by Kylie Scott
"Show me," she begged.
"Tell me."
"Brief. Retro, the full, old-fashioned style. They have lace panels and two little bows up the top."
"Like a real pin-up girl?"
"Yes."
"Fuck." He extracted his hand and pushed down his boxers. His hard-on stood high, the swollen head flushed a deep red. It bordered on painful. Alex wrapped his hand around himself and squeezed. "Are you coming over here?"
"No." The whites of her eyes flashed. "No, I can't."
He could be patient, though it would hurt. It would hurt a lot. "Then keep going. Don't leave me hanging, sweetheart."
"I undid my bra and you pulled down my knickers."
His hand moved idly up and down his cock, just warming things up. "Bare or with curls?"
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and she shook her head.
"Damn," he groaned. "Play nice, Vi."
"A girl can't be a little upset you don't even remember having sex with her? Seriously?"
"Fuck, I wish I did. You have no idea. How did we do it?" His hand picked up the pace. "Tell me."
"I pushed you back onto the bed and straddled you," she said, panting a little if he wasn't mistaken. "You had one of my nipples in your mouth. But you stopped sucking long enough to tell me there were some condoms in the bedside drawer. The pack was new. You got cranky when it took me a while to open it. You used your teeth on me."
"Shit. I did?"
She suddenly grinned. "Yes. I liked it. There's a little bruise on the side of my left breast. I think of you every time I see it."
"God damn it." His hand picked up pace again and Vi rubbed her thighs together.
"I undid your jeans and pushed them down, got the condom on you," she said. "We were kissing like crazy."
"Did you like it? Kissing me?"
"I loved it. We were a mess." Her eyes looked foggy, dreamy. "But it was so nice."
"Only nice?"
"It was perfect. Are you going to come?"
In reply, he brushed his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading pre-cum. A gorgeous flush had spread across her breasts. Thank God for a woman in a low-cut neckline.
"You're going to come," she sighed. "Pull up your shirt so I can see."
He tugged his t-shirt up fast, exposing his stomach and the trail of hair leading toward his groin. "You stayed on top of me?"
"Yes. It'd been a while. And we didn't really do foreplay."
Alex paused, breathing hard. "What? Did I hurt you?"
"Relax. You're large, but you're not scary." She grinned. "It felt so good, sinking onto you, taking you hard and fast like that. And God, the expression on your face, the way you looked up at me."
"Vi." His hand kicked back into motion. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. The woman was truly inspirational when it came to talking dirty. Sure as hell, he felt inspired. "Don't stop."
Her hand slid over her stomach and downwards. She ground the heel of her palm into the top of her pussy for a moment. Pushing against the layers of clothing, trying to get at her clit, no doubt.
"Did you come, riding me?" he asked, so close now.
She nodded jerkily. "Yeah. It's easy on top. Harder in other positions."
"Keep going," he gasped, his whole body tense and his hips moving. His head full of thoughts of Vi in other positions. In any position with him buried inside her. "Nearly there."
"You had your hands on my breasts, squeezing them. And I didn't stop until I came. It was so good, I didn't even realize you hadn't. But you grabbed my hips and you were pushing up into me, really hard. And--"
"Vi," he groaned. Come spurted out of his cock and onto his belly, running hot over the side of his still moving hand. Gray noise filled his head and the lights flickered. Fuck yes. Slower and slower his fingers stroked, milking the last drops. She didn't take her eyes off him and no way could he look away.
"It hurts," she whispered.
He beckoned to her with his clean hand. "Come here."
But instead she pushed her body back into the chair, blinking furiously as if she'd woken startled from a dream. All the heat and hunger dropped from her face.
"At least you used my name this time," she said.
What the fuck?
"Last time, you called me Jane," she explained.
No, no, no. Shit. His jaw turned to stone.
"Who is she?" Vi asked.
"My ex-wife."
She gave him a grim smile. "Of course she is."
Talk about a hard landing after the high. He felt hollow inside. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, balled it up and tried to clean himself. "I, umm--"
"I know. It's okay. I'm sorry too. These things happen, right? Why don't we both just be about our business?"
"Yeah. Violet, was this some sort of revenge for you? Because, I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty fucking small right now." Come was sticky shit and it was all over him and his fast-deflating cock. Fuck it. He threw down the shirt, yanked up his underwear and jeans, covering himself quickly. All the better to get rid of the feeling that she'd just ripped him open for her own amusement. "Is that what you wanted? To bring me down to size?"
"No." She blinked some more, eyes alarmingly bright. "Honestly, I'm not sure what this was. But you started it. I didn't ask you to come in here."
"Fuck me." He ground his teeth and tried to hold back the anger bubbling up inside. "No, you just asked me to get my dick out and perform for you."
"True." The woman stood and straightened her dress. "I guess we're both to blame. Again."
He snorted. "Yeah. Guess so."
If he wasn't mistaken, her legs shook as she crossed to the door and flicked the lock. But it didn't make him feel any better.
She cleared her throat. "I love my new job, Alex. And you're clearly still in love your ex-wife."
She was wrong. Worlds and worlds of wrong. But what could he say?
Vi walked out the door and he was grateful for it.
Chapter Three
What drove Alex nuts was his inability to ignore her.
After he'd snapped at his little brother for the umpteenth time, Duncan had exiled him to the back office. Alex could prepare the paperwork in order for tax time. Three hours had passed since then. The same screen still sat on the computer monitor, not one iota of information added to the neat columns of figures. They were a blur before his eyes. Meaningless gobbledygook.
At least, hidden in the office, he couldn't be tempted to watch her. But it did mean he was trapped in the same room where they'd last butted heads and messed with body fluids. What a fucking unwelcome memory. He'd done his best to purge it.
First, he'd relocated the chair she'd sat in to a storage room. In fact, both of the wooden chairs were gone, because he couldn't be sure which one she'd used. As truly remarkable as he found her round derriere to be, it left no obvious impression in hardwood. So they both went.
Not overkill in the least.
He could man up and forgive himself for feeling a little sensitive about the whole thing. The last year had been a tough one and his run-in with Violet just capped it off. It was better with the chairs gone. He felt less messy, more himself.
Except for the leather couch sitting directly opposite. It mocked him.
The memory of jerking off in front of her was far too fresh. What a fool he'd been, an overheated, horny idiot with his dick in his hand and his heart on his sleeve. The lounge had to go. And really, the damn thing had been there for decades at least. Their dad had brought it. Time for a change.
"Fuck it," he muttered, resigned.
How heavy could it be?
Turned out, lots. He had the three-seater monster pulled away from the wall and was straining to get it near the doorway when Violet came rushing in. She gripped her hand tightly with a bloody napkin wrapped around one finger. His throat squeezed.
"What have you done?" he barked.
"It's just a little cut. Where's the first aid?"
"I was wiping off a blade with a cloth. Wasn't paying enough attention. Stupid." She fussed about in the open cabinet while he examined the bloodstained napkin. Ah shit, what a mess.
"It probably needs stitches." He tried to look at it, but the blood made his head swim. He'd never been good around the stuff. It made him all sorts of squeamish. Instead he concentrated on her high, fancy hairdo and the pair of chopsticks she had sticking out of it. She wore a black kimono-type dress to match. Low-cut neckline, damn her. "I'll just drive you to the hospital. That'll be best. They'll deal with it."
"What? No, it's fine." Vi tore into an antiseptic wipe and started picking away the napkin.
He couldn't look. The thought that she'd hurt herself, that that was her blood... Actually, the thought of any blood at all pretty much did it. He tried not to gag.
"Alex?"
"Mm?"
She tore off the last of the napkin and blood oozed from a slice below her pinkie finger's second knuckle. "Are you all right? You've gone really pale."
"I don't like blood."
"I see. Why don't you go sit down?"
"Yeah. I might do that." Happily, it was only a few steps to the lounge since it now sat in the middle of the room. Deep, even breaths and he'd be fine. He just couldn't look at her. But really, there was nothing new in that. He heard a Band-Aid being ripped open. Little shuffling noises as she dealt with the wound. The buzzing in his head gradually calmed. His stomach settled. "You're sure it isn't deep? You don't need stitches?"
"No, it's fine. I really should have been watching what I was doing more carefully."
He nodded, studied the floor. Had she been as preoccupied as him, then?
"Everything okay?" John asked from the doorway.
"Yes," said Vi. "It's fine. I'll be right out."
"Not with an open wound. We're nearly finished for the night. Head home," his brother said and then scowled at him. "Dude, the lounge now? Seriously?"
"It's time for a change," Alex said.
John just stared.
"It's old!"
His elder brother turned and left with a sigh, but no further words. Thankfully.
Alex could feel her eyes on him. Not the most comfortable sensation. The smile he gave her felt plastic, fake. "All better?"
"Yes." She looked around, eyes lingering on the space where the wooden chairs had been. Then the space where the lounge now sat, with him on it.
"Redecorating?" she enquired.
"Yep. I'll give you a ride home."
"I can drive," she said. "Thanks."
"You've just been injured in the workplace."
"Alex, it's a glorified paper cut. You're the one who nearly fainted."
"Please."
She opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. "Look, I don't think us being alone together is a good idea. Surely you can see that. The cut's tiny--"
"Hey," Duncan strode in, oblivious. "John said you needed a hand moving the couch?"
"Ah, yeah. That'd be great," said Alex. "Vi, just gimme a minute here, all right?"
Even her glare was cute.
He should probably just have "idiot" tattooed on his forehead and be done with it.
"Let me do this first," he said. "Then we'll check on your finger. If it's stopped bleeding and you're feeling fine then no problem. Okay?"
Eventually she nodded.
"Good."
Normally, Violet would have enjoyed the sight of two pretty men stretching and straining, with muscles flexing. But these were two of her bosses. Seeing them in any sort of appreciative sexual light was bad-girl behavior. Still, the big old leather lounge had to weigh a ton. Alex and Duncan grunted and heaved and maneuvered it along the hallway then down a set of stairs into the basement.
"Shit," Alex panted. "Vi, can you please get the doors open?"
"Umm..." She hesitated, standing behind them and their load. There wasn't a lot of clearance room between the men, the lounge and the wall.
"Move over a bit," Alex said. "Give her some space."
They did so. Damn it. Her hefty hips weren't going to squeeze through easily. This wouldn't be pretty.
"Come on," said Alex.
"Right." She pressed herself against the wall and did her best to slide herself along. Her boobs stuck out and her butt caught on stuff but she managed to reach the far end. Finally. Without meeting Alex's gaze.
The storeroom had two big old wooden doors with a barrel bolt up top and another down the bottom. It took some serious wriggling to get those bastards unlocked. Dust and stale air greeted her as she pushed the doors open and got out of the guys' way.
"Light, please." Alex nodded to a cord hanging down from an old-style lighting fixture in the middle of the room. She tugged on the string and the place lit up.
The middle of the space was empty, but the rest was cluttered with junk. There were some other chairs and a line of shelving with bottles lined up neatly. Some old signage leaned against one wall. How fascinating. The Southern Cross Pub had to be almost a century old and this collection reflected that. Towers of boxes stood stacked in the corner along with a collection of dusty old paintings. Gorgeous old painted velvet pictures from the sixties of buxom girls in bikinis.
With a groan, Duncan lowered his end of the lounge and Alex carefully followed suit. The musculature in his arms moved in enticing ways. What she wouldn't give to trace it with her tongue. Her pussy squeezed tight, sadly empty. Honestly, girl bits shouldn't clench. It had to be bad for her health on some level. Looking at the bikini babes was much safer.
"These are great," she said.
"Hmm?" Alex came up behind her, still breathing heavy from lugging the lounge about. "Huh. I haven't seen those in years. Mum was mad about Elvis. She loved Blue Hawaii. Everything was coconut shells and leis for a while there."
"Sounds cool."
"It was interesting. Dad did his best to ignore it. He was more a footie and pie and peas kind of man."
Beneath her silk dress, the skin on her back prickled in awareness. She couldn't think straight with him that close. Her mind had officially checked out for the evening. She had nothing. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice at the memory. Marie had told her their parents had passed away a while back. What good people they'd been. Vi's heart ached for him.
"How's your hand?" he asked.
"Oh, it's fine."
Which was when she heard the scrape of the bottom of the door across the floor. Next came the noise of bolts being jammed back into their locks, first the top and then the bottom. She spun around, as did Alex. The doors were indeed closed. They were locked in.
"Duncan!" he yelled, running to the door and banging on it with both fists. "Open up! Duncan! God damn it, this is not funny!"
There was no reply.
Of course there was no reply. It's not like locking them in could have been an accident.
The doors didn't open, no matter how hard Alex pounded on them. And he did. But with the music still pumping above, no one would have heard him. Apparently this didn't bother Alex, because he went on and on, trying to break the doors off their hinges. There seemed little point in joining in, the man ranted and raved enough for both of them.
She sat herself down on the lounge, bemused or bewildered. It was hard to tell which. For certain, she'd been involved in some nonsense in her time, but this felt like pure high school tomfoolery.
Alex just carried on.
Eventually, he stopped. His hands hung clenched at his sides and the veins in his arms stood out in stark relief. The muscles in his neck seemed to have thickened in rage. And yes, she was angry too, but did he have to mind quite so much? A stupid thought, but it was there nonetheless.
"Are you all right?" she asked politely.
He grunted some sort of reply.
Fine, if that's the way he wanted to play it. No problemo. The music from the bar thudded through the floor, the noise muffled, as though they were listening to it underwater. She smoothed out the skirt of her dress and crossed her ankles.
Breathed.
Waited.
Alex kept his back firmly to her. God, he was behaving like a jerk. Why did she always sleep with the jerks? Why? She really needed to know.
He didn't move, didn't make a sound. Conversation was overrated, anyway. Pity she couldn't keep herself quiet. Nervy situations did that to her.
"So, your brother locked us in here together," she said, stating the obvious.
"So it would seem," he ground out. The man turned, fisted hands propped on his hips and face starkly furious.
"Do you and your siblings normally get up to these sorts of hijinks?"
He gave her an even frownier face. It only spurred her on.
"You know, like locking people in a room together?" she asked. "Drawing up breast size flow charts? Those sorts of things?"
Alex wandered over, arms crossed. "What, like taking advantage of your inebriated boss? Demanding he jerk off in front of you? Those sorts of things? That what you mean, Vi?"
"Hey, don't be mad at me. I'm not the one who locked us in here," she said, her chin inching higher. "Besides, those things were different."
"Really? Were they?" He threw himself onto the lounge beside her, making her cushion bounce. He stretched his arms out across the back of the chair, as was his wont. Not touching her, just coming very close. His frown suddenly softened into something else entirely and the air left him on a sigh. The man was mercurial. She couldn't keep up.
"Not those sorts of things, huh?" he asked. "Sound like hijinks to me."
A hint of a smile from him and her guard dropped like her knickers that night at the party. God it was depressing. She could feel them dragging down around her ankles. Leaving her completely defenceless, damn it.
She did her best not to smile back at him. "No. They're closer to shenanigans. And shenanigans are entirely different."
"Are they now?" he asked, eyes amused. "How about that."
She nodded, pretending not to notice when he shifted closer. As if she could ignore him. What a myth. She crossed her legs, leaning ever so slightly in the opposite direction, trying to keep a safe distance between them. And she kept right on leaning until she overbalanced and fell into the arm rest with a squeak. Because she had all the style, didn't she?
Alex looked away too late, she'd already caught his grin.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said, righting herself.
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