by L. B. Dunbar
We both moan.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he says.
“You’re absolutely right,” I reply, only my mouth keeps moving over his.
My skirt rises under his hand. His waistband lowers underneath mine.
His palm reaches between my legs, and mine slips into his shorts.
Fingers enter me, and I cry out, “Don’t stop.”
My hand tugs at him. “Harder,” he commands.
We’re all heavy breaths and teasing touches, and then my underwear falls to my ankles and his shorts slide down his hips. He’s gone commando, so he’s lined up at my entrance, and I’m squeezing the firmness of his ass with both hands.
“Are you sure about this?” he mutters.
“Don’t you dare quit,” I snap, desperate to feel him inside me, feel what he could do to me. I’m on edge. I’m on fire. I’m…so full as he thrusts upward, sliding easily into me. I coat him in my wetness, which practically drips down my thighs. I’m soaked and willing and want this more than I should.
We’re total strangers.
I know nothing about him, yet this…this feels like I’ve been missing him my entire life.
Charlie grips the back of one thigh and hitches my leg higher against his hip. His knees are bent as he pummels into me, over and over, filling me with the roughness of his thrusts. The fence rattles at my back, setting a background beat to our sexing.
“Oh God,” Charlie exhales into my neck, and my fingers clutch at his ass, holding him to me. The fingertips of one hand dig into my raised thigh, and his others clutch at a butt cheek. We slip, and we slide as my channel strokes at his length. I’m so close but not yet, and I’m afraid he’ll finish before me. Richard always did, walking away satisfied before I was.
Fumbling in the dark, Charlie slips a hand between us. It’s awkward and desperate, but he knows what he’s doing as his fingers rub my clit.
“I…oh, God.” What’s this? I’ve never had it like this. He’s moving within me and working the nub outside of me, and I’m a bundle of nerve endings ready to burst. “Right there, Charlie.”
Stating his name brings his mouth to mine, and it’s all over for me. I groan against his lips with his tongue in my mouth and his dick buried inside me. With the addition of those fingers… I’m just a puddle, melting as I come undone like I’ve never come before.
“Jan,” he says, and I still, but he doesn’t notice. He thrusts once, twice, and then halts, holding himself inside me, only one part of him jolting.
Reality returns to him slowly while I’m stiff as a board with my back to the fence.
My name. It’s not right, but he thinks it’s something else.
“Shit, I didn’t use a condom.” He nearly falls out of me, tugging free so quickly, I falter even with the fence at my back. His hand grasps my upper arm, but I shrug him off me.
I’m not upset with him. I don’t feel violated. I’m not even mad at the lack of a contraceptive.
“I’m on the pill,” I mutter, bending for my underwear and then stepping out of it altogether. I stand upright, feeling shame.
How could I do this?
And why did I like it?
I’ll never admit the truth about any of it.
“Another bend and snap,” he teases, but there’s no humor in his voice as he pulls his shorts back into place and swipes a hand over his head, tugging at his ball cap. We can hardly see each other in the soft glow of the moon somewhere, and I wonder if it’s for the best.
I reach up and snap my fingers in front of his face like a magic trick.
“Just the snap,” I say in my best spooky voice as I slip through the open gate and run toward the coach house. I hear my name called out.
“Jan!”
It’s all wrong.
6
Office Antics
[Charlie]
I totally fucked up, but I loved fucking her. It’s the first crazy thing I’ve done in years.
Uptight. Rigid. Goody Two-shoes Charlie. That was me. I always followed the rules. I always did what I was told. I wasn’t spontaneous, which suited Angela just fine. We had sex penciled in on a calendar. No lie.
But what I’d done with Jan had been one of the most unplanned and unexpected acts of my life. It was incredible, and then she ran away.
Why did she do that?
Perhaps it was nailing her up against a fence, my brain scolds for the millionth time in three days. I haven’t seen Jan anywhere, and any attempts I’ve made to walk the Lane down to Cora Conrad’s have been thwarted.
Take this morning, for instance. I was hoping to slip out of the house earlier only to find Lucy and Vega sitting at the kitchen island eating breakfast.
“Hey, Dad,” Lucy says to me as I stop at the sight of the two girls. They could be twins from the back with the same long dark hair and thin bodies. Only Vega has the permanent tan Lucy needs to work at with her paler skin.
“Good morning, ladies,” I address them both as I cross the kitchen for the coffeepot. Rosa isn’t present, but she’s made quite the spread for these two girls. My lips curl over the edge of my coffee cup, but my eyes hover over the rim at Vega. With those bright green eyes, she looks just like her mother. Feeling me watching her, she looks up at me, and I clear my throat.
“Vega, how did get here this morning? Did your mother drop you off?” I hate that I’m fishing for information from a ten-year-old, but I’m curious. Not only how she got here so early but also where do they live.
Vega’s brows pinch, another look so similar to her mother.
“I walked,” she says like it should be obvious to me and as simple as that. She holds my gaze all innocent as if it wouldn’t be miles from town or anywhere else for that matter.
“Walked from where?” I press.
“My grandparents’ place.” Her voice is light as she returns to her pancakes for another bite.
I stare at her, still wanting more details. I wait until she glances up at me again, and Vega tips her head.
“Rosa. Henri.” She states their names slowly, almost like a question. “They’re my grandparents. We live with them now.”
If Rosa and Henri are her grandparents, and Jan is her mother, that means…
“You live here?” Here, as in on my own property?
My eyes drift to Rosa who stands just within the kitchen entrance from the back hallway. It takes another minute for things to settle in.
“Jan is your daughter?” My voice rises as I stare at Rosa, who rubs a hand over the towel wrapped over her arm. She’s been my housekeeper for a dozen years. We don’t speak about personal stuff although she knows almost everything about me. She mentioned something about her daughter coming to visit, but her name was not Jan, and Rosa certainly never mentioned she looked like she does. She also didn’t mention she was staying long enough to seek a job, which suggests permanency.
Which also means she wasn’t visiting Cora that night like I thought but heading to her home—on my property.
“Your daughter is Jan?” I repeat the question as Rosa’s dark eyes shift to the side. Her hand increases the speed in which she strokes over the towel.
“My daughter is Nessa,” Rosa corrects, and I recall hearing the name.
I glance back at the child. “I’m so confused,” I admit, and the ten-year-old lowers her fork to her plate and bites her lips.
“My mother’s name is Janessa. Nessa is her nickname. She wants to be called Jan since we moved here.”
What the fuck?
My thoughts race back to the morning I found her in my room. What was she doing in my room?
“Does she work here?” I gasp, not meaning to sound offensive but knowing I do.
Oh, my God. This would be more than a sexual harassment complaint. This would mean sexual harassment as her employer. I had sex with her. I fucked her against a fence.
My heart races within my chest, and then I take a deep breath.
Wait.
Wait! m
y head screams.
We had consensual sex. She wanted me. I felt it. The way she clung to me. The way she clutched at my dick. The way she took me inside her.
I stiffen, and the wayward appendage stands at attention, rejoicing in the memories, but my heart squeezes in my chest.
She must hate me.
I scrub a hand down my face.
“Where’s your mother now?”
“She got a job. Today is her first day,” Vega announces, glancing over at her grandmother with a cautious gaze as though she might have told me too much.
Rosa proudly beams, continuing to explain what Vega offered. “She works for the town. She’s the new Parks and Recreation person. She work for you, Mr. Charlie.” Rosa smiles, pride in her broken English and excitement in her face as dread fills my belly.
I’m so fucked.
Yes, you were, and you enjoyed every minute of it.
+ + +
I need to rectify this. It’s what I do best. It’s why I’m a lawyer first and the mayor second. I need to mend.
“Charity, can you get Ms. Cruz to meet me in my office?” It’s almost the end of a workday, and Charity will be leaving soon. I don’t need her to overhear what I must say to Jan…to Nessa…to whatever the fuck her name is.
Charity enters my office a few minutes later. “I’m sorry, Charlie. She says she can’t today.” Her brow pinches. People don’t normally deny me. The town council meets when I ask. I’m not domineering, but I’m also not denied.
“Call her back. As her new boss, tell her I demand it.”
Charity’s brow lifts as her hands wrap around the doorframe. She’s giving me a quizzical eye while a small smile curls her lip. She’s still looking at me after I’ve turned to my computer and then glance back at her from my desk.
“Charity?”
She blinks, clearing her focus and swiftly looking away. “Yes. Of course. You demand it.” Smoothing a hand over her hip, she turns for her desk in the outer office and tugs my door closed behind her. Once she leaves, I fall back into my desk chair, which rocks and pivots. My sight falls to the open mini-blinds and the late-afternoon sunshine streaming into my office. I’ve been on edge all day, planning out my apology and how to diplomatically explain how what we did can never happen again.
Then someone walks into my office unannounced.
“Mr. Harrington,” she states, a curtness to her tone as I turn to face her. “Sir.”
Fuck. When she calls me that, I want to bend her over this desk. My eyes roam her body as I swing my chair to face her direction.
Goddammit, she’s wearing the same skirt from the day of the interview. Cherry red and hugging her hips, it perfectly sculpts that fine ass I had my hands on the other night and tapers over her legs, one of which was hitched against my hip as I drove into her.
“Ms. Cruz,” I say as I stand. “If that’s really your name.”
Jan’s hands come together before her as she turns her head to glance over her shoulder.
“Close the door,” I command. Her lips twist, but she steps back for it and presses it shut.
The sound of the click is like a shot in the dark. I race around my desk, rushing up to her and pressing her into the barrier.
“Who the hell are you?” I mutter as her backside rests against my front, and her hands brace up against the door.
“My name is Janessa… Janessa Cruz. It’s my maiden name.”
“Are you married?” I feel sick. Dear God, don’t let her have a husband.
“Divorced.”
Stepping back, I allow her enough space to spin and face me with fire in those green eyes. A forest fire has nothing on the scorch she’s giving me.
“Your mother works for me,” I state the obvious.
“Please leave my mother out of this,” she says, her voice cracking. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Why were you in my bedroom?” I ask, finally hoping for an answer.
“Mami needed to take Papi to the doctor. She told me you weren’t home and wouldn’t know who picked up your room.” Her head hangs a bit. Is she ashamed of her mother’s profession? Is she embarrassed she cleaned my room? Should I be?
“Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Oh, really, Nessa? Omission is the same thing.”
She turns her head, so her eyes face the other side of the room. My fingers come to her chin and force her attention back to me.
“Don’t look away from me. Tell me the truth.”
“I’m divorced, like I said. Coming here was the possibility of a fresh start, so I shortened my name.” She pauses as my eyes search hers.
What is she hiding from me? What is she hiding from herself?
Her chest heaves, and I hear the rustle of her loose blouse over her breasts. My fingers still pinch her chin.
“I like Nessa better. It suits you.”
“You know nothing about me,” she snaps without sass. Her tone is one of defeat. An animal trapped. I don’t want to trap her. I want to help.
“I want to apologize. The other night—”
Two fingers cut me off as they cover my lips, and her eyes close. She swallows, and I watch the roll of her throat. Her neck. Her long, pretty, needs-to-be-kissed neck.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask, my voice dropping.
“Don’t take it away. It won’t happen again. Just… don’t ruin what happened.”
My eyes hold hers, feeling the same way. I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to forget it. And it definitely should not happen again, I think as my hand reaches around her for the doorknob, and I turn the lock in the handle.
Another click, and it’s like a whistle blew. Play ball! We lunge for one another, mouths crashing and teeth colliding.
“Ow,” she mutters against my lips.
“Sorry,” I mumble, but her hands are already curling in the short length of my hair at the back of my head, and my hand slips down her back to her ass. “My God, you’re fucking perfect.”
She hums into my lips, and I tug her to me. Her other hand clutches at my dress shirt. I yank her shirt out of her skirt, my hand desperate to get to a breast. Fingers curl into the cup of her bra, and I tug it down under the soft material of her shirt. She bites at my lip, and I pinch her nipple. She yelps, and I swallow the sound, pressing her into the door at her back.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she mutters as her mouth comes to my jaw, and my fingers feel the weight of her heavy breast in my hand, voluptuous and spilling over the edge of my palm. I love it.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” I state, lowering my mouth for that throat and licking her skin before sucking at it. I’m aware of where we stand. In my office. A public office. My secretary is on the other side of the door, yet nothing could pull me away from the woman in my arms.
She groans as I nip at her neck. “You must be quiet,” I warn, and she nods as her hands lower for my belt. My fingers reach for the hem of her skirt.
“It has to go down,” she whispers as she sucks on my jaw.
“What?”
“My hips are too big. I can’t tug it up. It has to go down,” she explains as she pulls back, her eyes meeting mine for a second. I reach behind her and lower the zipper along her ass. Then I push at the two sides and look down to find the thinnest scrap of fabric covering her in a lace so transparent it hides nothing.
“You wear that under your clothing?” I didn’t see what she wore the other night because it was too dark. Today, my office is bright, and I get a good look at what I missed the other evening.
“I like pretty things,” she says softly, and my mouth crashes against hers for a second before I pull back and tell her, “You’re a pretty thing.”
Her eyes narrow at me. She didn’t like that compliment, and to prove it, her hand slips into my pants, palming my dick, and then lowers to squeeze my balls. Fuck, that feels good.
“Ready for me?” I tease.
“Been thinking of you for days,” she admits, and I can’t take it. It’s been the same for me. My fingers slip out of her, and I grip myself, teasing her entrance as her hands slip to my ass. She squeezes, and I push into her, filling her to the hilt. In her heels, we almost match up. Almost. And fuck, does she feel good.
We thrust, and we rock, biting lips and whispering shushes. Our breaths catch as I hammer into her. She lifts a leg as she did the other night, and her fingers return to curl into my hair. I pick her up under her ass, and her legs circle my hips. Struggling to cross the room with my pants near my thighs, I set her on my desk and then press her back, leaning over her.
It’s broad daylight, and I’m fucking her on my desk in my office.
It’s insane, absurd, and totally out of character for me, yet I can’t get deep enough, can’t drive hard enough. I reach between us and stroke over the spot that made her wild the other night.
“I-I like that,” she stutters as we rock on my desk. She reaches up for my shirt, fisting it in her fingers as her head lifts, and she stills.
“Charlie.” My name is breathless on her lips as she falls apart around me, clenching me within her, and I break as well.
Holy shit. Stars dance before my eyes despite the early evening sun in the room. My arms shake, holding me over her. Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room, and then a knock comes to my door.
“Charlie,” Charity calls out. “Charlie, are you okay in there?”
“Shit,” I hiss, withdrawing from Jan—Nessa—too quickly. A suction sound resonates, and Janessa pushes at my chest. Scrambling off my desk, she races to the other side of the room. Her heels still on. Her thong disappearing between two globes of perfection. She bends over for her skirt, and my dick is coming to life again.
I need to get it together, I think as she looks up at me, and I point at the bathroom off my office. My fingers fumble with my shirt, tucking it back into my pants and struggling to refasten my belt. I swipe a hand through my hair and then cross the room for my office door. Taking a deep breath, I smell the evidence of Janessa and me together, and I close my eyes for a second.