“I don’t want to hurt you, Molly, so you set the pace. Fuck us both at the same time, sweetheart.”
Molly gave in to the urge to rock, her movement easy at first, testing. Forward and down to brush her clit against the hair that nestled Alan’s cock, then up and back to press Richard’s cock more deeply into her ass.
“Oh!” She shivered and jerked as it felt as if everything inside her melded, became one giant erogenous spot.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Richard said.
“Ah, yes, my God, it’s fabulous.” Alan groaned.
Both men sounded near the end of their tethers, and the idea that she could make both lose control at the same time filled Molly with joy and determination.
Back and forth, shivering, she moved her hips, the motion evolving from smooth and slow to jerky and urgent as her arousal, so huge, took over. “Yes.”
“Now.” Richard said.
Molly couldn’t hold her scream as her orgasm took her, captured her, and hurled her beyond the lustful into the sextreme, wave after wave that battered her will until she could only take, not just the rapture flooding her, but the solid thrusting of her lovers, prisoners of their own climaxes.
Deaf and paralyzed, only her heart pounding in her chest to assure her she lived, Molly lay collapsed on Alan, sucking in breath fast and deep.
“We didn’t hurt you?” Richard asked. Molly admired his superior ability. She couldn’t manage talk just yet. She hoped the grunt she gave him was sufficient reassurance she felt fine.
He eased out of her and off the bed but returned in moments, lifting her, cradling her while Alan took his turn in the bathroom.
Then they all three snuggled under the covers, still struggling for breath. Molly shivered, a strong aftershock she figured would measure a five on the Richter scale.
“Holy crap.”
The words sounded so funny coming from Alan, she laughed, even though she couldn’t have said it better herself.
“Now that is what I call a workout,” she said.
She took the sounds that came from both men as agreement.
Chapter 12
“Peter, I appreciate that yesterday was Memorial Day. Strangely enough, for me, too. I’m not sure I understand what that has to do with my question. I want to know if the silk screens are going to be delivered to Mr. Farmington today, or not?”
Alan tried not to let the sound of his impatience filter through the telephone line. Peter Benjamin was arguably one of the finest silk-screen artists he’d ever met. But the man had the business sense of a gnat.
He listened as Peter went into a long explanation that, boiled down to its lowest common denominator, meant no.
“When, then?” Of course, Alan knew what had happened. Someone who knew Peter, likely a friend of a friend, dropped in on the artist with another friend in tow, and that friend likely saw the screens commissioned for Barry Farmington’s executive office and had oohed and aahed over them and the damn twit artist either sold them or gave them away.
“All right.” Alan sighed heavily. He looked up and saw Molly at the doorway to his office. He winked at her and enjoyed the pretty blush she gave him in return. “Peter, I’m going to hold you to that. I’ll be by Thursday afternoon. You have to have those pieces for me then.”
Alan hung up the phone and stared at the receiver for a moment. “Thank God I told Farmington they wouldn’t be ready until Friday at the earliest.”
Molly laughed. “From what I’ve seen so far, you do as much people-handling as you do interior decorating.”
“Tell me about it. You look very nice, by the way.”
She’d put her hair up in a no-nonsense chignon and applied a very subtle layer of makeup. Her shoes looked sensible, modest pumps, not even close to the fuck-me heels she’d worn at Reckless Abandon.
“Thank you. Mr. Nicholson prefers that members of his executive staff dress in proper business attire. Richard said you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride over to my apartment, so I can pick up my car.”
“I’d be delighted to. He’s working at getting you a parking spot in the secured lot across the street. The spaces are rented by the month, so it may take a bit of time, but you’ll have one eventually.”
“Why, when I can park at my apartment for free?”
“Ah yes, for now. But what if, down the road, you no longer have that apartment?” He tilted his head to one side and waited for that information to process.
“I’m very conscientious about paying my rent on time. I hardly ever have wild, drunken orgies—without inviting the landlord. I don’t think I’m going to be evicted anytime soon.”
“You are a smart-ass.” He stepped around his desk and approached her. He would have liked to get his fingers into all that glorious red hair. But of course, that would have to wait until the end of the day, after work.
Maybe Richard would let him muss her up a bit, before he himself got his hands on her.
“You don’t think this is just a game, do you? Or something casual?”
“No, I know it’s not. I’m just not completely certain what it is, yet.”
“That’s fair enough. You’ve only been with us a few days, after all.” He’d already gotten his things together, ready to leave when he’d remembered he needed to call Peter. Now he picked up his case and took his car keys out of his pocket.
“Come on, I’ll drop you at your place. I know Richard would have, but he had that obscenely early meeting with the CEO of RoeCorp.”
“So he said. I guess his customers make him jump through hoops, too.”
“Part of the glamour and glory of owning your own,” Alan said.
He ushered her out of the house and ensured the door locked behind him.
“He gave me a key already,” Molly said as they stood on the sidewalk and waited to cross the street.
This neighborhood had been very fashionable back in the day. Thanks to urban redevelopment, it would be that way again. But people were people, and it became obvious that leaving a very nice car parked on the street overnight came with risks. A year ago the developer put up a secured garage.
Alan, for one, felt very grateful.
“Why shouldn’t you have a key? We’re all involved, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Molly agreed. “I’m still trying to figure it out. I know that I’ve never been turned on as much as I have been since Friday night. But it does confuse me a little.”
“The fact that Richard is my master and yet I own my own business, where I’m the boss?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not something that I can—or should—explain to you, sweetheart. You’ll either get it, or you won’t.”
Alan just smiled in response to the scowl she sent him. He bet she would get it—and sooner, rather than later.
* * * *
For the first time since she’d been employed at Nicholson Manufacturing, Molly had difficulty concentrating on her work. It was month end, always a busy time in accounting. Usually there were so many last-minute additions and deletions, so many journal entries, that she felt rushed and crushed with the weight of what needed to be done. Her job was vital in that it was her responsibility to produce the financial statement each month.
Usually, that sense of vitality, of urgency, fuelled her so that she could work quickly and without a break.
Today, her head simply couldn’t get in the game.
The sense of being watched caused a shiver to snake down her spine. Appearing to keep her head down, she shifted her gaze up and to the right.
Brian watched her. Again.
The main office where she worked had been designed so that department heads occupied offices along two walls, and the office workers sat in cubicles created by portable cloth “walls.” Her staff—all three of them—sat outside her office to the left.
Brian took up the actual glass-enclosed office directly across to her right.
Normally, he annoyed her by asking her to do little things fo
r him—look up this fact, trace down this shipment—just jobs he could give her to do to make himself feel important.
This was the first time he’d sat for long periods of time and simply stared at her. It creeped her out.
She put her eyes back on her work and forced herself to concentrate. When he got up and left the area, she heaved a sigh of relief.
The work finally caught her attention. There were regular entries that needed to be made each month end, accruals that would then have to be reversed once the financial statements were produced.
The bulk of these could be entered by her staff, but some pertained to confidential information, like salaries. These she would enter herself.
A shadow fell over her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she looked up and saw Brian standing before her.
“Mr. Horner.”
“I’ve spoken to Uncle Norman. He thinks it would be a good idea if I sat in with you when you begin to do the month-end run.”
“Why?”
As far as she’d been able to tell, Brian Horner didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground when it came to financial matters. Or anything else for that matter.
“Because I believe you need someone in authority to supervise you. The Nicholson name is on the company and by extension, of course, the Horner name. Uncle Norman’s signature is on your paycheck, which makes you simply an employee of the family. My being with you as, shall we say, an overseer, will ensure that the family’s interests are served.”
“I see.”
Molly never felt more insulted in her life. And she wasn’t even certain what the greater insult was, Brian’s not-so-subtle impugning of her character or the way he seemed to be leering at her, as if he could see right through her clothes.
He made her skin crawl. She wanted a shower.
She felt her temper simmering and knew she would say something she might come to regret. She tried to bite her tongue, but she didn’t try very hard.
“Tell me, Mr. Horner. I’m curious to know how you plan to ‘oversee’ my work when you have no knowledge of accounting.”
“You need to mind your place, Molly. It’s not for you to judge what I am and am not capable of. In fact,” he stepped closer to her desk, practically leaning over her, “you’d be amazed if you knew all there was to know about me.”
It took sheer nerve on her part to not pull back, to not flinch when he invaded her personal space. Since she had nothing more to say, she simply stared him down.
It took a few moments, but in the end he smirked and eased back—as any bully might, trying to give the impression she didn’t unnerve him.
She waited until he left her office before she relaxed. Then she reached for the phone.
“Mr. Nicholson’s office.”
“Hi, Janet. Does he have time for me?”
“Sure, Molly. Come on over.”
Molly worked on putting a lid on her temper as she wound her way through the corridors until she came to Norman Nicholson’s office.
His secretary, Janet, had been with him since the beginning, a warm, motherly woman whom practically everyone at Nicholson Manufacturing adored.
“He’s waiting for you. But he does have a meeting scheduled in about fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t think I’m going to need that long.”
Norman Nicholson sat behind a desk cluttered with files and paperwork. He began his company twenty years before, he often said, on a wing, a prayer, and a loan from his sister Martha. Martha married well and had one son, Brian. Molly knew that meant she needed to proceed with the utmost caution. She’d already decided that she wouldn’t complain about the little slug. Instead she drew on knowledge gained during two college semesters in psychology. When in doubt, resort to “I” messages.
“Hey there, Molly. What can I do for you?”
“I felt I needed to apologize, Mr. Nicholson. I’m not sure what I’ve done to make you question my ability to do my job, but I’m sorry.”
The man blinked at her and then sat back.
“I have a feeling Brian has insulted you?”
“He informed me that he would be ‘overseeing’ my production of the financial statements in order that the family’s interests could be properly protected.”
“Jesus Christ.”
It was the first time Molly ever saw a display of disgust on her boss’s face or heard him swear.
“He asked if he could spend some time with you, perhaps pick up some pointers, maybe even learn a little on how to conduct a proper month end. So I told him he would have to check with you first. God knows it’s the first thing he’s shown an interest in since I hired him.”
“I see. Well, that makes me feel better.”
“Look, I know Brian’s a screw up. He’s never really settled on anything, you know? Breaks Martha’s heart. Here he is, nearing forty, with nothing to show for it. I hired him to make her feel better. You know how much I owe her.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“If you could let him sit in with you, ignore his bullshit, I’d consider it a personal favor. You have to know nothing he can do or say is going to impact my respect for your work or your position here.”
Molly really liked everything about her job until Brian arrived. Mr. Nicolson took her on pretty much right out of college, and in just these few short years he’d made her a manager. She supposed, although it really rubbed her wrong, the least she could do was try. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks, Molly. I mean that.”
Molly checked her watch as she left Mr. Nicholson’s office. Nearly three o’clock. Since she hadn’t taken a lunch break yet, she’d work for another half hour, then call it a day.
She figured she needed the time to shore up her resolve and tuck her resentment away so she could keep her promise to her boss for at least the next few days. She’d do her best to make this the fastest month end in Nicholson Manufacturing history.
* * * *
He watched her, and she didn’t even know it. She didn’t know he was there, could never even guess. But he knew her, oh yes, and how easy he found it to see her—beautiful, white ass naked, ready for his marks.
She thought herself untouchable. Inviolate. Because she belonged, the slave of another? That hardly mattered, wouldn’t matter when the time came. That time would be soon. Soon he would claim the bitch as his own. And he would teach her who was master and who was slave.
Bacchus couldn’t settle, felt the same restlessness he felt Friday night. He stroked his lips, recalling the wonder of that night.
He’d seen his destiny for the first time then, and he’d nearly convinced himself that the other was her. She’d been an adequate substitute. Ginny. He’d learned a few things with Ginny, practiced on her, and it had almost, almost, been good enough.
The main thing he learned was that he did need to practice. For when he had her, he wanted it all to be just exactly right.
Bacchus got in his car, restless, always restless, and drove through familiar haunts, places he’d visited all his life. And he laughed because these people never really saw him, either.
He drove until the sun set, until the street lights came on. He drove and he watched.
Finally, his patience was rewarded. This had to be a sign, didn’t it? Of course, it did. He pulled ahead, parked his car, and got out but didn’t lock it. He recognized the woman approaching the bus stop. She was one of the ones who’d never really seen him.
He walked like a man with not a care in the world, and when he neared the bus shelter, he smiled.
The woman checked her watch and frowned.
“Well, hello. Patricia, isn’t it?”
Patricia started, then she saw him, recognized him, and smiled.
“Yes, hello. How are you? How’s your family?”
“We’re all well, thanks. Did you miss your bus?”
“I think I did. The next one doesn’t arrive for another forty minutes.”
“What bad luck! List
en, I’m just on my way home. Perhaps you’ll let me give you a ride?”
Wariness came and went on Patricia’s face. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp, he could see her expression clearly. She sighed and ran her hand through her red hair, sweeping it away from her face.
“That would be great. Thanks so much.”
“Come on, my car’s just over here.”
“It was awfully nice of you to stop for me,” Patricia said as she opened the passenger door.
“Oh, no. Believe me. The pleasure is all mine.”
Chapter 13
Molly didn’t bother to call ahead. She had a key and she figured both men would still be working. She’d left earlier than her normal time, too. So before either of them would wonder about her whereabouts, she’d be home.
She drove to her apartment and parked her car. She took a moment to gather her mail. Then she headed to the bus stop located just half a block down the street from her building.
The bus ride gave her time to decompress, to put the frustrations of the day behind her. She shivered when she thought of the way Brian stared at her most of the day. She really did feel as if she needed that shower.
If he continued doing that, she didn’t think she’d be able to work with him, no matter that she’d told Mr. Nicholson that she’d try.
By the time the bus let her off at the stop closest to Richard and Alan’s house, she thought she’d put the worst of the day behind her.
“Molly! I was just going to call you and arrange to pick you up from…what’s wrong?”
She didn’t expect Richard to be there, or Alan, either, whom she saw when he came out of his office.
It never occurred to her to lie. “I just had a bitch of a day is all.”
“Ooh, do you want us to go and pound on someone?” Alan asked.
Molly laughed. He sounded so excited when he said that, which she knew had just been for her benefit, to make her laugh. She couldn’t imagine Alan pounding on anyone. “Not right now, but maybe I’ll keep that in reserve?”
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