My pussy was so wet it ached for him. I closed my eyes and waited for him, bit my lip and knew he wouldn’t be gentle.
He grunted as he thrust into me roughly, sliding one hand around to my front and up to my breast. Squeezing it hard, he kissed my neck as though he was trying to devour me. He delivered great long flicks of his tongue before biting the soft skin of my throat as though he was claiming me. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, carrying just enough force to let me know who the boss was really.
Thrusting harder, he drove his cock deep inside me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Knowing that people were right outside my door and might hear us fucking like animals was enough to ratchet the pleasure up to near unbearable levels.
“Harder,” I said through gritted teeth.
He wasted no time giving me what I wanted. He bent me completely over my desk and pushed himself even deeper inside me. I let out an involuntary moan, and he clapped a hand over my mouth, admonishing me to be quiet.
I slammed myself backward into his hips, desperate to feel his whole length. Slowly, he lowered his hand from my mouth, his palm coming away wet with my breath. He slid it down my body then rested it over my stomach for a second, as though he was imagining his cock buried inside me. Then he moved his fingers lower, gently placing them over my clit.
“Promise you won't make a sound,” he whispered in my ear as he continued to fuck me, the only noise between our bodies the smacking sound of our skin meeting with each thrust.
“I promise,” I breathed.
It took all the strength in the world not to scream when he began to rub my clit in slow, sensuous circles that soon turned into frantic strokes as he massaged me harder until my legs gave way beneath me. I buckled at the knees as I shuddered, my whole body going limp from the waist down. My breath came in short gasps as my muscles spasmed, the pleasure so bright I thought I’d go blind.
“You like that?” he whispered in my ear, pressing himself against my back.
“Oh God yes.”
“You want more?”
I didn't know if my body could handle it, but I wanted all he could give me. “Yes.”
He paused for a second, enticing me, making me even more desperate. I looked over my shoulder and met his eyes, which sparkled with the lustful delight that came from teasing me. He stroked the side of my face so gently it was barely a touch at all. Pressing his lips to my temple, he kissed me softly and lovingly.
“Please, just fuck me,” I begged in a whisper.
He tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed me again. There was a look in his eyes that said don't tell me what to do. I'm the boss here. I stared at him for what felt like an eternity, willing him to enter me. My pussy was swollen and dripping as I reached an almost physical pain of arousal.
“You're torturing me,” I whimpered, but that only made the look on his face intensify.
“Are you sure you want me to fuck you harder?” he murmured in my ear, his breath like a shock wave of electricity that traveled down my neck. I silently nodded. “Then that's what you're gonna get.”
He waited for another second, just long enough to make me feel as though my pussy was catching fire. Then he thrust into me as fast and hard as his body would allow him. I was instantly engulfed in a whirlwind of pleasure that forced me to bite down on my lip with such force I was sure it would bleed. My already weak legs became numb, my knees doing nothing to hold the weight of my shaking body.
“I'm gonna make you come,” he groaned in my ear as he rubbed my clit. “I'm gonna make you come so fucking hard.”
All it took was for me to hear those words and I was toppling over the precipice of control. A thundering orgasm raged through me as my pussy throbbed and contracted around his cock. I wanted to thrash and scream, but he was still holding my wrists behind my back, still imploring me with his eyes to hold my silence.
All I could do was let out a weak whimper as I violently shook against him.
“Fuuuuuck,” he uttered in a low rumble as he gripped my wrists hard enough to leave marks. “Oh, God what are you doing to me? I'm...Oh fuck, I'm...”
His hips shuddered as he came deep inside me, his mouth pressed against my neck as his cock twitched as it filled me with his seed.
From down the hall, I could hear Sandra talking to someone, but I didn't want to think about her. Didn't want to think about anyone or anything outside of this moment. I felt as though I didn't even belong in this world anymore. As though my body and the pleasure that filled it now inhabited some other plane of existence.
But I knew the moment had to come to an end, and with great reluctance, he slid out of me and pushed himself back into his boxer shorts.
At last, with his grip released on my wrists, I lowered my arms and turned around as blood flowed back into my hands. Lowering my skirt, I looked down and saw my knees tremble as the evidence of what we’d just done trickled down my legs.
Outside, Sandra's voice grew louder, and we looked at each other in a panic.
“Matthew? Are you in there?” she called out as she knocked on the locked door.
He quickly zipped up his pants and I hurried to return to my seat, turning to my computer screen. He reached over and unlocked the door, and she waltzed in immediately.
“Oh, hey Matthew,” Sandra said. “I've been looking for you. I have the files from accounting.”
“Okay, great. I'll have a look in a second,” Matthew replied.
The atmosphere in the air tightened, as though our secret was ready to be burst wide open. I worried my face would give me away, so I steadfastly stared at my computer screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandra look suspiciously from me to Matthew, then back to me again.
“Right. Well, I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing.” She closed the door and we both let out a sigh of relief.
“Fuck, that was close,” I said. “Ten seconds earlier and...” I cringed at the thought.
“That could have been a disaster,” he agreed.
“But it wasn’t.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was fucking incredible. You’re incredible Becca.” He bent down to stroke my hair and kiss my forehead.
“Still feel like a creep?” I joked.
“A little.” He edged toward the door, not wanting to leave but knowing that staying would only rouse more suspicion.
“I don't want to go, but I...”
“Gotta get back to work. I know.”
He smiled and turned the door handle.
“Wait. Your fly's undone.”
“Shit. Did Sandra see?”
“Let's hope not.”
He zipped it up with a guilty smile and kissed me once before leaving. As I heard the door click shut behind him, I relaxed back in my chair and took a deep breath. That was the greatest experience of my life, I thought. I want more. I would have rushed out of my office and right into Matthew's for round two if I could have.
“Get a grip of yourself and get back to work,” I said out loud.
Not that it was that easy. As I loaded up my files and tried to focus on work, nothing I looked at made sense and memories of Matthew and what he could do to my body kept popping into my thoughts.
This is useless, I thought as I decided to take a coffee break. I'm going insane. Like my brain is incapable of thinking of anything but him.
Exiting my office, I walked down to the little kitchen at the end of the hall and flipped on the coffee machine.
“Having a good day?” Sandra’s sour voice asked.
“Oh, hey, Sandra. How's it goin?”
“Great,” she replied, but her eyes didn't agree with the word, nor did her tone. “Just the usual. Busy, busy, busy.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I can see that.” There was no hiding the coldness in her voice or the suspicion in her eyes.
Shit. She knows. She has to. Then another thought entered my mind. It was you who followed us! You who took those photos. Who else could it be?
We stood for an excruciatingly awkward moment and stared at one another. Beside me, the coffee machine bubbled and spat as the room filled with the smell of espresso. When my cup was full, I grabbed it and headed for the door as quickly as possible.
“Gotta get back to my office,” I announced without stopping.
She narrowed her eyes at me and nodded. “Yeah, catch you later,” she sneered.
Matthew
What the fuck have I done?
Back at my desk, I felt as though I had plummeted back to reality.
You were supposed to break it off with her, you idiot. You literally did the fucking opposite of what you walked in there to do!
I couldn't believe I’d been so weak, or so stupid. I behaved like a brainless caveman thinking with his cock.
Okay, now you have to break it off, I thought to myself. Except you just had the best fuck of your life with her. Dump her now and you'll look like a royal asshole.
I didn’t know what to do. I prided myself on being a smart man, a good man. But since Becca had walked back into my life, I’d become a primitive being, ruled by my dick. But as much as I wanted to forget about seeing her, I knew it was impossible to get her out my head. As I sat there, balls aching from the orgasm of a lifetime, I still wanted more and had to stop myself from marching back to her office to fuck her again.
She's got her claws in you, I thought. She got into your head. Into your fucking soul.
But it wasn't just her incredible looks that drove me wild, although they obviously played a part. It was the look in her eyes when she wanted me, the way she twisted the power from her to me then back to her again. It was her ambition and intelligence and the way she reached out and grabbed what she wanted.
“Fuck me,” I heard her voice say in my head.
I had heard girls say it a hundred times before, but their voices were as hollow and devoid of genuine lust as the porn stars they emulated. When she said it, I could feel her need for me. Truly know that she craved my cock as much as she craved air.
“Get back to work,” I told myself. “You have a business to run.”
But as I looked at my computer screen, I saw nothing. My head was filled with her and nothing else.
“I'm losing my fucking mind,” I said out loud. Turning off my computer, I gave up trying to concentrate on the files I was supposed to be reading.
A drink is what you need. Something stiff and strong and full of ice will clear your head.
* * *
I was sitting in a back booth of the Riley Lounge on Duke Street sipping on a scotch and listening to a single jazz clarinet player on the stage. He was blowing into the thing as though he was pouring his heart into it, his cheeks bright red like shiny apples stuck to his face. My mind still hadn’t settled, but at least I wasn’t just down the hall from her. As I drank, I heard a voice I instantly recognized.
“Matthew? What are you doing here?”
I saw David standing with a vodka and tonic in his hand, the auburn glow of the art deco chandelier casting a halo around his head. At his side was his vintage leather briefcase, a gift from his mother when he’d passed the bar.
“Hey, aren't you supposed to be in court today?”
“Aren't you supposed to be at work? It's not like you to be drinking alone in the middle of the day.”
He took the seat beside me and looked up at the stage. The clarinetist had been joined by a singer who purred and shimmied around the stage in slow motion. She was singing a song about young love driving a kid crazy. It could have been written about me. Except I was no kid.
“Taking a time out,” I told David. “Needed some time to think.”
“Got a lot on your plate at the office?”
I took a sip of my drink and said, “Actually, it's woman trouble.”
“Woman trouble? For the love of fuck, tell me it's not Olivia.”
“Oh fuck no. That crazy bitch is long gone.”
“So who is it?”
“Ah, nobody you know.”
He sipped his vodka and winced, then moved his eyes back to the singer as she swayed her hips. She was caressing the mic stand as though it was her lover, her lips making love to the microphone. She was an attractive woman with great, swinging curves, a sculpted face, and raven black hair draped around her cheekbones.
She was the type of woman the rational side of my brain was telling me to be attracted to. Someone mature and worldly. But of course the rational side of my brain had withered and died at the sight of Becca.
“She's a real looker, isn't she?” David asked, nodding toward the singer.
“Meh.” I shrugged.
“Meh? Man, you really do have your head up your ass. Whoever this woman is must be really special.”
“She is.”
“So who is she?”
“Like I said, no one you know.”
He sipped his drink and gave me a wary sideways glance. “If she's so special, how come you haven't told us about her?” he asked, tinkling the ice around the bottom of his glass.
I shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“Shit. It's not your assistant, Sandra, is it? Wait, please tell me that baby isn't yours.”
“Whoa, calm down. It's not Sandra. Unlike my ex, I don’t fuck married people.”
“So who is it?”
I chuckled mirthlessly. “Jesus, you're really not letting this go, are you?”
“Nope. I'm a prosecutor, remember? Gotta have all the details. All the incriminating evidence.”
“What, am I on trial here or something?”
He laughed and swallowed the last of his drink before signaling the waitress to bring another. “I'm just confused,” he said. “How long have we known each other? Like twenty years?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Wow, you have a good memory. So yeah, twenty-two years. And you've told me about all the other women.”
“You make it sound like there was a long line of them.”
“I'm just saying it's weird. And it's not like you to keep stuff from your buddies. Afraid we'll steal her?”
I cringed at the thought. “No, nothing like that.”
“So, tell me who she is.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on!”
“No way. A gentleman is allowed to keep his secrets.” But the way I acted toward her was anything but gentlemanly.
“So, you're really not gonna tell me, huh? Fine.” He was pretending to joke, but I could see he was mildly annoyed. “Anyway,” he continued as the waitress appeared with his second drink. “You seen Bob recently?”
“Not in the last few days. Why?”
“Ah, no reason. It's just that he's really happy about Becca working for you. Won't stop yappin' on about it. Thinks it’s the best thing on Earth since sliced bread.”
I was instantly gripped with a nauseating guilt, and as he continued, the urge to vomit pressed against the back of my throat.
“He worries about Becca, you know? She's not a little girl anymore, but she'll always be his princess. Swear to God she's still five years old in his head.”
My gut plummeted. I didn't even know it was possible to feel so ashamed.
“He says he trusts you,” David added, and I wondered if he knew what was going on and was thrusting the knife in on purpose.
“Trusts me?”
“Yeah, like he's happy she's got you for a boss instead of some sleazebag. He knows how pretty he is. Knows that guys are always getting an eyeful of her. But not you, you know. He feels safe with her around you.”
My cheeks burned as I looked down into my scotch. Suddenly, it didn't seem so appetizing anymore, and I had no interest in hanging around. Like the shady, guilty bastard that I was, I wanted to slither out of the room and hide.
“You okay, Matthew? You're looking a little off.”
“I'm fine.”
“Really? Because you look like you're gonna throw up.”
“Yeah, I, uh, just gotta get
back to the office. Catch you later.”
I slammed my drink down and walked away knowing full well I was only making myself look even guiltier. And as I left the lounge, I was sure he could see inside my head and was positive he knew exactly what I was thinking.
That's it, you've officially gone nuts. David's a lawyer, not a freakin' psychic. He has no idea why you're acting so shifty.
Then why did he even bring up Becca? Did he suspect something? Was he fishing for info?
I speed-walked back to the office as though I was trying to run away from my own thoughts.
Paranoia doesn't suit you, Matthew. Get your shit together!
* * *
“What's up with you?” Sandra questioned the minute I walked into her sight.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You walked in here like your ass was on fire. Just thought I'd ask.”
“Just have a lot of work to do.” I strode passed her into my office, slamming the door closed behind me.
I had to get my head back in the game. I had to stop thinking about Becca and the photos and anything else that interfered with me running my multi-million-dollar corporation.
Looking at the clock, I saw I could at least get a few hours of correspondence done before my next meeting. All I had to do was put my head down and focus.
Pulling up my emails, I scanned the lines. The usual. Junk. Email from one of my equipment suppliers. Blah blah. Wait, what the fuck? For the second time that day, I was confronted with an email address made up of mysterious numbers and letters.
No. Not again.
I hoped it wasn't more photos and, with my blood pressure rising, I clicked on it. To my relief, there were no photos. But, to my sheer horror, I saw something so much worse. My eyes skimmed the words, then I read them again. Then again. Then one more time as my head began to spin.
This can't be saying what I think it is!
Suddenly, photographs of me and Becca kissing were the least of my worries.
You're a sick fuck. Think it's okay to sleep with a girl half your age? Well think again. I know everything about you. You’ve been grooming Becca since she was a child, haven’t you? Just waiting for her to grow up so she could be your little fucktoy.
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