by Chloe Lane
The moment she’s out of sight, I push the chair back from my desk, moving toward the door to my office as fast as I possibly can without looking like I’m rushing. There’s nobody in the hall, so I can cut across it to a private bathroom—there are two of them at the firm, and one of them happens to be a few doors down from my office, the door blending in with all the others.
My face is hot by the time I lock the door behind me with a violent twist of the deadbolt. I have my pants unzipped in a second and wrap my fist around my cock, pumping it with hard strokes. Emma fills my mind—her breasts rising and falling under her brand new tops designed not to show me anything I might want to see, the flirtatious light in her eyes, the tongue that darts out over her lips when she’s thinking—and I want her in here with me, hands pressed up against the door, legs spread wide, so I can impale her sweet pussy onto my cock, over and over again, ravaging her, until she’s coming all over my shaft, the juices soaking me, hands gripping her slim hips—
All of me tenses. Jesus, I’m so close, and she’s not even here—
Somebody knocks hard on the door. “Occupied,” I grunt through gritted teeth, and then I can’t help it. I’m exploding, thick streams of come firing into the water, one hand braced against the wall, barely keeping me upright.
I suck in a breath as my cock goes soft in my hand.
Shit.
It takes me several minutes, as I flush away the evidence, wash my hands carefully in the sink, and pat at my face with a damp paper towel, to get control of myself. I adjust my tie, straighten my posture, and pull open the door to the bathroom like none of this ever happened.
When I step out into the hallway, the first thing I see is Emma, walking in the other direction, that sweet, perfect ass cupped by her skirt…and I’m hard again.
Stop her right now. Everything in my body screams it, wants it, needs it.
I open my mouth.
7
Emma
Sitting across the desk from Mr. Kane is becoming sheer torture, and I’m glad for the chance to walk down to the deli to pick up the sandwiches, even if it’s just as hot outside as it is under the rose pink shell I’m wearing under my form-fitting dove gray skirt suit. By far, the most risqué thing about the suit is the short sleeves, but the way Mr. Kane looks at me, I might as well be wearing the kind of black lacy lingerie I’ve never had the courage to buy for myself.
Not that anyone would have seen it.
Ten steps past the doorway to the office, I lift my hand to my shoulder, checking—
No purse.
“Shoot,” I mumble under my breath, turning on my heel to rush back into the office.
His frame at the end of the hallway is what catches my eye, the crisp white shirt standing out against the firm’s paneled walls, but his expression is what captures me right then—mouth slightly open, eyes narrowed, glowing with need and heat so tangible it’s like a crowd of people standing with us in the hallway.
Was he following me?
“Did you need something, Mr. Kane?”
He snaps his mouth closed, letting a grin play over his lips, and those blue eyes, deep like the ocean, send tantalizing shivers down my spine. “No, Ms. Mason,” he replies with a kind of cocky confidence that makes me think he doesn’t care if there’s anyone else who can hear him, and why would he? This is his domain. “It looks like you forgot your purse.”
“I did,” I say. “You caught me.”
He lets out a laugh as I move back into the office, grab my purse off the center of my desk, and hitch it over my shoulder.
Mr. Kane is coming in through the door when I reach it to go out, and he steps back, pressing himself almost against the frame to let me by.
“Excuse me,” he says, the jovial tone still the most obvious one in his voice, but there’s a low rumble underlying it that sends images flashing through my mind of him bending me over, holding me in place, and…
“I’ll be right back with lunch,” I manage to choke out, slipping past him. Our skin doesn’t touch, but I can feel the heat blistering between us in my cheeks when I get a whiff of his cologne, lightly applied but spicy, the kind of scent only a slightly older man would wear, not the boys who pursued me when I was in college.
It’s not until I’m outside on the street, the heat soaking into the shoulders of my jacket, that I can suck in another full breath. Even looking at Maxwell Kane has me soaking under my skirt.
If this keeps up, I’m going to have to—
“I’m going to have to keep an extra set of panties in my purse,” I say out loud, giggling a little. Two men in expensive tailored suits step around me on the sidewalk, one giving me a sidelong look, and I arrange my face into a neutral expression.
He might just be driving me crazy…
* * *
All weekend, I swing between the unbearable, inescapable need to get off and a deep gratefulness that I don’t have a roommate.
I can’t stop thinking about Maxwell Kane.
I can’t stop wondering what he’s doing right now. Does he live alone? He doesn’t have a wife, which is something everyone in the city knows by now, but maybe he has some kind of…companion?
I’m breathing hard, coming down from another orgasm, splayed out on my own sofa, when the thought crosses my mind.
The scowl that twists my lips takes me by surprise.
Is it really any of my business if Maxwell Kane has a girlfriend…or even someone to keep his bed warm at night?
No! Of course not.
Of course it’s not my business if my gorgeous, sexy boss has needs of his own, if he doesn’t want to slip between cold sheets at the end of a long day.
It could be me.
My mouth drops open a little at the thought, and the hum between my legs begins again—it doesn’t matter that I just lost myself in a thirty-minute fantasy of being bent over his desk at the firm, that confident, commanding voice telling me what to do. It would feel so good, to have someone else be in total control, after all those days at the café, all those nights wondering what I’d do if I couldn’t get a good-paying job…
It could be me between those sheets.
I hook my thumb in the waistband of my panties again, fingers dancing over my swollen clit. Oh, God, it’s almost too much, but I need it, I need the release so badly.
In this fantasy, his eyes light up when he sees me waiting for him in his bed, naked and ready for him.
“Emma,” he growls, stripping off his tie, loosening the threads of his buttons in his hurry to remove his shirt, to expose his washboard abs, the solidly built muscles of his arms…
“Mr. Kane—”
He comes to the side of the bed and lifts me, quickly but not roughly, turning me so that I’m on my hands and knees, my pussy exposed to him, and he spreads me wide, so wide that I gasp.
“I want you in this bed, Emma. I’m tired of being alone—I’m tired of being without you.”
His hands play over my skin while he says the words, and each touch of his fingers leaves a trail of tingling heat that centers on my pussy.
“Please, Mr. Kane. Please, touch me. Please—”
My lips move around the words, even though nobody is here to hear them, and I’m still begging when my fingers work harder over my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge until finally I tumble over it, my hips rising from the surface of the couch, the release sweet and edging on pain all at the same time.
When I can get up, I push myself off the couch and stand, taking in a purposeful breath.
I need a shower.
And then I need a solution.
I can’t go on like this much longer.
8
Maxwell
Monday morning, and I’ve got a full day in court. Normally I would be thriving on this kind of packed schedule, chomping at the bit to be able to argue on behalf of my clients, but being in court isn’t the same since Emma came on the scene and rocked my world without so much as a single touch.
We have to stand next to each other at the prosecution’s table, her firm body so taut with energy while she watches the proceedings with those animated light blue eyes, taking in everything, scribbling down notes, biting at her lip when she’s concentrating…
And I have to focus on anything and everything else. The stern expression on the face of the judge. The words tumbling out of the next witness’s mouth. It’s easier if the client isn’t in the room with us, because then I can sit down to hide my frequent raging erections.
It’s not like I can just step out of the courtroom at any time.
I’m already in a bit of a stormy mood because this day is just going to drag on and on until I can get back to my apartment and—
“Mr. Kane?”
Emma stands in front of my desk, three different folders in her hands, one for each of the first cases we have lined up today.
“Ms. Mason.” Stormy mood or not, I can’t help smiling at her. She takes such exquisite care with her hair, with her makeup, with her elegant outfits.
I want to tear those clothes off her body and undo her hair, letting it spill down her shoulders, pulling it back in my fingers so I can expose the creamy skin of her neck and lick down the length of it, making her gasp—
“Were there any other copies you wanted made before we head into court? I have all the preliminary documents here, some notes—”
I stand up from my chair and come around the desk toward her. The closer I get, the more her breathing picks up, though she tries her best to hide it. She lets out a long, slow exhale as I come to stand beside her, and it’s obviously meant to steady herself in the face of the lustful energy zinging between us.
“Here’s what I have.” She opens the first of the three folders, flips through the papers, and moves on to the second one while I look over her shoulder. My hands ache with the need to touch her, but I keep my arms crossed firmly over my chest.
“All of this looks good.”
She glances up at me with a smile full of pride. “Great. I’ll just gather together the rest, and we’ll be all set to go.”
Emma turns back toward her office just as I remember a witness statement that came in last night that needs to be added to the paperwork we’ll take into the courtroom.
“Emma, there’s just one thing—”
She turns back on her heel, the momentum carrying her forward too quickly, just as I’m reaching for the paper on my desk, and when she jerks to the side to avoid running into one of the chairs in front of my desk, she collides with me instead.
“Oh—”
Her full breasts press against my ribs, and instinctively my arm goes out, wrapping around her to steady her, to make sure she doesn’t fall.
“I’m—oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kane,” she says, but even while she says it, her body doesn’t pull away. In fact, it presses even closer to mine. The only space between us is taken up by the three folders in her arms.
She’s so close I can smell her shampoo, its light, clean scent, and a hint of some body spritz that reminds me of sunscreen and fruity drinks.
Damn it, I can’t let go of her.
I have to let go of her.
Someone could walk by my office door at any minute, and then Harwood will have my ass out on the street. He’s already got it out for me, and even Pierce won’t be able to save me if the big story is that I couldn’t keep my hands off the firm’s newest associate, and worse yet, that I couldn’t keep my hands off of the woman who’s supposed to make me look good—
But Emma is breathing hard as she raises one hand to press against my chest, the pressure so light that it barely makes an impact. I look down into her eyes, those wide, innocent blue eyes, and something flashes there in her expression. She needs something more than that innocence. The knowledge hits me like a punch in the gut, like a lightning strike. Her pink lips are parted, and Jesus, she’s so close…
My cock jumps between us, and she sucks in just the tiniest gasp, the sound sending spikes of lust rushing from my shoulders to my fingertips.
“Mr. Kane—”
God, do I want to hear her moan that while I take her, while I fill her with every inch of me, while I make her come again and again until she’s so totally spent and sated that I have to carry her to bed. The force of her is so powerful that I find myself leaning in—I’m going to kiss her, every cell in my body demands it—leaning toward her, the distance between us shrinking, and she’s not pulling back, she’s staying just where she is, one arm wrapped around her folders and the other clutching the front of my shirt—
“Emma—”
A door slams down the hall, and Emma leaps back so fast she almost catches one of her feet on the chair, her face turning a deep red. I reach out with one hand, catching her elbow just in the nick of time, letting go the instant I know she’s stable.
Two of the other associates are coming down the hall, their voices rising and falling, and I look into Emma's eyes. I know exactly what she’s thinking.
That was close…too close.
9
Emma
I can’t take it anymore.
After what happened before court this morning, there’s just no way I can keep coming to work like this, every nerve on fire for him, every thought in my head about him, every pulse between my legs begging me to do something drastic so that I can have Maxwell Kane.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I worked hard all the way through college and law school, dismissing the boys who wanted my time but not to make any kind of real commitment, keeping my eye on the prize, paying my dues so that I could have a real career, a life outside of men…
And here I am, in the best job I could have dreamed of getting when I graduated in September, learning from one of the most well-known lawyers in the city, and I’m overtaken by my own need, by lust.
So is he, a little voice in the back of my head whispers.
It’s true.
Maxwell Kane wants me, just as much as I want him.
But we can’t do this.
He’s technically my boss, and if anyone ever found out, it could ruin my reputation in the city and maybe across the state. Lawyers are a well-connected bunch, and a reputation as the office slut wouldn’t do me any favors.
None of it makes the heat between my legs any less intense. None of it makes my second set of panties any less soaked as I march down the street in the afternoon summer sun, my skirt suit jacket shoved unceremoniously into my oversized purse.
It’s time to take action.
Before I give in to Maxwell Kane—before I give in to my own crazy, filthy, forbidden fantasies—I need to try one more thing.
The door of the shop is whisper quiet when I press my fingers against it, and I step inside into a blast of chilled air that feels heavenly against my overheated skin.
It’s not what I expected at all.
The sex shop I looked up hastily on my phone fifteen minutes ago isn’t the seedy place I imagined it would be, with a woman in a corset behind the counter, dimmed lights, and loud music. Instead, it’s more like a drugstore than anything else. Products on shelves. Fluorescent lighting. And a woman in a black tank top, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. While the bell tinkles against the door behind me, she looks up from a catalogue she’s looking through on the counter in front of her and gives me a smile. “Hi. Is there anything I can help you find?” Her tone is as natural as any cashier’s, and some of the tension dissolves from my shoulders.
“I’m—I guess I’m just looking.”
I’m not just looking. I’m here to make a purchase, and I have something in mind, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
“No problem.” She looks back down at the catalogue and flips a few pages. “Let me know if you need any help.”
The back wall seems to be where they keep—and I’m almost too embarrassed to think the word, much less say it—the dildoes, so that’s where I head, keeping my chin up as if this isn
’t my first time doing this. The woman behind the counter is definitely not judging me, but still, there’s a hot flush creeping up from underneath my jacket. Maybe I should have chosen a shop that wasn’t quite so close to the firm…
Never mind that. I’m already here.
The back wall has quite the selection, and by the time I’m standing in front of it, my body is screaming at me to turn around and go back outside, walk away, and forget this ever happened.
There are cocks of every size, contained in glossy packaging, all along the shelves. It looks like a million of them, and they mostly seem to be arranged by…size.
Oh, God.
My instinct is to grab one of the smaller ones, shove it underneath my arm, and pay as quickly as possible, but the throbbing heat between my legs begs for more. Bigger, my mind whispers as I look at each one of them in turn. Bigger.
By the time I reach the other end of the wall, I’m sure my eyes are popping out of my head. These ones are too huge by far, bordering on ridiculous. I couldn’t even fit one of them inside of me.
“That must be the size of my arm.”
“For sure.” The comment startles me as much as the realization that I said anything out loud. She’s a quiet one, that woman from behind the counter.
My hand flies to my chest. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry.” Her smile is a genuine one, and she stands at my side, looking at the wall with me, her arms crossed over her chest. “You looked like you might need some help picking one of these bad boys out.”
“I’ll say. You have about a thousand of them.”
“Not quite. But close.” The corners of her mouth turn upward. “Are you between two? Deciding on a size?”
“I think—” I swallow hard. I need this. It’s no time to be shy. “I think I’d like this size.” I motion vaguely toward some of the boxes to the right—not all the way to the right, but close.
“Okay.” She doesn’t bat an eye. “Have you thought about features?”