by Alison Kent
This last week, though, he had to admit that she had loosened up a bit. Full credit in his court, of course. He still hadn’t quite figured out where her uppity attitude came from, and doubted he would in their limited time together. Her interests weren’t like those of most females he’d known; she even thought about things more like a guy than a girl.
The fact that sex was a big part of that equation made him a very happy and satisfied man. So much so that he found himself wondering once or twice what it would be like to stick with her for the long haul. A totally stupid thing to think, because it wasn’t going to happen.
Homer Simpson’s announcement of, “The mail is here! The mail is here!” brought Jacob back to the present. He glanced up and blinked to clear the clouds from his vision as his in-box filters magically screened out the junk and the spam. All that was left were the notes needing his attention.
Oh, yeah. He’d sent himself the same links to the Webcam feeds he’d sent to Melanie. He wondered if she’d ripped the camera off her bookshelf yet or if she was going to be a sport and go along with the fun they could have watching each other. He clicked on the link to her feed, returning to his in-box while waiting for the page to load.
Yes, cool! A response from one of the New York companies he’d queried. But just as he opened the e-mail and before he saw more of the content than the word interest, a knock on his door brought an immediate invasion of his office.
Asa Brennan and Harry Schott. Jacob closed the e-mail and leaned back in his chair as the two thugs barged in. “You know, most people wait for an invitation after they knock before waltzing in.”
Asa glanced at Harry. Harry glanced back. Both men dropped into Jacob’s visitors’ chairs, ignoring him completely. “I dunno, Harry,” Asa began, crossing an ankle over a knee and lacing his hands behind his head as he leaned back. “Looks like Faulkner.” Nose up, he sniffed the air. “Smells like Faulkner.” Mouth in a grim line, Asa shook his head. “But sounds like some prissy-assed puss who’s been hanging around a bunch of women.”
“Very funny,” Jacob said with a snort, though he was having a hell of a time keeping a straight face.
Asa wasn’t through, giving a girlie singsong lilt to his voice as he repeated mockingly, “‘Most people wait for an invitation after they knock before waltzing in.’ Waltzing. Shit.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Faulkner. If that’s who you really are. Who’d you sleep with to get that gIRL-gEAR gig, anyway?” His dark slash of a brow went up on the left side. “Or who’ve you been sleeping with since getting it?”
Jacob only shook his head. “You guys can’t stand it, can you? You know management only gives the sweet assignments to the best of the best.”
“More like to whoever happens to be in the right place at the right time,” Harry said, slumping back onto his tailbone. “You lucked out and you know it.”
“What can I say?” Jacob shrugged. “Some guys have it all. And some?” He offered up both empty palms. “Some of you schmucks got nothing.”
“You wish you had my nothing,” Asa said, a grin of cosmically cocky proportions widening the mouth that his last girlfriend had called her own private rock ’n roll show. “My nothing just got me invited to Milwaukee to accept an award for that short I shot last year.”
“Hey, man. That’s excellent.” Jacob leaned forward, extending his hand across the expanse of his desk to shake Asa’s. “The one about the dart tournament, right?”
Asa nodded as Jacob sat back, and that was when the trouble began. He caught site of the browser window he’d left open on his screen—the URL where he’d set up his system to show the feed from Melanie’s office Webcam.
Holy crap! He sure as hell hoped she’d locked her office door. She’d obviously moved the camera because the shot wasn’t angled down as far as it had been originally. It was more…straight on.
And straight ahead in the center of the frame, Melanie stood wearing a classic black business suit with a hip-length jacket and a skirt that fell beneath her knees. She’d leaned back against her desk, her palms on the surface at her hips, one ankle crossed over the other there where he could not look away from her feet.
No doubt about it. He was gonna need paddles to jump start his heart. Because in addition to the suit, she wore a Mardi Gras-type mask, with long ribbons of pink, red and white and plumed feathers to match. She also wore the sexiest pair of shoes he’d ever seen. Yep. Even better than the ones she’d been wearing that day in the church, because these heels were stiletto and bright cherry-red.
But that was only the first stretch in the torturous route up her body, because her legs—at least what he could see of them between her ankle and the middle of her calves—her legs were wrapped in matching fishnet stockings.
Jacob groaned, deciding he was going to die.
“You okay, man?” Asa asked, reminding Jacob that he wasn’t alone in the room.
And then he groaned because he wasn’t alone in the room. “Yeah. I was just thinking that I’m going to have to cover your ass while you’re gone. And that is seriously going to cut into my downtime.”
Harry laughed. “Dude, your entire life is downtime. What’re you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you had damn well better keep your cell charged because I refuse to take up all this man’s slack on my own,” Jacob said, jerking a thumb in Asa’s direction.
Harry frowned, turned to discuss scheduling with Asa, giving Jacob the distraction he needed. His Powerbook sat open in the center of his desk, meaning he had to look over the screen to make eye contact with either of his buds.
It also meant he could pretty much continue to check out Melanie without rousing either man’s suspicions. But one look back at the screen and he knew checking her out would be better done in private.
Ha! As if he could look away now that she’d turned her back to the camera and stood bent over her desk ninety degrees, balancing first on one foot then the other as if doing a slow-motion dance.
She had the most fantastic ass. And those heels and what they did to the whole picture…well, now his cock was talking to him, reminding him exactly how it felt to slide between her sweet cheeks. He was about to be in a hard-on of trouble here.
And as much as he was enjoying the view, he said a silent thank-you when Melanie finally stopped shakin’ her booty and stood up straight. Except then she turned back around and went to work on the long row of buttons fastening the front of her black blazer.
He just barely managed to bite down on his next groan, and glanced briefly at the other two photographers to make sure they hadn’t overheard the sound of grinding teeth. But Asa and Harry were busy coordinating schedules on the PDAs both had pulled from cases at their waist.
So Jacob looked back at his screen. One by one, Melanie flicked the suckers open, a whole lot slower than Jacob would’ve liked, except he was liking just fine the sight coming slowly into view.
She was wearing a red bustier, for crissakes. The boning hugged her body and pushed up her breasts into temptingly plump mouthfuls. He wanted to slurp her up and suck her hard.
He swallowed, but his mouth was dry, so he reached for the bottle of water on his desk. He drank and nodded at whatever Harry had just said. Something about splitting time over Asa’s assignments. For all Jacob knew, he’d just agreed to cover the other man one-hundred percent.
Right now, he didn’t give a damn about anything but watching Melanie strip. She shrugged out of the blazer and stood there in the stilettos, the fishnets and the bustier. All of it red and all of it about to make him dig his cock out of his pants.
“Look, guys,” Harry said. “I’ve gotta run. I’m doing a first birthday party in River Oaks at noon.” He returned his PDA to his case as he stood.
“Parents doping the kids with sugar before naptime?” Asa asked.
“Something like that.” Turning to Jacob, Harry got to his feet just as the cellphone at his waist rang. “We’ll
catch up on scheduling early next week, right?”
Jacob nodded, but Harry was on his way out the door, leaving Asa to drill Jacob with a piercing gaze.
“What’s up with you, man? For someone working such a choice gig, you look like shit.”
Jacob shrugged, his peripheral vision trying to draw his full gaze back to the computer screen. “Women. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t walk out on the job when the exposure’s going to take me where I want to go.”
“Hey, man. I’m there. Between you and me, I’m looking for a lead in Milwaukee to pan out.”
“You’re still thinking of going back home?”
Asa nodded. “I’ve been wanting to head that way for a while.”
And then, in a case of mounting interruptions, Jacob’s desk phone rang. He glanced at the caller display. “I’d better get this.”
“Yeah, I’m outta here, anyway.” Asa slapped palms to thighs and pushed himself to his feet. “Ball game tonight, right?”
“Yep. I’ll be there,” Jacob rashly promised, reaching for the receiver as the other man waved goodbye on his way out the door.
“Faulkner,” he said for his co-worker’s benefit, before hitting the mute button and cutting off the telemarketing recording so he could get back to watching the show that had become the very center of his world.
Melanie still wore her skirt, but now stood with her legs spread as far apart as the slim black garment would allow. Her hands were at her waist and were moving up the corset-tight bustier. She took her time, as if enjoying the feel of her own hands sliding up her ribs to the swell of her breasts.
She tossed back her head, then looked straight into the camera, wetting first one index finger then the other with her mouth. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she ran both fingertips down the slope of her breasts and beneath the red satin, lifting both of her nipples free and circling slippery fingers around the tight pink buds until they practically sat up and begged.
Jacob slammed the receiver back into the cradle, got up and closed his office door. He leaned back against it and reached into his pants, compressing the base of his cock with the ring he made of his fingers until the urge to come backed off. Eyes closed, he took several slow, concentrated breaths.
And then he returned to his desk and the live action striptease that was so much better than the shadow one on tape. With her stance still wide, her chin up and shoulders back, her nipples puckered there above the lacy edge of the bustier, she moved her hands to her back and the fastenings of her skirt.
Jacob sank down into his chair just in time for the rest of the show.
Palms flat on her upper thighs, she swiveled her hips side to side while sliding the black skirt down her legs. She bent forward in the process, completely exposing her cherry-tipped breasts.
He was pulsing again, ready to blow, and if Melanie’s act went much further, he was going to be finished. Her skirt was now around her ankles, or it was until she stepped out of it and moved closer to the camera.
She slipped her fingers beneath the red garters holding up the stockings, popped both against her thighs before moving her hands into a V around her mound, which was covered in nothing but a thong of red netting.
No woman in his life had ever aroused him this fast or this completely. She stood there covered from the lower swells of her breasts to the barest patch of her tummy visible between her garter belt and her thong.
But the things he most wanted to see were the very things she was showing him. She was a cherry. A head-to-toe sweet piece that he wanted to consume.
She teased him then, her hands returning to pluck at both nipples, her tongue circling her parted lips as she did. And then she hooked one ankle around the leg of a visitor’s chair and dragged it into the frame.
She didn’t sit immediately, but turned and took hold of the chair’s arms, giving him yet another beautiful shot of her bare ass. And then she crawled up into the seat on her knees, her legs open as she simulated the up-and-down ride she’d taken on his lap that first time.
He leaned back in his chair and ran the flat of his hand down the length of his shaft behind his fly. Their offices were only six miles apart, but it would take him a good twenty minutes to get there, and she could very well be dressed and off to a meeting before he even made it halfway.
Then again, in his condition, driving was not necessarily recommended. But then driving wasn’t even a factor, because he wasn’t moving out of his seat.
Melanie had turned around in the chair, sitting forward on the seat and draping her knees over the arms. He could see everything there between her spread legs, except it was still covered by scraps of red netting and silk and lace.
He would have growled if he could’ve shoved the sound past his heart, which was beating in every square inch of his chest, but he could barely even breathe.
The fingers that had played with her nipples now dipped beneath the scrap of material covering her mound, and then she pulled the thong away.
When once again she wet her fingers, Jacob grunted and flexed his abs. A crowbar, a jackhammer, the jaws of life. Nothing was going to separate him from his chair or his Powerbook screen. He couldn’t even move to activate the camera’s zoom.
Besides, he wanted to see all of her—not just the action going on there between her legs. Even if it was the sleekest, steamiest, most realistic and raw self-gratification he’d ever witnessed.
She separated the folds of her sex and slid two fingers inside. Not one, but two, while her other hand played back and forth between her nipples and her clit.
He took it all in—her head thrown back, the pinching and tweaking, the roughed-up nipples, the flushed pink clit. He brought his fist down on his desk; goddamn, but he wanted to be the one there getting her off, fingering her to the slick rhythm she’d set.
In and out her fingers went, and she was peachy and juicy and he wanted to eat her up, to lick her clean, to bend her over and bury his face in her incredible sex.
And then she came. Came all over the place. Her hips arched up off the chair, and he could’ve sworn she buried three fingers to the hilt.
Her head went back and she stuffed her fist to her mouth to cut off the cry that rang in his ears and rocked him from his throat to the hard rise of flesh between his legs.
His balls ached and he felt pre-come spill from the tip of his cock. But he stayed where he was, waiting and watching Melanie’s finish. Watching her collapse exhausted. Watching her breathe deeply and grin. Watching her take up a pair of insulated wire cutters and…snip.
The screen went blank.
He sat there, unmoving, unblinking, unable to fathom anything but what she’d just done. And she’d done it for him. Solely for him. Never in his life had any woman given him so much of herself. And he wondered when the time came how hard it would be to walk away.
Right now, the hardest thing he knew was in his pants and needed to be taken care of. He grabbed up his satchel and, holding it strategically, headed for the men’s room down the hall.
One thing had just been made exceedingly clear. Melanie’s power trip attitude was all about knowing what she wanted, and making sure she got her way.
Once he figured out how to get her back for this, he’d make sure he got his.
9
MELANIE BARELY MANAGED to get back into her suit, dispose of the fishnets, change her shoes and dump the camera and wiring detritus before she heard chatter and laughter in the hallway outside her office door.
She unlocked and opened it, then settled in behind her desk with the work she’d used as an excuse this morning to beg off from accompanying the others to career day at the high school where Rennie Faulkner counseled.
For the past three hours the executive office wing had been a virtual ghost town, silent and still. But now the girls were back, putting an end to Melanie’s privacy. It seemed she’d timed her show perfectly.
She shoved her gym bag farther into the kneehole beneath her desk,
hearing the clatter of cosmetics rattling in her mini train case as the contents shifted. Oh, shoot! Her hair and makeup had to be a mess!
Pulling her glasses off, she grabbed the mirror and the hairbrush she kept in her desk drawer and quickly repaired her chunky textured cut. Her compact was next. Nose and T-zone dusted, she smoothed her smoky-taupe eye shadow until only a bare hint remained, blotted the red gloss from her lips and reapplied her usual nude frost.
She had no idea if Jacob had actually been in his office to see her production live, or if he would watch the captured stream later. All she knew was that the feed was encrypted and her show would remain private.
She would never have given him that particular performance if she’d thought for a moment she couldn’t trust him with the goods. Still, the safety net of the Mardi Gras-style half mask made her feel a bit better. Now all she had to do was sweat out the wait for his reaction.
As she took a deep breath, it hit her. She was absolutely exhausted. Of course, good sex with a good man did that to a woman. And nobody ever said the man had to be in the same room at the same time.
But being able to breathe again was also a huge relief. How any woman had ever survived the era of confining corsets Melanie had no idea. She wasn’t even certain the bustier hadn’t left her with at least one broken rib!
She’d just returned her glasses to her face and her hairbrush and mirror to her desk drawer when there was a knock at her door. She looked up to find Rennie Faulkner waiting for an invitation to come in.
“Come in.” Her smile welcoming, Melanie motioned the other woman forward. “We are absolutely informal around here. Don’t feel you ever have to knock. Chloe certainly doesn’t.”
Rennie walked in and took a seat in one of the black leather visitors’ chairs. A teasing light glinted in eyes that were a light amber shade, a contrast to Jacob’s, which were the color of rich coffee. “Well, if we all based our behavior on Chloe’s…”