Kinky Claus

by Jodi Redford

  She discovered that firsthand fifteen minutes after they hit the expressway. In the process of minding her own damn business and doing absolutely nothing to encourage any rotten deviousness on his part, the vibe began buzzing. She jolted in the passenger seat, reflexively clamping her legs together. Oh hell. That sure didn’t help. If anything, it only intensified the sensation. Embarrassing noises humming from the back of her throat, she clenched her fists and shifted her weight from one butt cheek to the other. She didn’t want to know how ridiculous she likely looked performing her awkward dance.

  “Everything okay over there?”

  “Yeah, just peachy,” she responded in a high, breathy pitch.

  “You sure? Cause it seems like you might have some ants in your pants.”

  “You know damn well that isn’t what’s in my pants.”

  His husky chuckle washed over her like warm whiskey. “Mm, yeah. I have personal knowledge of the luscious little honey pot you’re hiding in there.”

  Oh Lord. Not with the honey pot again. By the time he proceeded to sweet snatch she’d be freakin’ done for. “How much do I have to pay you to give me that remote?”

  “Not happening.”

  Damn it.

  The vibe puttered to a stop and she was treated to a blessed reprieve for the remainder of the drive to the Carleton Towers, the tech center where she worked. She offered Trig a weak smile. “Sorry we’re not going to a fancy banquet hall or restaurant. My bosses are kind of cheapskates.”

  “No need to apologize. I was once someone’s date at a bowling alley wedding. All of the groom’s men wore matching satin shirts and rented shoes.”

  “Those wedding pics must be epic.”

  “You have no idea.” He killed the engine. “Stay right there.” He climbed from the vehicle and crossed to her side. Cracking her door open, he offered his arm.

  It was easy to assume that his good manners and attentiveness were a byproduct of his job as an escort, but the more time she spent around Trig it became clear that it was just the way he was hardwired. That’s partly why his bad boy naughtiness was so enticing. On the exterior he was a gentleman, but deep down he was as wicked as they came.

  She swiped her employee badge at the entry, unlocking the glass doors. Trig held the nearest one open for her to pass through and then followed her inside. He glanced around the vast atrium. “I’ve only been here a couple of times when Jane needed a lift to work. Kinda weird being in here after hours.”

  “I know. Sort of creeps me out. Guess I’ve seen Die Hard too many times. I keep expecting Hans Gruber to crash the party one of these years.” She crooked her finger. “This way.”

  They rode the elevator to the eighteenth floor and she guided them to the interconnected boardrooms where Halcyon Insurance always held their company events. The two rooms had been cleared and set up with a few dozen linen-draped tables. In addition to the cute little mini Christmas tree centerpieces, tiny pots of poinsettias held places of honor at each place setting. White twinkling lights peeked from the silk foliage of the topiaries flanking either side of the bar situated in the far corner.

  “Hey, this is actually pretty swanky,” Trig pointed out as he helped her from her coat and passed it to the attendant. He leaned down and brushed his lips over Marissa’s ear. “Only I don’t see a copier anywhere.”

  It took several beats to recollect Jane’s advice about the Xerox nookie. “Thank God for small miracles.”

  She led Trig farther into the room and stopped to introduce him to a couple of her coworkers. The older ladies goggled over him, blushing like schoolgirls while Trig pressed a gallant peck on the backs of their hands. The instant he turned his gaze toward the bar, the trio of women offered Marissa the thumbs up signal.

  He shifted his focus to them again. “Would any of you ladies care for a refresh on your drinks?”

  They all accepted his invitation and Marissa followed him to the bar to lend a spare hand with carting the beverages. Once they doled out the cocktails to their proper owners, they made their rounds amongst the remaining guests she wanted him to meet. He managed to charm the pants off of pretty much everyone, including her bosses.

  Pulling him off to the side, she clutched her wineglass to her chest and stood on her tiptoes to whisper near his ear. “I think you’ve officially put to rest the rumor that I’m in a lesbian threeway with Sid and your sister.”

  He grunted. “Leave Jane out of the equation, and that would be fucking hot.” He swept his gaze over her, his pupils dilating. “Jesus. You are one sexy mama. Do you have any idea how badly I want to bend you over one of these tables right now?”

  She licked her lips. “Why? So you can spank me?”

  “Yeah. With my big hard cock.”

  “Mm, is it hard?”

  “As a fucking baseball bat. Want to verify for yourself?” He stepped in front of her so that his back was to the room. Flipping the edge of his jacket up, he leaned forward as if he was going to say something to her, and casually tucked her hand against his fly.

  Oh Jeez Louise. He hadn’t been exaggerating. Damn good thing his suit coat was long enough to hide the incriminating evidence. Otherwise he’d really give the ladies something to ogle. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she fondled his rigid length through the fabric of his trousers and briefs.

  “Sweetheart, if you keep that up I’m gonna embarrass myself in my pants.”

  “Serves you right for tormenting me in the car earlier.”

  A sparkle lit his eyes, and she smothered a groan. Why did she go and remind him about the vibrator? Tensing, she steeled herself for the first nerve-frying jolt. Several seconds passed, and still it didn’t appear. Sliding her hand from his erection, she squinted at him. “You’re going to hit me with it when I’m least expecting it, aren’t you?”

  “Great suggestion, babe.”

  She really needed to learn to keep her mouth zipped. A waiter approached with a platter of steaming appetizers. Snatching one of the small plates, she selected a couple of the bacon-wrapped scallops. Nibbling at one, she offered its mate to Trig in hopes of a peace offering. Grinning, he popped the morsel into his mouth. She had a bad feeling she’d hold him off with tasty hors d’oeuvres only so long.

  A motion to the right of them temporarily distracted her and she shifted her focus in that direction. She blinked, her bite of scallop going down hard. Jason, one of the IT guys, was walking toward them. At his side was the McHottie. Judging from the intimacy of their linked pinkies, they were an item.

  Oh Lord. This was going to be...weird.

  The two men hauled short next to her and Trig. Jason offered her a hug and smiled at Trig before gesturing to the McHottie. “This is my boyfriend, Bob.”

  The McHottie’s name was Bob? She probably shouldn’t find that as hilarious as she did. And she definitely shouldn’t ask if he came with batteries. She accepted his handshake. “Err, very nice to meet you, Bob.” Somehow she snuffed her giggle.

  His forehead furrowed. “Are you sure we haven’t met before? You look really familiar.”

  Crap. Hopefully there wasn’t a mug shot of her somewhere on the Stalkers Anonymous website. Bob snapped his fingers, and her stomach churned. “That’s it. You’re always down in the cafeteria the same time as me.”

  “I don’t think so,” she stammered, desperately trying to play dumb.

  “Sure. I’ve seen you lots of times with those two other women. The loud one cornered me in line a few months ago and asked if I was strictly a McSausage man or if I ever dined at the Y.” He frowned. “I don’t think they even have McDonald’s at the YMCA.”

  She choked on a cough. Fortunately Jason inadvertently saved her any further mortification by spotting someone in his department that he wanted to introduce Bob to. The two men excused themselves, and she fizzled a silent sigh of relief. Trig trailed his fingertips along her nape, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

  He ducked his head toward her
s. “Yeah, I’m definitely glad he turned out to like dick. Dude woulda given me a run for my money.”

  She craned her neck to stare up at him. “How...?”

  “I guessed from your initial reaction when they walked up to us.”

  Wow. He’d been that tuned in to her? Hugging him, she rested her cheek on the lapel of his jacket. “You’d beat him in a landslide.”

  “Good, because I wouldn’t have been averse to playing dirty.”

  She fiddled with the undone top button on his shirt. “Well, you are the reigning king of dirty play.”

  A fierce vibration buzzed in her pussy and she jerked. Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around her. “You were saying?”

  “I stepped right into that.” Gritting her teeth, she rode out the intense burst of sensation. Once she was reasonably assured the quakes had ceased, she wobbled to the nearest table and slumped into a seat.

  One of the ladies already occupying the table plunked down her glass of wine and eyed Marissa with concern. “Sweetie, are you all right?”

  Using the toe of his dress shoe, Trig hooked the chair leg next to Marissa and scooted the seat out to join her. “Yeah, honey, you look a little flushed.”

  Turning toward him, she whispered from the corner of her mouth so only he would hear her. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Believe me, you already are.”

  That admission shaved a tiny edge off of her peevishness. It only lasted for a brief spell. The next forty minutes were the longest of her life as Trig tested exactly how much torture she could withstand.

  He started off with a deceptively mild-mannered faint hum that offered just enough vibration to make her shift restlessly while her bosses gave their excruciatingly boring state of the company address. By the time their server set a salad plate in front of Marissa, Trig had upped the speed a few notches, and she was forced to white-knuckle the edge of her seat in order not to whimper.

  “Ma’am, would you care for an orgasm?”

  Marissa jerked her attention upward and gaped at the waitress. “What?”

  “Would you like some dressing?”

  “Oh.” She squirmed, her décolleté growing damp as the vibe throttled at what felt like 7 million RPMs before dropping gears to a mere 500. “W-what kind do you have?”

  The woman droned through a mile long list of choices and Marissa struggled to focus on anything beyond the tantalizing buzzing between her legs. She desperately jumped at the last option that rolled from the server’s mouth. “Yes, the poppy seed vinaigrette. I’ll take that. Absolutely perfect.”

  The female gave her an odd look and went to fetch the dressing.

  Trig ceased his evilness and allowed her to eat her salad and the first several bites of her petite filet without the accompaniment of the devious bullet. She speared one of the roasted asparagus and lifted it to her mouth precisely the same instant the device kicked on again. It throbbed and pulsed in a random pattern, slowly building a decadent spiral of sensation that radiated outward from her G spot. The rhythm was both chaotic and controlled, leaving her alternatively craving and fearing the next purring rev that would push her past the precipice.

  She would not come in a crowded room, surrounded by her coworkers, for crying out loud. Even as she clung to that fervent prayer, she licked her lips in anticipation. Her clit tingled, greedy for the thrumming pulsations of the vibe. Or possibly the firm, teasing swirl of a fingertip. Whimpering, she slid her lips over the thick, blatantly phallic-shaped end of the asparagus stalk and bit down with a soft moan. Trig was staring at her, his meal apparently forgotten. Holding his rapt gaze, she finished chewing her bite of the vegetable and reached under the table. She snuck her hand beneath the napkin draped over his lap and stroked the huge bulge tenting his pants.

  The vibe suddenly shut off and he scooted back his chair, gingerly removing her hand in the process. “Of course I’ll escort you to the ladies room, sweetheart.” He slipped his fingers to her elbow, and ignoring her blank look, pulled her to her feet as he stood. After explaining to the whole table that she wasn’t feeling well—news flash to her—he practically dragged her to the exit. Truthfully, it was a good thing that he did because she was having a devil of a time walking straight.

  They stepped out into the hall and he steered her toward the stairwell. She was too dizzy and horny to question where they were going. He shoved open the door and hauled her up the stairs. Thankfully he only subjected her to one flight. They stumbled into the corridor on the nineteenth floor and he herded her into the ladies room.

  Okay, so he hadn’t been lying about taking her there. “Um, I really don’t have to—” She broke off on a gasping moan when he pushed her up against the wall of the closest stall and slammed his mouth over hers.

  Sliding his hand to the back of her head, he re-angled his approach, kissing her like he intended to eat her alive. Trembling and ravenous with need, she raked her fingers through his hair. His motions impatient, he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off before hanging it on top of the stall’s wall. She fumbled with his belt but before she could unhook it he spun her around and bent her over the sink. Nipping her bare shoulder, he shimmied her skirt up and cupped her between her legs. A hiss snaked from him. “Bad girl. Your panties are fucking soaked through.”

  She pressed back against him, shamelessly riding his hand. He yanked the crotch of her G string aside and stuffed two fingers in her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. The vibe had worked her over to the point that the tiniest pressure was poised to set her off.

  Trig reached around her and ripped several paper towels from the dispenser and stacked them on the basin. He removed the bullet and placed it on the towels before sheathing his cock with the condom he fetched from his pocket. The sound of that latex snapping in place swept goose bumps over her skin.

  He eased her panties down just enough to allow his cock to furrow along her labia. Gripping her waist with one hand and her neck with the other, he flexed his hips and slid inside her with a smooth thrust. The overwhelming fullness of him impaling her pussy sent shockwaves of pleasure scalding through her cells. She arched her back and bore down on his steel-hard shaft, sobbing at the delicious friction. Her poor clit throbbed, aching for attention. As if he’d gotten a direct memo from the agonized bud, Trig released her nape and tapped the pad of his finger on the bundle of nerves, igniting a shimmering flare of intense bliss.

  She broke apart around him, shuddering and wailing. Muffling the sound with his palm, he surged deeper, his unrelenting strokes driving her higher and higher on the peak, until she thought she’d die from the sheer nirvana of it. He bit her neck and pumped one last time, his drawn-out groan a rapture all its own as he pulsed within her.

  Heart racing, she leaned weakly against the sink and fruitlessly chased her breath. “Oh. My. God.”

  Trig chuckled. “You took the words right from my mouth.” He eased out of her and disposed of the condom in one of the paper towels. After zipping his pants, he washed the vibe and tucked it in his pocket for safe keeping. He used the rest of the towels to gently clean her up and resituated her underwear before turning her in his arms and indulging in a sweet kiss. Brushing his fingers across her cheek, he squeezed her hip. “Ready to head back?”

  “Yeah, they’re probably considering sending a search posse after us.”

  He pulled his jacket on and she tugged open the bathroom door. She stepped out into the hall just as two familiar figures darted into one of the recessed doorways. Blinking, she let the handle slip out of her grasp. What the...

  She headed in the direction of the rustling movement and hauled to a disbelieving halt in front of the entrance to the WorldCom suite.

  Jane blew a lock of hair out of her eye. “Oh hi! Imagine seeing you here.”

  Planting her fists on her hips, she panned a glare between Jane and Sid. “Have you guys been spying on me?”

  “No. Why would you suggest such a crazy thing?” Jane
adopted the fakest angelic expression in history. Seriously, the woman was incapable of anything involving the slightest hint of a halo.

  “Yeah, we were.” Sid sighed. “We were dying of curiosity about your boy toy, so we staked things out on eighteen, hoping for a sighting. It was kinda dumb luck, spotting you duck in the stairwell with him.”

  Oh shit. Her boy toy.

  Even as that thought and the ramifications of the situation whirled in her mind, the unmistakable whoosh of the door sounded behind her. She gulped.

  In slow motion, she watched Jane’s and Sidney’s gazes veer in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Rissa, what’s—” Trig’s voice trailed off.

  Witnessing her best friends’ jaws simultaneously hit the ground at lightning speed would have been comical under different circumstances. Wincing, she steeled herself for the incoming shitstorm.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Trig unglued his feet from the floor and hesitantly approached the trio of women standing in front of him. Judging from Jane’s befuddled stare she was having a difficult time processing the moment. Finally she broke from her trance and whipped her gaze between him and Marissa. “What in the hell is going on?”

  Before either of them could respond, Jane screwed her face into an expression of pure horrified disgust. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. I can’t believe I just listened to my brother banging my best friend.”

  He tossed up his arms. “That’s what you get for snooping at doors, you fucking weirdo.” He glanced at Sidney and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “No, you pretty much nailed that one. No pun intended,” Sidney replied dryly.

  “Could we please not talk about my brother nailing everything?” Jane hugged her torso. “As it is, I’m already looking at several months of therapy.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Quit being so melodramatic. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t throw a tizzy when you were dating Jack.”

  “That’s completely different.”

  “Mind explaining your warped logic on that one?”