Tempting the Corporate Spy

by Angela Claire

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he muttered.

  She wanted to tear his oxford off, but he was already unbuttoning it, dropping it to the floor and revealing a ripped chest as she unsnapped his khakis, breathless to feel his whole body skin to skin. He yanked her shirt over her head, flinging it away, and reached for the drawstring on her pants, his warm fingers making the exercise of removing them sort of a caress, long, languid swipes along her thighs, her calves, then up again to between her legs.

  Once she was completely naked, lying on the couch at his urging, she closed her eyes as he leaned over her to tongue one breast, a hot wet sensation, and then the other. She groaned in appreciation as he sucked lightly, and one hand returned to caress her inner thigh and higher, the region he had so recently mastered.

  Proving how quickly he could yet again bring her to the brink of orgasm, he stood up, going for something in his back pocket before he started to pull the rest of his clothes off and in no time he was down to his boxers, his erection testing the cotton. She swallowed and pulled those down slowly herself, skimming his hip bones, his thighs lightly sprinkled with dark hair, and then off as he sucked in a breath, and the hardest, longest, thickest cock she had ever seen pointed right at her.

  She placed her thumbs on his flat abs, gripping his hips, and pressed her lips lightly to the tip of him, tasting the salty pre-cum, earning a groan. He was hot and smooth and she ran her tongue along his length. Another long lick and he drew away with a guttural, “I’m too far gone for that.”

  He joined her on the couch, and she scooted over to make room for him, the touch of his body hot and hard as he handed her the condom.

  “You want to put it on?” he asked in a hoarse voice, holding his weight off her, and she sat up a little to open the package and took his cock in hand. Massive and rock hard, it jerked at her touch. He laughed, low, as she rolled the condom on. “Even that feels good with you.”

  When she was done, he pushed her down, a little roughly, as if out of patience, and kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth, probing, his hot cock rubbing against her inner thigh.

  She opened her legs to him as he murmured something against her lips and she just caught, “I wanted this since I first saw you.”

  She didn’t care what he was saying. She had forgotten she could feel this into sex. Maybe she never had. By the time he had left her panting from his kisses and the warm, sure fondling of her breasts and slipped inside her, she was desperate for him and so turned on that even that big cock slid in smoothly. Wrapping her legs around his slim behind, she moved with him, against his thrusts as he started a quick, maddening rhythm.

  ...

  He slid inside her warmth, almost losing it right then she was so tight and wet, but just as quickly he pulled out again, the friction delicious, and then sank back into her, again and again, hard, trying to make her take him as deep inside her as she could handle.

  The little noises she was making spurred him on, and balanced on his forearms, he rode her, dipping down to kiss her now and then as he did, on her lips, the base of her throat.

  “God,” he moaned, thrusting harder, faster still, wanting to fill her completely, until she gave a sharp gasp that had him pausing. With tremendous effort, he stayed still within her, the pulsing of his cock his only movement. Breathing heavily, he gazed at her flushed face, her dark eyelashes against her cheeks, her own breathing more of a pant.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he rasped and she opened her eyes. The green of them sparkled in contrast to the black of her pupils. The heel of one of her feet grazed lazily along his ass, taut with the strain of keeping himself still, and she smiled.

  Oh, she was dangerous all right. And he wasn’t talking about any secret mission crap this time.

  She shook her head, and he buried his face in the silky strands of her hair spread out around her as her arms went around his neck. “No. You’re not hurting me Jon.”

  She dug her heel into his ass as she said it and he arched fiercely, pleasure shooting through him.

  “Yeah, well you’re hurting me,” he breathed as he started up again, trying to take it slower. “You’re killing me.”

  She let out that soft, sexy groan he could distinguish from any he had ever heard and clamped her long legs tighter around his ass and he wiped all thought from his mind.

  “Oh, that’s right, baby,” he coaxed in her ear. “Show me you like it.”

  “I…I…oh, God…”

  He milked every ounce of sweet response out of her, her fingers in his hair, her lips on his neck, her hot, tight inner muscles gripping him as he moved.

  “Show me how hot you are,” he urged, thrusting faster, and she moved against him. “That’s right. Just like that.” When he could feel they were both about to let go, he cupped a hand under her lush ass and gripped one cheek, pulling her impossibly closer as the sensation overwhelmed him and he poured into her.

  They came, together, fierce and shuddering, and he fell on top of her, giving her his full weight for a moment.

  God, she was incredible.

  He rolled to the side to let the poor girl breathe and when he could talk again, he asked, “You okay, Livvie?”

  Her breath was slowing, too. “Only Jen calls me Livvie.”

  He dropped a peck on her cheek, warm and salty with the sweat of their endeavors, and she cuddled up into his arms, fitting so naturally he was surprised. Surprised at how right it felt to be spooned up with Liv on her office couch, only just now realizing the enormity of what he’d done and how it would undoubtedly complicate what he had been trying to see as a simple situation.

  “I can’t believe I did that,” she said, unwittingly echoing his own thoughts with a girlish laugh that only made him feel guiltier. “I don’t usually do things like that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.”

  “I don’t? Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Right. Guys aren’t exactly falling all over me.”

  “Stop,” he admonished. “You don’t have to tell me that because it’s none of my business. And also, because you were so tight it was obvious you don’t make a habit of this very often.”

  “Still, you must think I’m some kind of slut or hard-up or—”

  “Shh.” His lips brushed her temple.

  “Jen says there’s no such thing as being ‘easy’ these days and I need to get over that kind of thinking. What do you think?”

  “I think there’s nothing wrong with two people who are attracted to each other, who like each other, finding pleasure with one another.”

  “You make it sound so clinical. Must be that consultant thing.”

  “Believe me, it didn’t feel clinical at all. It felt…” He shouldn’t say it. He shouldn’t. It was true, but he shouldn’t. He did. “It felt special,” he said softly, and she nestled her warm behind into his crotch, causing it to stir again, insatiable thing that it was.

  “It did feel special.” Her voice sounded lighter. “I probably sound so silly saying that.”

  “Not silly at all.”

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “What are we doing, Jon?”

  His cock was completely hard against her backside and he ached to slip it lower, into her from behind, and ride her while he watched her breasts jiggle. But he needed to get another condom.

  “If you really don’t know, I guess you’re a little more innocent than I thought.”

  “Oh no, I’ve done it.” Her hands covered his, wrapped around her waist, and she wove her fingers through his own. “But it was nothing like what we just did.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, guys at MIT are a special breed.”

  “I didn’t know you knew I went to MIT.”

  He stiffened. “Jen mentioned it.”

  “Oh, well I don’t know anything about you. I mean I didn’t even see your resume before Jen sauntered in with you.”

  “You weren’t missing much.”

  “Do you live around here? You must if yo
u came all the way back to the office tonight, right?”

  “Not far.” He had zero game plan right about now. She shifted and he felt a hot flash of desire again. His cock had a game plan at least, on hold and simmering.

  He had a whole cover story, fake address, the works, but with what they’d just shared, he didn’t want to give it to her. He tried for as honest as he could get. “I have a loft uptown.”

  She said nothing and he knew she was waiting for him to invite her there, maybe even tonight. And he would have of course, if it were anything other than this fucked-up situation. His loft was not the address on his fake resume. Jonathon Crestwell lived there, not Jon Foster.

  The longer he said nothing, the more the omission of an invitation was obvious. So he whispered, “Do you want to do it again?”

  Chapter Four

  They had done it quite a few times before Jon finally left with a smile, saying that unlike her he had no clothes at the office to change into. He ignored the offer to quit that he’d made in the heat of the moment, apparently not serious about it.

  And she was so confused by everything, she didn’t bother to do more than take a shower, pull on a skirt and sweater and sit at her desk staring at her computer screen.

  What was going on here? This was so unlike her. She felt…hopeful about a possible relationship. It was scary, and immediately her innate pessimism tried to rear its ugly head. This whole thing, the hot attention last night, the incredible sex, was probably how Jon Foster managed his consulting gigs. He was probably some kind of incredibly hot gigolo or male whore or something without Jen realizing it. HR would be getting a bill from him at some point, itemized for sex. How else to explain him coming back to the office and making the moves on her?

  Liv wasn’t the kind of girl a guy would obsess about enough to come back in the middle of the night to seduce. It was silly. Stuff like that just didn’t happen to her. Most guys reacted to her like the loser at the club.

  Usually deaf to any noise in the outer office, she heard the quiet opening and closing of the outer door—9:00 sharp—and was up and out of her chair before Jon had even taken his. He looked clean-shaven and more bright eyed than he should, especially since he couldn’t have gotten any more sleep than she did, about three hours, tops.

  She made a show of going to the coffee pot, prepared to make some, and he joined her at the sink. “Let me do that.”

  She flushed, unexpectedly shy now, and fingered the radio. “I should really take this up to Cecily.”

  She thought the easy humor he had shown her last night might resurface at the mention of the radio, teasing her about another dance, but scooping the coffee grains out appeared to require his full concentration this morning.

  She unplugged the radio, wrapping the cord around it. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.”

  Cecily initially greeted her with a confused smile, as if she couldn’t quite place her, but she was delighted to reclaim her radio. “Aren’t you a dear to bring this to me! I couldn’t remember where it had gotten to.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to touch base before you left. The office isn’t the same without you.”

  Boy was that the truth.

  “It’s just as well. You’re such a busy girl. Truth is, I was rather lonely.”

  So was Liv as it turned out. She just didn’t know it.

  With a quick hug and an assurance Peterson was treating her all right, Liv went back to her office. She ran into Jen, just walking toward the elevator, saying behind her shoulder, “No, that’s fine. Just fine. I’ll, ah, I’ll come back.”

  “Hi Jen. Sorry I bailed on you last night.”

  “Oh thank God!” Jen hustled her back into her own office, shutting the door with a slam behind them as Liv sat at her computer. “We have a problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “That gorgeous guy out there.”

  “How did you know?”

  “How did I know what? What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?” Liv shot back.

  “I ran Jon through that software thing-a-majiggy you developed for HR.” Jen approached the desk. “This morning.”

  “This morning? You’re supposed to do it before you hire someone. That’s the whole point.”

  “Well, I didn’t. And then I did because it needs to go in every new employee or consultant’s file. And look.” She elbowed Liv out of the way of the screen and typed on a few keys to bring up her files, pointing at one, the pre-hiring analysis of Jon Foster’s records.

  Liv read the conclusions. Her own software program was saying the guy she slept with last night was not Jon Foster. “His records were faked,” she said slowly.

  “Right! That’s what it says. So what do I do now? We can’t keep him on. I’m sorry. He’s a cutie, but I can’t put this in his file. I’ll get fired.”

  “There must be a rational explanation.”

  “Yeah. Like maybe he’s escaped from prison and is trying to go straight. Well, I’m sorry, but—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Liv said with a conviction she had absolutely no business feeling, since being really good in bed didn’t guarantee honesty or anything like that. In the clear light of day, she’d been worrying about whether he was a man whore, and about her own unexpectedly intense feelings, when maybe she should have been worrying about something worse.

  She went to the door and opened it. “Can you come in here, Jon?”

  He came in and sat down on the chair in front of her desk. Thank God he didn’t sit on the couch. Jen hovered nearby.

  Liv stood in front of her desk, leaning back against it to talk to him, not wanting to be as distant as sitting behind her desk implied. She was going to give him a chance here. She didn’t want to go jumping to any conclusions. “Jon, I developed this, well this sort of program, that detects when there are certain anomalies in certain—”

  He looked at her blankly.

  She decided to get right to it. “When we checked your records, they came up as fake.”

  He smiled, arching one dark brow. “Came up how?”

  She folded her arms over her chest, while Jen practically disappeared into a corner of the office. Jen was really bad at confronting great looking guys. Liv had no such problems, but she’d never tried to do it with a guy she’d just gotten out of bed, or off of couch, with.

  “It’s a computer program. It studies certain…well, never mind how it does it, but the conclusion it came to is, you’re not Jon Foster.”

  He shrugged. “That’s silly. Check again.”

  “I developed this program myself. Now, why did you falsify your records? What’s going on here?”

  He glanced over at Jen. “Can we be alone for a minute?”

  Jen looked in panic to Liv.

  “It’s okay, Jen. Just wait outside.”

  “Do you want me to call security?” she practically whispered and Jon laughed.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Liv assured her, ushering her out and closing the door behind her. When she was alone with him, she asked, “What? What is this?”

  He considered her, as if deciding something, and she said, “Fine. Jen can just fire you. She’ll have to do that anyway if you don’t have a good explanation.”

  “What would you consider a good explanation?”

  “I don’t know. My computer program’s faulty?”

  “It might be. Let me check it.”

  Check it? The guy who didn’t know to keep his passwords secret, computers “not his thing.” She was getting a bad feeling here. For one thing, he seemed way too calm. What was going on here?

  “No, your program must be pretty good,” he admitted. “I faked those records myself. They were top notch.”

  “You…why would you do that? If you’re not Jon Foster, who are you?”

  “I’m Jonathon Crestwell.”

  Her mouth fell open. “The hacker?”

  “I’m n
ot a hacker,” he snapped.

  And she supposed that was sort of true by now. He was a legend at MIT. Computer prodigy, graduated at 18, legions of exploits he’d never gotten caught for. He’d sold his first company for however many millions a decade ago and then dropped out of sight.

  Until he wound up here…as a management consultant?

  She collapsed into her chair behind her desk. “Really?” He was kind of a hero of hers. Well, of any MIT student. She tried to remember whether she had ever seen a picture of him and recalled the rumors said he was cagey about that.

  “Yes, really. Hacker implies—”

  “No, I mean are you really Jonathon Crestwell? The Jonathon Crestwell?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I am. So am I still famous back at our alma mater?”

  His casual conceit, along with whatever this subterfuge was, suddenly enraged her, and she sat up straighter and demanded, “What are you doing here? Pretending to be a consultant? I mean—wait a second, are you a consultant? Is this a new business venture for you or something and you just don’t want the baggage of your, ah, reputation?”

  His mouth tightened and he didn’t answer, an answer in itself.

  The silence was so long, his blue eyes staring right back at her, as if trying to decide what to say, that she finally filled the void. “What the hell were you doing here then? Doing what you were…” She gestured vaguely toward the couch.

  “What we were, you mean.” He nodded toward the couch and she wanted to slap his grim face. She knew she had made love with a relative stranger last night, but she didn’t know how much of a stranger.

  “What do you want? What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  “You’re actually pretty good.”

  For one furious second, she didn’t know if he was talking about the couch or not.

  “Your programming, I mean. That’s what I’m doing here. Trying to crack it. And I haven’t yet. So as I said, you’re really pretty good.”

  She was madder than if he had been talking about the sex.

  “You self-satisfied, treacherous asshole. Of course I’m good! I beat out every other guy in my class at MIT and there weren’t any other girls in that program or I would’ve beaten them out too.”