipers aren’t happy about it, apparently. Mr Kane says we’ll be lucky if there’s not a gang war on our streets within weeks.”
“This isn’t a movie, Kace. We’re not surrounded by heroes and villains.”
“You should hope so, cause they’d all be villains from what I’ve heard.”
Jason saves me from having to find a response to that, thank God. “Hey Lai, got a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” Kacey stays in my spare seat, studying her nails. “In your office?”
He rolls his eyes at her. “I guess so.”
I follow him to his office and shut the door behind me.
“We’ve got a new pitch, and I thought I’d give it to my star if you want it,” he says, getting straight to the point.
My turn to roll my eyes. “Flattery means something bad.”
“It’s just a refurb in town. Plus, I know how much you love the place.”
“Where?”
“Encore.”
“Oh, cool. What’s the bad news then?”
He attempts to give me puppy dog eyes but can’t quite pull them off, so I stare at him flatly.
“They want to start the refurb within the month so pitches are due ASAP, and I’d like them in by Wednesday so they don’t have a chance to find someone else before they see ours,” he reams out in one breath.
“Jesus, two days? You’re lucky I love that place. And you, but you owe me.” I stand, actually excited to get stuck into a new project so close to my vodka- and dance-loving heart.
“Add it to the list of favours you’ve clocked up. Good thing you never cash them in or I might go bankrupt. I’m sending the deliverables to you now,” he says, turning to the computer and clicking away before I’ve even left.
I head back to my office buzzing with ideas about the refurb. Could I add a new cocktail menu to the requirements? It took me weeks to coax a French martini out of them. Kacey is, of course, still lounging where I left her. “Kace, I’ve got a big job on so I need to get back to work, if you don’t mind?”
“Fine, I’ll go hang with the other minions,” she says petulantly
I ignore that comment. “Bye, Kace.”
It’s Saturday night and I am so far past tipsy. It’s Lia’s birthday so we’ve dressed up and completed a cocktail bar crawl that ends here at Encore, of course. I’m dressed way out of my comfort zone in something skin-tight and tiny, although the high neck offsets some of the flesh on display. It’s sleeveless, and the section that would normally sit over my left thigh and hip has been replaced with sparkly tassels. I love it and it didn’t take Lia much guilt-tripping to get me to go all-out for her big day. My hair is sleek and down my back, with my signature smoky eye darker than normal to compliment the black dress. Finished off with my Louboutins and I feel a million dollars.
I feel Atlas’s presence on my back and smell his smoky aftershave before I see him. The drinks lift my confidence so I press back into him, continuing to sway my hips to the music when I should be running in the other direction. Devil Lia - 3, Angel Lai - 0.
“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” he murmurs in my ear.
“I’m sure you’ve been pining,” I reply sarcastically, spinning to face him. I don’t know what it is, but he makes me want to constantly agitate him. He cuts off any more potential sass with a forceful kiss that doesn’t end until my arms are around his neck, my body pressed against his. He breaks apart from me and attempts to pull me along behind him but in my inebriated state I trip over my own feet and nearly face plant the floor. His hands appear suddenly on my upper arms, steadying me.
“You’re drunk,” he says, amused.
“You’re observant,” I fire back.
He changes course and instead pushes me against the wall slightly off the dance floor, in a more secluded corner.
“I’d like to see you try to sass me with your mouth filled with my cock.”
God, that’s hot. He kisses me again, running his hand up the outside of my thigh. I arch into him, feeling the evidence against my stomach that he’s just as turned on as I am. His words light a fire inside me, and feeling reckless I reach between us and stroke him through his trousers. His considerable size is still obvious through his clothes. He pulls my hand away while still stroking the bare skin of my hip. That feels massively unfair to me, so I wiggle my hand from his and grab him again.
“Not that I wouldn’t happily fuck you right here and make everyone watch, but you’re way too drunk,” he says against my lips, too reluctant to pull away from the kiss completely.
“You don’t seem like a guy with solid morals,” I pout childishly.
“Ouch,” he replies, grabbing my hip so that his thumb grazes under my dress and along my bikini line. “No underwear?” he asks, and it’s a wonder I can think straight with my fuzzy alcohol brain short-circuiting every time his thumb sweeps over the sensitive skin where my underwear should be.
“Maybe somebody else already pocketed them.” Okay, so sarcasm is muscle memory at this point.
“You’d better hope that’s not fucking true, baby.” There must be something wrong with me because the murderous look in his eyes makes everything down south clench.
“Where have you been?” he asks. I roll my eyes, not about to explain myself to a man, but he doesn't let me get away with it. “Keep it up, baby. I'll happily spank that attitude out of you.”
Lia interrupts while I try to pick my jaw up off the floor. Dirty talk is definitely a newfound turn-on for me.
“Lai, there you are. Photo time!” she squeals.
I grab Atlas’s arms and try to step in front of him for the obligatory prom photo, but I really am quite drunk as he so helpfully pointed out, and I pitch forward. At least I trip on his feet this time, much more respectable than tripping on my own. He catches me around the waist and I laugh.
“Maybe we should sit,” he suggests, walking me back a few steps to the sofa lining the edge of the room. He sits and pulls me into his lap, where I happily settle myself, crossing my legs in between his thighs.
“Thanks,” I beam down at him, getting a returning smile that could rival the sun. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile properly before, a smirk normally playing on his lips.
“You should smile more often,” I tell him.
“There are plenty of ways you could make me,” he returns.
“Okay, all done,” Lia declares, having apparently been snapping pictures the whole time. She hands the phone to me, but Atlas intercepts it and takes it from her.
“Birthday nights have to be documented, it’s the rule,” she explains to him.
Atlas scrolls to a photo of us from seconds before, me perched in his lap, him with one arm around my waist and the other hand in the space my dress leaves on my thigh. I’m speechless as I stare at the photo of us smiling at each other while eye-fucking. I can’t believe it’s me in that photo. I can't believe it's us. He swipes to another, from when I tripped. I’m leaning forward, laughing my head off while he grabs my waist from behind, looking down at me. His gaze is soft, adoring. It’s too much for my brain to handle right now. Did that drunken fumble mean more than I realised?
“I’m going to the toilet,” I blurt, standing from his hold and practically running to the bathroom. Lia follows me a couple of minutes later and finds me leaning against the counter, effectively hiding.
“What took you so long?” I ask, whining.
“He wanted me to send him the photos,” she shrugs.
“So now he has your contact details?”
“Calm down, loon, I airdropped them. You want to make a run for it?”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to end your birthday because of my freak-out.”
“A completely unnecessary freak-out. Those photos were so hot! But I’m ready to call it a night anyway, this place closes soon and Caus just texted to say he’s home.”
“If you’re sure?” I ask, feeling guilty.
“Absolutely. Let me order an Uber and we’ll see if we can convince them to go through the drive-thru. It is my birthday, after all.”
I laugh at her, feeling my freak out disappear thanks to my incredible best friend.