by Lola Finn
Palmer moans, her head falling back on my shoulder, and I drop her hand.
“My office.” I stalk away from her, down the hallway.
As soon as she rushes through the door behind me, I slam it and flip the lock. I storm toward her, and she backs up, her ass hitting the desk. She looks uncertain, unsure if I’m mad or turned on, and right now, I’m both. Turned on from watching this little tease finger herself and pissed off at myself for what I’m about to do.
Break.
I crush my lips to hers when I reach her, swallowing her moans as I rip open the button to her shorts. She gasps when I spin her around and drop to my knees behind her, dragging her shorts and soaked panties down at once, and then making her step out of them. I shove her soaked blue panties in my pocket as I straighten up and lean over her, bending her over my desk.
“You trying to tease me, baby?” I growl into her ear, grinding against her bare ass. “Think I can’t have exactly what you want me to think you’re teasing me with? Because I can, Palmer. I can fucking have this tight little pussy whenever I please.”
I graze my hand up the front of her leg, higher and higher until I push it between her slick thighs, spreading her apart until she’s wide-open on the desk in front of me. My fingers slide over her wet lips before parting them and slipping a finger inside of her.
She moans, pushing back into my thick cock as I drive the digit deeper into her heat.
“Is this what you wanted?” I add another finger, slowly thrusting them in and out. She’s so fucking tight, so wet, hot and greedy as she moves her hips.
“Yes, Briggs. God, yes.”
“You want more?” I grind out, barely restraining myself from just taking her and claiming this fucking pussy as mine. “Should I make you come like a bad girl all over my desk?”
“Please.”
I slide another finger into her, pumping faster as she bucks against my hand. Her moans grow louder, so I move my other hand around to cover her mouth, and she turns her head to look at me, her eyes wild with lust. I groan, thrusting my cock against her ass while I finger her tight little pussy, my palm rubbing against her clit.
“Come, Palmer. Come for me, baby.”
I slide my fingers in and out of her over and over until her legs start to shake, her breath fast against my palm, and then I push deep inside her. And Palmer explodes. She throws her head back, her teeth digging into my hand as she cries out in pleasure. I keep going, wanting to drag every single second out of her orgasm as she shatters for me.
My hips are rocking against her, my cock dying to finally sink into her, and when her moans soften and her body sags back into mine, I drag my fingers out of her. I reach for my belt as she looks back at me again, her eyes heavy-lidded from her orgasm.
“Please fucking tell me you like it hard and rough,” I say, drawing my zipper down. “Because I want to make you fucking scream, baby.”
“I, uh…” Palmer starts but then hesitates, all her confidence vanishing for an instant, and my hands freeze, seconds away from freeing my hard cock.
She has a moment of panic, her eyes darting between mine. That’s when the realization hits me like a fucking truck, and I step back from her, not trusting myself to be anywhere near her right now.
Palmer’s a fucking virgin.
“You’ve never done this before,” I say, my voice gravelly. Then I think about it more and close my eyes. “You’ve never done any of this before.”
She bites down on her lip and slowly starts to shake her head.
Jesus Christ. And I was about to pound into her from behind for her first time.
I groan, turning around and zipping my fly.
“Briggs,” she says.
“You’re a fucking virgin, Palmer. You were going to lose your virginity to your boss bent over his desk—no, that’s not right, is it?” I growl, my voice louder as I remember the first night we met. “You were going to lose your virginity to a random guy in a bar bathroom.”
She stares at me over her shoulder, looking so fucking innocent with her big green eyes, and I shake my head, running a hand over my jaw.
“Go, Palmer.” I bring my gaze back to hers, my jaw clenched so tight, I think it might break. “Go back to fucking work.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but the look on my face must change her mind. I stand by the door, my knuckles white as I grasp the knob, waiting for her to pull on her shorts and straighten her shirt. My eyes stay on the floor, not even looking at her when she hurries out, and I slam the door behind her.
I collapse into my chair behind the desk, my eyes going straight to the monitor, waiting for her to get back out to the front.
A goddamn virgin. I knew Palmer was inexperienced, but to think she has none. Or none until I came along to start dirtying her up.
And the idea that I could be the first to feel her perfect little pussy come on my cock…
It’s a miracle she got out of this office in one piece.
I’m truly losing it over this woman.
Whatever spell she has me under has me rethinking every fucking thing. The truth is, the longer I’m around her, the more I’m starting to realize I’m not the one in control here. She is. All I can do now is hope she never figures it out.
Chapter Eight
Palmer
Even though I swore to never step foot in the gym again, I only lasted a week. I don’t even know what to think about today as I drag myself through the door of Luna’s yoga studio for her last class of the day.
She gives me a little wave from the front of the room as I grab a mat and force a smile back. Her eyebrows dip, telling me she doesn’t buy it, but she has to start the class before the socialites lose interest.
I roll out my mat in the back, doubting I’ll focus on my breathing at all over the next hour. Not when my mind is so filled with him.
The rest of the day dragged after Briggs practically threw me out of his office. The craziest part is, I’m not even entirely sure if the concern on his face and in his voice when he found out I’m a virgin was for me or for him.
Either way, we went back to the way we were before with me at the front desk and him in his office. I haven’t texted him since, not because I think he won’t answer. He will. I’m not the only one wrapped up in something here, twisted and tangled, hot and forbidden.
Briggs is just the only one fighting against it.
As we lie on our backs for the last five minutes of the class, breathing or whatever, I close my eyes, trying to focus. But it lasts about three exhales before thoughts of earlier come rushing back in.
If I think hard enough, I can still feel my body humming the way it had right after he sent me spiraling with nothing but his fingers. I think about his hands on my body, and how it would have felt if he hadn’t stopped. If he’d given me what I really want.
When we text, everything seems so easy. We fit, even stumbling our way into topics of substance every now and then.
But something always happens when we’re together, making it all fall apart. This internal war he has going on is driving us both insane. Briggs is straddling the line between what he thinks he should want and what he really wants.
Today, though, the cracks started to show. And I know it’s only the beginning. Soon enough, Oliver Briggs will break for me, and there won’t be any scrambling to fit the pieces back together.
Once class wraps up, Luna finishes up with a few guests before her sights set on me.
“Okay,” she says when she reaches me. She twists her long red braid up and secures it with a clip as we leave the studio. “Lay it on me.”
I shrug, stopping in the hallway while she locks up. “What am I laying?”
Her eyebrows rise, and I lift one in return until we both laugh. She bumps into my shoulder, walking toward the gym’s lobby.
“One, Palmer ‘I’ll Never Don Athletic Shorts Again’ Evans just took my yoga class…”
&
nbsp; I roll my eyes. “I tend to exaggerate.”
“And two, you walked in looking like you were trying to solve world hunger. Which, props, someone needs to be working on it, but probably not you in the Haven Cove luxury gym and spa.”
I make a face at her, but she’s right. I was pretty bummed when I walked in, but this whole Briggs thing has me doubting myself. And as much as I’d love her take on it all, I sigh and hook my arm through hers, leaning my head on her shoulder on our way down the hallway.
“I’m just having a day,” I tell her.
“Well…” Luna shrugs so I’ll straighten up. “Lucky for you, there’s a party at the staff cabin tonight. We should go. Forget whatever’s bothering you.”
Luna spins, walking backward in front of me. “Or if I’m reading this whole vibe you have going on right, we’ll forget whoever’s bothering you.”
She winks, backing through the double doors into the lobby, and I roll my eyes, following after her. Partly because I’ve clearly lost it over this guy if Luna and I have swapped positions, and she’s the one dragging me to parties. But also because I’m starting to doubt anything is strong enough to make me forget about Oliver Briggs.
Even if half the time it feels like he might want to forget about me.
***
The staff cabin overflows with bodies that night. Unlike the cabins we sleep in, this one has a full kitchen, a living room with a TV, and a pool table. And tonight, it also has a fridge stocked with beer and counters covered in booze.
And I think half of it might be in my stomach by eleven o’clock.
Which, of course, means I give up on not texting Briggs. Sexy, massive, drives me crazy in the best and worst possible ways Briggs.
Hi, remember me? You kicked me out of your office earlier and kept my panties.
I chew on the rim of my red plastic cup, perched on the arm of the couch with a few other ivies around me, talking about what I have no idea. A week ago, I would have been ravenous for gossip, living vicariously through the other staffers, but right now, I don’t really care about anything but the bubbles appearing on my screen.
Redhead, right? Lower back tattoo. Shit kisser.
My lips curve up. He’s still in this with me, torn and tortured over the whole thing, but in it. The booze and I decide to just get it all out there right now. I’m not subtle either as much as chill as I might like to think I have through my buzz.
Why are you being so difficult? We both know you want me. Just fuck me already.
Like I said—not subtle.
Fuck my virgin employee? You’re right. I should just get it over with already.
My eyes roll. But then another message from him pops up.
Where are you right now?
Staff cabin. A party. Having fun.
Not true. Honestly, I’ve been pretty over the whole thing since I walked in. And then, after an hour of watching Luna’s boyfriend eye-fuck her from across the room, I told her to go. She tried to stick around, but I was adamant, practically shoving her out the door. He followed right after with his two bunkmates who had also been visually stripping every item of clothing off her but don’t even get me started on that.
I might not have told her about Briggs, but she has her own secrets. Or so she thinks.
My eyes drop to my screen when it vibrates with another text.
Too much fun to go into the bathroom and show me those amazing tits of yours.
I check the open bathroom door on the other side of the cabin, my pulse spiking at the thought of being in there with all these people out here.
You first, boss. Show me how much you don’t want me.
I expect a picture to be the next thing to pop up, but instead, the bubbles appear as he types. My chest constricts, and I have an uneasy feeling. Like maybe this is finally the time he tells me no. Then the message pops up, and my heart flutters in my chest.
Can’t. Because we both know I want you.
A second later, I get a photo of his gray boxer briefs, the thick outline of his hard cock blatantly obvious as it strains against the material. My nipples harden, my clit throbbing for him. I quickly finish my drink and toss it in the trash, then smile on my way around someone, heading into the bathroom. I ease the door closed, my body tingling as I flip the lock.
And then my phone vibrates again.
Oh, and were you talking about these panties?
Suddenly his sculpted abs fill my screen, my eyes following the lines of his perfect V down to the thick base of his enormous, bare cock. Then I moan, seeing my little blue panties between his fist and shaft, wrapped around his girth.
Fuck me.
I strip off my shirt and shove the handle for the faucet, letting the little bathroom fill with the sound of water, the muted bass of music from the party mingling with it as I wiggle out of my shorts. Then I step back, so my entire body appears in the mirror, and I angle, so the camera on my phone catches my fingers teasing along my naked pussy lips, my eyes closed when I snap the picture.
When I send the picture, I’m not even thinking as I type out the message to go with it.
Tell me how much you want it.
Nah, baby. I’m gonna show you. But let me see that pretty pink pussy first.
I bite my lips, teasing myself with my fingers as I send him a picture of my glistening entrance, so wet for him. I’m desperate to come by the time he answers, my nipples hard and clit pulsing as I grind into my palm with two fingers deep inside me.
This, Palmer. This is what you do to me.
I quickly hit play when the video appears and desperately whimper, coming the second I see him working up and down his fat cock, jacking off with my panties. The orgasm slams into me, threatening to drown me as I watch Briggs slide the material up and down his cock. I drop the phone into the sink in front of me, covering my mouth and moaning into my palm when his cock jerks, pumping white cum into my panties.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, my pussy throbbing as I watch the screen, hearing him groan my name and come, his abs clenched in pleasure while he fills my panties with more cum until his hand slows, his body relaxing.
“What should I do with these now, baby girl?” Briggs growls in the video, his voice gravelly.
I’m still shaking when I reach for my phone again, my thighs slick and legs trembling. And I’m running on nothing but pure bliss and adrenaline when I answer him.
You should make me taste them.
Chapter Nine
Briggs
Make me taste them.
I’ve been switching between the caption on the Exposed post and Palmer’s message from last night off and on all day through my meetings to go over second quarter reports.
I have no doubt left in my mind every dirty word and dark desire in those posts come from her. All of them splayed out for me to read and memorize, imagine making them a reality.
“What is with my most solid people being distracted lately?” Brent asks, and I lock my phone, shoving it in my pocket as I glance up at him on the other side of the desk.
“Who else is distracted?” I ask, redirecting.
He shoots me a look, knowing exactly what I’m doing, but he gives me this one, not pushing. “Everyone,” he says. “So, it shouldn’t surprise me that shit has been falling through the cracks around here lately.”
Shit. Brent Cabot might not be my father—which is probably a good thing since I’d likely not even piss on that motherfucker if he were on fire—but the idea of letting Brent down can slice through me like no other.
“You have my full attention, sir,” I say, pushing Palmer as far out of my mind as she’ll go.
“You’re fine.” Brent waves me off. “I’m just still dealing with the renovation at the house and the wedding plans. Then there’s the new hotel in New York, which is…I need someone stronger up there so I don’t have to constantly be making trips there to make sure everything’s going to plan
.”
I nod, agreeing with him. The guy he has running the project, Frederick, is a pompous ass for one, and he has a very different vision for the hotel than anyone else. Gaudy furniture in that weird orange color that was popular for chairs and couches forty years ago and wallpaper with trees.
The guy gives me a migraine, and I get all of his bullshit second-hand. I can’t imagine it will be any better if the hotel opens before Brent can get someone worthwhile in there.
“You need me to take a weekend shift on keeping him in line?” I offer.
“And let this place go to shit in the middle of the season?” he asks, his face dead serious for a second before it cracks into a half-smile. “You think I’m kidding when I say this place is what it is because of you, Briggs, but I don’t joke when it comes to money or family.”
My mouth hooks up. Anyone who’s met Brent for more than a few minutes knows his stance on both. No one fucks with either, and if they do, they only do it once—none of them getting off near as lucky as I did.
The night he busted me, I was in the honeymoon suite of one of his hotels in Chicago. I didn’t know it was the honeymoon suite. I didn’t give a damn either. It was just the closest one to the cleaning cart when the housekeeper walked away, leaving her master keycard unattended for thirty seconds while she took towels into the room across the hall.
I’d been on my own for two weeks, sleeping wherever I could and sweet talking the lunch lady at my high school for a free second serving—even though I hadn’t paid for a first.
When Brent found me, I was more concerned with the possibility of being shoved into the system again than I was about going to jail. At least in jail I’d get a place to sleep and some food. A sixteen-year-old kid in the foster system, not really a guarantee.
Brent must’ve seen it on my face because he kicked his security guards out of the room when they charged in behind him. He told me to start talking and not to stop until I explained the reason I was using his thirty-five-dollar bars of soap every night. Once I did, we never spoke of it again.