by Diana Ballew
As his cock shrank, she swirled her tongue around its head. He urged her away, pulling her up from his feet. When she was standing again, he captured her face between his palms and kissed her. He lifted his head, his eyes still burning with passion. “I never expected you to go down on me.”
Her face grew warm but she kept her gaze locked with his. “Only fair for me to give you as much pleasure as you gave me.” Besides, she’d fantasized about taking him in her mouth. The reality was better than she had imagined.
A ringing sound made them both jump. It was a couple of seconds before either of them realized it was the elevator phone.
Swearing in a low voice, he turned to snatch up the receiver. “Yes.” He glanced over at her, the heat from his gaze on her body making her want him again. “I see,” he said. “That’s fine. Thank you.” He hung up. His expression held appreciation as he took in her disheveled appearance. “The guard. He’ll have us out of here in a few minutes.” He tucked his cock into his pants, rearranging its fit before pulling up the zipper.
“Shit.” She reached for her skirt, stumbling as she tried to get it on.
“Easy.” He curved his fingers around her waist. “Let me help you.” Taking the skirt from her, he knelt. “Brace your hand against the wall.”
She did as he suggested. He lifted one of her feet, slipped the skirt underneath, then did the same with the other foot, taking care the fabric didn’t get caught on her shoes. When he pulled the skirt up her body, his fingers brushed against her calves, then her thighs and her hips before settling at her waist. As he stood, his chest rubbed her sensitive breasts as he reached around her, tugging up the zipper on her skirt. A sigh escaped her when he stepped back.
He bent over then straightened. “Sorry I can’t help you with your panties, they’re useless.” He held up the torn fabric before slipping them into his pants pocket. His eyes twinkled, and she knew he didn’t regret ripping them from her body.
“I think I’ll survive.” Tugging the camisole over her breasts, she glanced down. She could still see the bulge in his pants where his cock rested, then the bulge moved. Her gaze snapped up to his face. His teeth were gritted. Was he angry?
“Keep staring at me and everyone will know just how hard I am for you. And trust me, I have very little control where you’re concerned. I may have waited a while to make a move, but don’t tempt me to take you again in this elevator, rescue be damned.”
A husky laugh escaped her lips as she buttoned her jacket. “Maybe I don’t want to be rescued.” Where the hell were those words coming from?
“Witch.” He snagged her around the waist, kissing her until the elevator began to descend.
Once again, Joe knelt. Using his handkerchief, he picked up the used condom and tucked it into his pocket. Then he retrieved her purse and held it out.
Taking it, she forced herself to glance away from his magnetic eyes. She knew her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her breasts were still tender from his touch, and her sex still throbbed with heat. She wanted him again. But she fought the feelings. What was he thinking? Her emotions were tangled into one big knot. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. What did he think of her? His face gave nothing away. He slipped on his jacket just before the elevator pinged and the doors opened.
The guard stood there in his brown uniform, a concerned frown on his face. “Sorry I took so long. I was on my rounds and just heard the alarm a few minutes ago.”
“No problem,” said Joe, his voice steady.
“Ma’am?” The guard was staring at her. He was doubtless noting her flushed cheeks and the disarray of her hair. Inhaling, she forced herself to exit the elevator, ignoring the way her naked sex tingled beneath her skirt.
“As Mr. Bradshaw said, no problem.” Her hair cascaded forward and she pushed it back with an impatient hand.
“Maintenance should check the elevator out. I would hate for anyone else to get stuck,” said Joe. He shot her a meaningful look, one she chose to ignore.
“I’ll get right on it. Do you need someone to walk you to your car, miss?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
The guard looked at Joe.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Miss Collins.”
The guard nodded and took off down the hallway.
“Very good care,” Joe whispered in her ear.
Chapter 2
Joe slipped an arm around Vicki’s waist, cradling her body close to his. He couldn’t forget her soft moans of pleasure or how she’d exploded. His cock twitched. Her cheeks were full of color Was she embarrassed? Given what had just happened between them, he hoped not.
During casual conversation with co-workers, he’d learned she kept to herself most of the time, only occasionally joining a small group at Ed’s Saloon. When he asked if Vicki was seeing anyone, the answer was always the same. Not that anyone knew of, and if he was intending to pursue her, he’d need body armor.
Many of the guys had joked about how she froze them all out, never taking them up on a drink or a little bit of fun. And now he had an inkling of why she did it. She voiced worry about sexual harassment, so if he had to venture a guess, Vicki had probably been harassed in a job or two. He wouldn't do that, and if she told him to back off, he would.
But he had known there was more below the surface. One had to be willing to peel back the layers of prim Victoria to get to the explosive Vicki. And he was just the man to do it. Of course, he hadn’t meant to take her for the first time in an elevator, but when the opportunity had presented itself, he’d pounced. And now he wanted more. He only had to convince her.
“Where’s your car?” he asked as they stepped out into the crisp Seattle night, a hint of rain in the cool evening air.
“Mr. Bradshaw.” She turned toward him, back straight and hands at her sides, her lips pressed together almost as if she were angry. “I think this is where we say goodbye.”
Damn. Victoria was back in control, having shoved aside her sexual urges. Well, he wasn’t about to let her escape, not after tasting her sweet nectar. She hadn't said no or to leave her alone. His eyebrows rose, and he crossed his arms while he stared at her. “What are you afraid of?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of anything. Good night, Mr. Bradshaw. Have a good weekend.” She turned and strode away, her heels clicking against the concrete as she made her way to her Honda.
He followed. “Don’t think you’re going to get away from me, Vicki.” He placed his palm on her car door so she couldn’t open it. “I’m ruthless when I want something. And I want you.”
Apprehension and excitement skittered across her features before her face grew blank. “We can’t always have what we want.”
The bitterness in her voice shocked him. There was a story there. One he wanted to get to the bottom of. Then she shouldered his arm out of the way, opened the door, and climbed in. Slamming the door, she started the engine and pushed the old car to its limits as she tore out of the parking lot as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her bumper.
He grinned and sauntered over to his black ‘vette. Once inside, he eased down the zipper on his slacks, allowing his cock some breathing room as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Vicki did that to him. Made him hot and hard. She’d done it from the first time he’d seen her on the seventeenth floor, blonde hair tight against her head, only a little makeup, and the loose, drab suit, all intended to disguise her sexuality. He wasn't fazed by it. He had looked beneath the surface right away, and he had known he wanted her. He’d fantasized about all the ways he’d have her. On the desk, the floor, tied up on his bed, against the wall … the list grew bigger and bigger. Then to find out she wore garters ... his instincts were correct. Beneath the drab exterior lay a sensual woman.
Getting her alone had shot his control straight to hell. He hadn't planned on an elevator for their encounter. One thing he was sure of, he wasn’t sorry he’d fucked her. He could still smell the musky sc
ent of her arousal, the feel of her satin skin against his fingers, and the way her pussy had tightened around his cock.
He was sorry he'd had to wear a condom. Just the thought of feeling her squeezing his bare cock was almost more than he could handle, causing drops of pre-cum to drip on his pants.
But it was more than sex. He liked her spirit. He'd noticed how she interacted with the staff, helped them and never belittled them like some people did. She always had a kind word or smile.
The car wandered into the opposite lane on the winding road to his secluded home outside Seattle, forcing him to concentrate on his driving and not on thoughts of Vicki’s lush body. When he reached the top of his hill, he pressed the button and the gate opened. Security lights shone bright as he pulled in front of the sprawling white house sitting in its majestic splendor at the end of the circular driveway.
He zipped up and stepped out of his car, pausing to enjoy the night air. The scents of jasmine and pine filled the evening. The landscaping had been done to his specifications. Stone paths, pine trees planted every twelve feet apart, and jasmine in the backyard around the pool area. Even in the dark, he knew every path to the garden, the pool, and the tennis courts.
When he’d bought the place more than ten years ago, the house had just been built. He was tired of living in apartments with bothersome neighbors. He wanted a place he could come home to and feel free to do what he wanted, without worrying about who was watching or listening.
He stepped into the entry hall, flipped on the lights, and turned off the security system. The overhead chandelier lit up the room. Right in front of him was the hardwood staircase; off to the left was the chef's kitchen with a big island and plenty of room to cook. The dining room was big enough for dinner parties; to the right lay the living room with its perfect oak chairs and plush sofas for entertaining, while the family room had sofas and big comfy chairs to watch the 65-inch flat-screen TV. Beyond lay his office, which had every modern piece of technology available.
He still marveled at how far he’d come after starting off as a wet-behind-the-ears kid playing with computers. His carefree and careless life had ended when he was approached about a job with a company called Intelligence.
Within seven years, he’d become the CEO. Intent on his career, he’d invested most of his money. After selling his interest in Intelligence at a huge profit, he'd worked as a consultant, only taking the jobs he was interested in. When TechTronics approached him with an offer of a one-year contract for an obscene amount of money, he’d taken it because he wanted to spend more time at his home and he liked the challenge of creating something beyond company expectations.
His thoughts returned to Vicki. She was the marketing manager at TechTronics and their paths crossed on a regular basis. She was another challenge, one he was looking forward to experiencing. Rubbing his hands together, he bounded up the stairs to his bedroom, his cock still heavy with need.
He couldn’t wait until he had her alone again. This time he'd prefer someplace more private than the elevator. His bedroom would be a good choice. For a moment, he could imagine her spread-eagled on his bed, her nipples taut with clamps on them, her pussy glistening. He’d approach her at a snail's pace, making her squirm against the black Egyptian cotton sheets in anticipation.
Would she accept his kink? Her boldness in the elevator gave him hope, but he couldn't rush this. Shaking his head, he moved across the room. As he unfastened his pants, his palm brushed against the pocket. Reaching inside, he removed Vicki’s hair clip and held it up to the light. The design was intricate and unusual, old-looking. Did she find it in an antique store, or had it been a present? She'd asked for it back, yet he'd distracted her. He hadn't meant to keep it, but now he was glad he had.
Setting the clip on his dresser, he began to push down his pants when he realized there was something in his other pocket. Pulling out the scrap of lace, he smiled and tossed it onto his dresser. Her panties were just like Vicki, sexy and fragile.
He finished taking off his clothes, then sauntered back downstairs. He enjoyed being able to wander around his house naked. Privacy was a privilege he enjoyed. He headed for the kitchen and then grabbed a beer from the fridge. Cold air from the subzero refrigerator made him shiver. Popping the cap off the bottle, he took a long swig. His body still hummed from being with her. He wanted more. And there wasn't a whole lot in life he couldn't get. He had money and looks, and he used them to get what he wanted. But with Vicki, he wanted her to see him as a man, not just as his bad-boy persona.
She had aroused his curiosity. She tried to avoid attention. Perhaps that is what attracted his attention. Her outward appearance was not adorned so as to attract a man's attention, but it had drawn his notice immediately. Her muted clothes and lack of makeup extended to her interactions. In meetings, she was quiet and only answered questions when they were directed at her.
For some reason, Vicki was content not to be noticed. She was bright and she was beautiful, but she didn’t want anyone to realize it. Why? The mystery of her drew him as much as her quiet beauty.
The memory of holding her in his arms warmed him. Still naked, he ambled from the kitchen into his office. The soft leather caressed his skin as he sank down onto the executive chair. He turned on his computer and started searching for the information he needed about Vicki. Amazing what you could find on the Internet these days.
Vicki had no idea who she was up against. Joe hadn’t gotten his bad-boy reputation playing by the rules. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and he would use means fair and foul to get it.
He wanted her in his house, in every room, and in every position. But it was more than sex. He wanted to know what was going on in her mind as well. He would delve into her secrets using the oldest weapon in the book. Romance was the way to a woman's heart.
What the hell had she done? She’d had mind-blowing, wild sex with Joe Bradshaw, that’s what. Shame and embarrassment swept their way from her toes to her face. She had promised herself no more work entanglements. Joe was a complication she couldn't afford. Yet she couldn't deny a part of her reveled in the memories of Joe Bradsahw's hands on her body, cock in her pussy—
The sign for Poway Avenue in her headlights jerked her back to the present, and she took the exit, easing her sedan off Main. The sign for Ed’s appeared. The dampness between her thighs reminded her of her missing piece of clothing, and the hole-in-the-wall restaurant shrank in the rearview mirror. She needed to get home, back to her safe little world. Slapping a hand against the steering wheel, she muttered, “What was I thinking?” She waited until the light turned green. “That was the problem. I wasn't thinking, I let the wild woman inside rule.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Derek?
Thank goodness traffic was light. It only took her thirty minutes to reach her apartment building. She used her security card to open the gate to the garage and pulled her car into its parking space. As she got out of the vehicle, she ran her hands over the wool gabardine of her skirt, smoothing the garment.
After climbing the short flight of stairs, she inserted her card and waited for the light to flash. One of the reasons she’d chosen this apartment building was because you couldn’t get in without security card access. The on-duty guard made guests wait in the lobby until the tenant came down to collect them. “Good evening, George,” she called in an artificially cheery voice as she walked past the older, balding man.
“Evening, Miss Collins,” he replied.
Victoria stopped at her mailbox and extracted her mail, then walked to the elevator bank. Her breath caught in her throat as images of her and Joe flashed before her eyes. Shit, this wasn’t good. He wasn't going back in the box of "quickie." One-elevator stand instead of a one-night stand? Her lips twitched inappropriately. This was serious; she shouldn't be laughing at what she'd just done to her career.
The light above the elevator door announced its arrival on the first floor. Two peop
le came out. reminding her how lucky she'd been not to get caught. Had the office guard guessed? At least no one they worked with had been in the lobby when they arrived. She was positive her face had been stamped with the look of a satisfied woman.
The elevator doors started to close.
Suck it up. Unless you want to climb ten flights of stairs, you have no choice but to get in the elevator. She thrust her arm between the closing doors, trigging them to re-open. Biting her lower lip, she forced her shaky legs to budge. Once inside she punched the button for her floor, trying to ignore her racing heart. Get a grip.
Her apartment elevator had never gotten stuck before. Still, she let out a breath of relief when the door opened on the tenth floor. The last thing she needed was to replay of tonight.
Reaching her door at the end of the hall, she’d never been so glad to be home. Inserting the key into the first deadbolt, then into the second one, and at last unlocking the doorknob restored her peace of mind. The moment she stepped into her apartment, she flipped on the light. A dejected meow greeted her. “Oh, Sly. I’m so sorry.” The gray tomcat entwined his sleek body around her feet. “I didn’t think I’d be so late.” She pushed the door shut with her foot before leaning down and rubbing her cat behind the ears in apology. Sly hated being left in the dark, and she didn’t like coming home to an unlit apartment, either. She really needed to get a timer for the lamp so she wouldn't have to worry anymore.
Straightening, she turned and threw the two deadbolts, locked the door, and secured the chains. Then she dropped her purse and keys onto the entry table and glanced into her small living room. She paused. Was it always as unappealing as it seemed tonight? She stared at her furniture. Maybe it was the way the beige carpet and beige sofa almost blended together, or how uniform the pictures were on one wall. Or how there wasn’t anything reflecting her personality in the room. No family pictures, no knickknacks; everything was functional.