The pressure between my legs grew, his proximity in the small space making my entire body tingle. Almost involuntarily, my eyes darted to his groin. The tenting in his slacks was unmistakable.
And impressive.
He inched toward me, adjusting his glasses. The whirlpool sensation in my belly left me feeling light-headed and tingly. I was well aware that my shirt was still open and I wasn’t making any attempt to fix it. But the closer he got, the harder my heart beat, and the more the pressure between my legs begged me to do something about it.
Something crazy.
Something reckless.
Something so ill-advised I was angry at myself for even thinking it.
Angry at him for making me think it.
I had to break the spell, so I reached for that anger, grabbing it and holding it tight. “Your research is bad, and you have no business being here.”
But the words I threw at him did not have their desired effect. He didn’t back away. He didn’t even stop. He took another step closer, his eyes locked with mine, his jaw set.
“You’re too close-minded and can’t admit when you’re wrong.”
“You think you can distract me with your… gifts.” I glanced at the bulge in his pants again. “But it won’t work.”
“You’re the one trying to distract me with… all this.” His eyes flicked down. “It’s very unfair.”
He moved closer, so close we were almost touching, and my body tensed with anticipation.
“I don’t like you,” I whispered.
“Good. I don’t like you either.”
His mouth crashed into mine, his lips firm. I grabbed his shirt and yanked him against me, meeting his angry kiss with my own. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place, and invaded my mouth with his tongue. The wet, velvety softness slid against mine.
God, he knew how to kiss. Damn him.
He shoved his thigh between my legs, forcing them apart. My skirt rode up and I moaned into his mouth at the sudden pressure against my clit.
Do not dry hump his leg, Hazel. Do not.
Obviously I did.
With a fleeting thought that I’d forgive myself for this later because I was that desperate for an orgasm, I tilted my hips and ground myself against his thigh.
Oh dear god yes. The friction and pressure were just what I needed.
He growled into my mouth, still kissing me, and grabbed my backside. With his fingers digging into my ass cheek, he pressed me against his thigh, encouraging my movement.
The throbbing pressure between my legs was blindingly intense. Holding me tight, he rubbed me against his leg in a steady rhythm, helping me chase the orgasm that was already tantalizingly close.
Wait, helping me?
He wanted me to come. He wanted to give me an orgasm, right here. Fully clothed. Using his leg.
Oh no. I was not going to be a good, cooperative girl. Not for Corban Nash.
I sank my teeth into his lower lip and he grunted, pulling me tighter against him. The hard thickness of his arousal dug into my belly, an invitation too tempting to resist. I slid my palm down his body and wrapped my hand around his cock through his pants.
He grunted again, the noise rumbling in his throat, and squeezed my ass cheek harder.
“I still don’t like you,” I said, my voice breathy.
“Me neither,” he growled. Fisting his hand in the back of my hair, he tilted my head to the side. Scraped his teeth down my neck. “But I’m going to make you come anyway.”
“No you’re not.” Yes, please make me come, Corban. Please.
He kept nibbling and licking my skin, his thigh still firmly planted between my legs. His other hand slid to my breast and he rubbed my hard nipple through the thin fabric of my bra. It was stupidly unfair how good he was at this.
“Yes, I am. Tell me you want it, Hazel.”
Shuddering, I moaned.
We couldn’t. We were at work.
And I couldn’t give in. Not to him.
But it was late. We were alone.
And this felt so good.
“Say it.” His fist tightened in my hair and he sucked on my neck. “I have to hear you say yes.”
I did want it. I wanted it more than I wanted to be right. More than I wanted to win.
“Yes.”
He pulled away and angled me toward the empty worktable. Planted his palm against my back and bent me over. With rough hands, he shoved my skirt up to my waist.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I said over my shoulder.
“It doesn’t for me either.” He unfastened his pants and pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard length.
I hated how the sight of his cock made my knees nearly buckle. But it was perfect. Long, thick, and solid. Flushed to the color of wine. Biting his lower lip again, he gave it a few quick tugs with his fist and a tremor ran down the length of my spine.
Give it to me, Corban. Now.
With his thick erection in one hand, he shoved my panties aside and slid his fingers along my opening, dipping them inside. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
I arched my back harder, desperate and wanting. He aligned himself with my entrance, grabbed my hips, and thrust himself inside.
An explosion of pleasure burst through my entire body. He stretched me open, his thickness filling me. My eyes rolled back, and I didn’t bother stifling the moan that left my lips.
“One time, Hazel,” he growled, driving deep. “You get my cock once.”
“I won’t want it again.” That was a lie, and I knew it already. But there was no way I was admitting it.
He didn’t answer. Just grunted as he buried his cock into my wetness.
I braced myself on the flat surface of the table while Corban held my hips and fucked me from behind. Every thrust was like magic, giving me both pressure and friction where I needed it most. I closed my eyes, focusing on the way his cock felt, dragging in and out. The tension building in my core.
If he didn’t make me come, I was going to kill him.
“You better warn me before you finish.”
He thrust harder. “You’re coming first.”
The impulse to argue with him was as strong as it was ridiculous. Why would I argue with that? My brain was too tangled up to reply coherently, so I just moaned again.
Bracing himself with one arm, he leaned over me, his breath hot on my neck. His low growls reverberated through me, making my nerve endings fire.
I wished we were naked. I bet his skin felt good.
But that wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t the time for the softness of skin against skin. For tender caresses and passionate kisses.
This was hard and furious. His cock driving deep. My boobs smashed against the table, the edge digging into my hip bones. It was my skirt hiked up, my panties pulled to the side, his pants zipper scratching me with every thrust.
It was rough and raw and uncomfortable. And I needed it like I needed air.
“Is that the best you can do?” I asked, goading him on purpose. Lashing out because he felt so good it made me irrationally mad.
His angry growl was primal and untamed. He clamped his teeth at the base of my neck, biting hard enough to make me gasp. I felt pinned down. Restrained by this unexpected animal of a man.
I had no idea I’d love that so much. But oh my god, I did.
“If it’s not good enough, I can stop,” he said in my ear.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I’ll pull my cock out of you right now.” Thrust. “A few jerks of my hand and I’ll come anyway.” Harder thrust. “So if you don’t need it, I’ll just…”
He pulled out and paused with just the tip inside.
I whipped my head around to look at him over my shoulder. He was still braced over me, his face close. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
His body shuddered. “Oh my god, did you just say fucking?”
I arched my back, desperate for more. “So?”
> “So? God, I hate how hot you are.” He thrust back in.
“I hate that your cock feels good.”
“I hate that you make me hard every time I fucking see you.”
He drove with his hips, sinking his cock in deep. Fire ran through my veins, every thrust igniting a new spark. My walls tightened around his length, my core pulsing with tension.
His hand slid down around the top of my thigh, his fingers finding my clit, and I almost died.
I could no longer separate anything I was feeling. Lust. Anger. Desire. The hot swirl of pressure built as his fingers rubbed tight circles over my clit. It was perfect.
How did he know?
No, really. How did he know?
The rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of my wetness matched the quick brushes of his fingers against my desperately sensitive clit. Rational thought fled. I closed my eyes, holding the table for dear life. Feeling nothing but his thickness. His body slamming into mine. His fingers dancing across my tender bundle of nerves. Heat and tension rising. So fast. So hard. So good.
I threw my head back as my entire body convulsed with the breathtaking power of my orgasm. My pussy clenched around his cock, squeezing hard, pulsing with the waves of climax.
Finally. Oh thank god, finally.
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” he growled and his cock throbbed inside me.
The table slammed into the wall, the legs scraping against the floor. Corban groaned into my ear, his muscles flexing, and drove his hips harder. The sound of his voice, so low and raw, and the feel of his cock as he burst inside me sent a renewed rush of pleasure pulsing through my body. It rocked me to my core. He drew out my orgasm, one rolling into another, until I was nothing but a mess of quaking limbs sprawled out on the table.
He paused, breathing hard, his cock still buried inside me. I could hardly open my eyes. My body trembled with the relief of finally finding release.
Without a word, he stood, his cock slipping out. I pushed against the table to stand, hoping my legs would take my weight. They shook, but held, saving me the humiliation of crumpling to the floor.
Although part of me wanted to, just to see if Corban would put his arms around me to help me stand.
I closed my eyes again, letting out a breath, and pushed my skirt down. Behind me, I heard a zipper. A few muttered words I couldn’t make out.
And when I turned to look over my shoulder, Corban was gone.
14
Corban
“Mathematics may not teach us how to add love or how to minus hate. But it gives every reason to hope that every problem has a solution.” ~ Anonymous
The basketball hit the floor, the sound echoing in the gym. I dribbled a few more times, then took a shot. Swish. Nothing but net.
I’d gone to the climbing gym earlier, hoping to get my head on straight. It hadn’t helped much. Of course, it didn’t matter how high I climbed or how many baskets I shot. I’d still fucked Hazel over a table in the copy room at work last night.
A woman I didn’t like.
A woman who drove me crazy.
A woman I’d been attracted to since the first time we’d met.
What had come over me? I hadn’t even needed to go to the copy room. But I’d swear it until the day I died, she’d been releasing a massive quantity of intoxicating pheromones. I’d been as helpless as a worker bee, obeying the commands of his queen.
Until I’d taken charge.
I’d never done anything like that before. I’d taken her. It had been pure raw instinct and unbridled lust. We’d been at work, in a copy room, with the door open right behind us. I was pretty sure the building had been empty, but still.
And I’d been achingly aware of every detail. The way she felt, her wet pussy surrounding me. Her scent and the heat of her body. The open door behind us and how I was going to hide her if someone approached. I’d been in charge, in command of the whole situation. And I’d fucked her like an animal.
I didn’t want to think about how much I’d liked it.
No—loved it.
It had been fucking amazing, there was no other way to describe it. Like a beast had always lived inside me, and I’d finally let him out. She had drawn him out.
The fact that we hadn’t used protection, however, reminded me how reckless that had been.
Fuck.
“Sup, glasses,” a voice said behind me.
I grabbed the ball and tucked it under my arm. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
Alex unzipped his hoodie. He was tall—about my height—with dark hair and a beard. “Can’t complain. You?”
I shrugged. Totally fucked in the head. “Not bad.”
His brother Caleb was right behind him. He looked a lot like Alex. Same dark hair, square jaw. Good looking guys. They came in here to shoot hoops a few times a week with their brother-in-law, Weston. I’d joined their games enough that we’d exchanged names, although they mostly called me glasses. I referred to them as the dads, since all three were married with kids.
Caleb said hi and peeled off his sweatshirt. I passed the ball to Alex and the three of us started shooting around.
Weston strolled in a few minutes later, hands in his pockets, still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t say anything, just put his keys, phone, and sunglasses in a pile next to the wall before coming out onto the court.
I shot around with them while they chatted with each other. Sometimes they talked about work, but more often it was family stuff. Progress on backyard swing sets, piano recitals, baby-proofing challenges, and funny things their wives had said.
Most of the time it was cool to be around them. These guys were happily married and raising families. They didn’t bitch about their wives or complain about the responsibilities of having kids. They clearly loved their families—loved being husbands and fathers. It gave me hope that this was possible. Maybe even for a guy like me.
But today, hearing Caleb laugh about a late night trip to the store to get his pregnant wife grapefruit because it was her current craving, and Weston idly mention that his daughter had painted his toenails and no, he would not take his shoes off so everyone could see… it just reminded me that I was the guy going home to an empty apartment after this.
“Someone get this guy a beer,” Caleb said, passing the ball to me. “What’s going on, glasses? You okay?”
“He does look like shit,” Weston said.
I scowled at him and turned back to Caleb. “I don’t know. I’ve got some weird stuff going on with a coworker.”
“Who is she?” Alex asked.
“What makes you think it’s a she?” I took a shot and missed.
He jogged over to grab the ball and passed it to Weston. “Just a guess. It is, though, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a she.”
“So what’s the deal?” Alex asked. “You have a crush on her, but she has a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Worse than that? She’s not your boss’s daughter, is she? Or maybe she is your boss?”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “Why do you assume his life is basically the plot of a novel?”
Alex just shrugged.
“I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t even like her. She drives me crazy.”
“That sucks,” Caleb said.
“She’s a total pain in my ass. Constantly questioning the things I do. And she keeps fucking with me. Like we had this conversation about favorite animals, and I said I liked penguins, then backtracked and said something else. But she wouldn’t let it go, like she had to shove it down my throat that I’d said I liked penguins. So later what do I find on my desk? A fucking penguin.”
Alex and Caleb stared at me, but now that I was talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. Weston just kept shooting hoops.
“She says I started it when I put her lunch in the freezer, but that wasn’t even a big deal; she had yogurt in her lunch. Who cares if it’s frozen, right? Besides, she started it by following me around the fucking internet
just to make sure I knew she disagreed with me.”
The ball bounced past, but I ignored it.
“Now I have to work with her every day and no matter what I do, I can’t stay away from her. Last night she told me that my research is shit and I have no business being in her department.”
Caleb winced. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”
Without warning, Weston passed me the ball—hard. I caught it with a grunt.
“How long have you been fucking her?” he asked, his tone nonchalant.
“Dude,” Alex said.
Weston raised his eyebrows, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “What?”
“Why do you assume he’s sleeping with her?” Caleb asked. “He said they don’t get along.”
“Doesn’t mean they’re not fucking,” Weston said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and we were idiots for not realizing it.
All eyes swung to me.
“Just the one time. Last night.”
Weston gestured toward me. “See?”
“I don’t know what happened. She bent over to pick up some papers and her shirt popped open and the next thing I knew…” I trailed off, shrugging. They got the idea. I wasn’t about to describe it in detail. Seemed like a crappy thing to do to Hazel.
“And now you want to fuck her again, but you also basically hate her,” Weston said.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “No, not… sort of? I don’t know.”
“Just fuck her again,” Weston said and held out his hands, ready for a pass. “Are we playing, or not?”
I passed him the ball.
“Don’t listen to that asshole,” Caleb said. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. My sister’s the only reason he’s not alone and miserable.”
Weston took a shot and it swished through the net. “He’s not wrong.”
“Sorry, you guys,” I said. “I just made a huge mistake last night and I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about it. Let’s just play.”
“You sure?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, I think I just need to get my mind off her for a while.”
Not that a game of basketball would work. Nothing had. I could still feel her. Smell her. Taste her lips.
Love According to Science Page 11