by Eden Bradley
Wordlessly, she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue parted his lips, tasting. Exploring. Giving him back something he hadn’t felt for way too long.
Hope.
They didn’t move from that position for what felt like hours. His lips felt bruised by the time he finally dragged her sports bra over her head and bared her beautiful breasts. The light from her lava lamp played over her skin, showcasing the dark nipples that beckoned his mouth. He kissed each one in turn, drawing deeply, not stopping until her soft sighs led him to bury his hands in his hair and lift her back onto the heaping pile of pillows. They filled almost half of the bed and cradled her as she extended her arms to him. He stretched out on top of her and tucked his nose against her throat, just breathing in her sultry jasmine scent while she stroked his back and tangled their legs.
Shit, the room was too warm. He quickly shucked his clothes, though all that did was remind him exactly how small the bed was. Still, it was hard to complain when she flashed him a bewitching smile and settled back with her sexy red hair draped over the pillows.
This was finally going to happen.
She shifted against him, lining his still eager cock up with her pussy. He yanked at her leggings, needing that barrier gone. As soon as she was naked, he inched down the bed and threw her legs over his shoulders, wasting no time in opening her for his mouth.
Slowly, he trailed his tongue over her hot, wet slit, sinking into her over and over. Journeying from her plump clit over her trembling entrance all the way down to the pucker between her cheeks. She was like an erotic version of that kids’ doctor game—each destination earned him a new sound. A helpless cry, a long sigh, an urgent moan. They left no doubt as to what she liked.
Normally he tried to be a little more precise when he was going down on a woman, but the scent of her desire combined with the tightening of her thighs around his head destroyed his finesse. He wanted her taste inside him by any means possible. She arched, shamelessly grinding against his face until she finally gave in to him on a rippling wave that left her sensitive tissues quaking around his tongue.
He slid back up her body to kiss her, wanting her to know how much he loved pleasing her that way. She whimpered, spanning his stubbled jaw with her fingers to hold him still as she licked his tongue clean.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” Groaning, he cupped her still twitching sex. He pushed two fingers inside her and absorbed the clenching spasms that instantly overtook her again. “I want in you. Bare.”
Wendy’s drowsy eyes locked on his. Her nod told him she understood he wasn’t demanding anything. It would be her choice. “It’s okay.” As if in silent acquiescence, more of her arousal dampened his palm. “I’m still on the pill.”
He didn’t wait. Couldn’t. He’d spent so long telling himself this couldn’t ever happen. That he wouldn’t risk their work relationship—or her.
Now she was beneath him, her nails scraping up his back as he circled her with the tip of his cock. Goddamn, he’d known she would use her nails.
She braced her heels on the bed and rose up, engulfing his length in one slow roll. She moaned at the sensation of him bottoming out inside her before he drew back and forged forward again. He set a punishing rhythm, determined to pay his way in orgasms. It was a shitty penance for taking her like this, but he’d known he would only be able to resist her for so long.
They weren’t the typical boss and secretary, and they’d fucking make their own rules. They’d make this work.
She cupped her breasts, thumbing her stiff nipples. The gesture almost seemed unconscious until she coasted her hand down her torso to encircle him where he pumped into her pussy. She gripped him at the base, squeezing him while her wicked eyes danced in the shifting light from her desk lamp. Purple streaks highlighted her hair and added shadows that made her lips look even more full.
Oh, fuck, those lips.
He surged into her until he couldn’t go any farther, brushing her clit with every pass. Crushing her fingers between their bodies, adding an extra layer of friction.
The wilder he stroked into her, the more fiercely the nails on her other hand scored his back. She reached down to grab his ass, hauling him into her so roughly that he couldn’t hold back his shout. The bed frame rammed against the wall, likely gouging out the paint, and still he swiveled into her, finding angles that nudged her to new heights. He grasped her breast, massaging it while she sucked him balls deep. She was so tight and slick, and she met his thrusts beat for beat. That she was as close as he was to the edge turned him on almost as much as the unrelenting grip of her pussy.
Des gazed into her hazy eyes. In them he saw so much more than passion. She was open to him, all the way. Body, soul and heart.
She bowed up, sobbing through her pleasure. Her shudders reverberated through his body, becoming his own. She pumped more wetness over him, prodding him to enter her faster. Harder. Pounding into her so that his sac slapped against her ass. The sounds of their lovemaking offset her cries and stole his focus from her manic thrashing. She didn’t restrain anything. What she needed from him, she took.
Tonight they both took. And gave.
He pulled back, stopping just barely inside her. “Look at me,” he whispered, hating that she’d finally closed her eyes. Her lashes rose and her lips fell apart as he drove into her one last time. “Baby, I’ve never…this has never…Wendy.”
Buried within her, the tingling in his spine exploded in a rush that damn near splintered his balls. He came hard, holding back nothing. Now she owned this part of him as she owned all the rest.
Gasping, he collapsed on top of her, his mouth at her breast. The flavor of her skin grounded him. And he drowned in it, just as he’d drowned himself in her.
He almost didn’t notice as she eased away from him and shimmied down the sheets. Her mouth gloved his spent cock and tore a grunt from him, but she didn’t relent. She swirled up and down his length, using all the carnal knowledge she’d gained from him the last couple of weeks. Holy shit, he was actually getting erect again.
She was a miracle worker. A goddamn dirty angel. His.
When she clasped her fingers around his sac, tugging gently, he hissed a curse and fisted her satin pillows. When she deep throated him so damn hard that his ass clenched to stave off his orgasm, he grabbed one of her ponytails and dragged her off.
She smiled up at him, rubbing her breasts so blatantly that his dick gave a pulse in defeat. He grabbed the base, twisting. It didn’t help. She pinched her nipples and flexed her hips, letting him see exactly how excited getting him off made her.
“Roll over.” He snatched her ponytails, yanking them while he positioned himself behind her. He trailed his cock over the crack of her ass, making her moan, before sliding down and powering into her drenched slit.
“Fuck yes. Give me that pussy.” He crushed her to the mattress, still stunned he could even do this again so soon. It was a banner frigging night. Seeing that round ass bobbing in front of him, feeling that brush of fingers that let him knowing she was touching herself again, urging them both to that point there was no coming back from—God, he couldn’t take it.
His body went on auto pilot and his hearing dimmed, tuned only to Wendy’s keening moans and her moisture bathing his cock. She rocked back to meet him and he gentled his hold on her hair, releasing one of her ponytails to rain a light series of smacks on her ass. Testing to see if she really enjoyed that sort of play or had just tolerated it to please him and Cole.
She cried out and shuddered through a brutal climax, contracting around him so violently that he used her hair to pull her up again to make sure she hadn’t passed out. She mumbled unintelligible words, her hips still racing under his, her nails digging into the sheets.
“Oh baby. You’re incredible.” He plowed into her until the sexy line of her spine and the curve of her ass blurred. Until his life’s purpose distilled to emptying himself in her. Giving her all of him, even
when he’d been sure there was nothing left. There was always more, with her.
Des shouted as his release jetted deep into her body. There was so much a little trickled out around him, which didn’t exactly help in bringing him back down from his high. By the time he finished pounding into her, even his damn balls were sore.
He collapsed atop her, knowing he shouldn’t. He should move.
Yeah, he should do that. Someday.
“Des?”
Now he was hearing voices. At least they knew his name. “Mmm?”
“Why wouldn’t you make love to me before? With Cole?” She rushed ahead. “I thought…God, I thought so many things. But I want to hear the truth from you.”
Somehow he summoned the strength to roll over and draw her into his arms. She belonged there. If he hadn’t known that before tonight, he was damn certain of it now.
“That guy Johnny who raised me? He was my mom’s best friend. After she died, I ended up with him and his wife. They divorced when I was in college and he died a couple of years back.”
She stroked his chest. “I’m so sorry. What about your dad?”
“He wasn’t really in my life. He had another family, and they took his focus.”
This time she didn’t say anything.
“They met at work. She was his receptionist, and he used his advantage to get exactly what he demanded from her. I was the unwanted consequence.” The words pressed on his chest, imprinted there like a tattoo he’d never wanted. “She never got over their relationship. Over losing him. Then I lost her too soon too.”
She was quiet for so long that he craned his neck to take a good look at her. She was staring at him, eyes wide and wet. “You could’ve told me, Des.”
Shaking his head, he let out an abbreviated laugh. “How?”
“Just like this.”
“Yeah, after I’ve been inside you.” He gazed at the ceiling. “I tried, Wen. I really did. It was stupid, thinking that with all we’d done I could still pretend I wasn’t like him. I did everything I could to make it clear to you it had nothing to do with your job, and I never took advantage all the way—” He pinched his nose, unsurprised it didn’t relieve the pressure gathering in his head. “It was all just a bullshit game. All these weeks of denial… I lied to myself. Worse, I lied to you.”
“You did? I must’ve missed it.” She crossed her arms over his chest and leaned forward so that her hair trailed over his skin.
He couldn’t stop the shudder. God, he had so many plans for that hair and her mouth before the night was through.
If she didn’t tell him to go to hell.
“You didn’t lie, Des, you just didn’t tell me everything. And that’s okay, because I didn’t tell you everything either.” She pulled back, retreating even further when he pinned her with his stare. “Maybe we should hit pause right here.”
His stomach knotted. When she was nervous or upset, the southern in her voice grew more pronounced. Usually he couldn’t get enough of it. At the moment, the rich, silky tones only increased his need to command her to tell him every secret she had.
He was no expert, but he figured that meant he was in love with her. Or possibly a burgeoning psycho.
Inhaling deeply, he turned her face toward his. Whatever it was, he’d face it with her. He’d be damned if he gave her up now. “Tell me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking him out. “I’m in love with you.”
~ * ~
At least he didn’t laugh. She supposed she couldn’t complain at his lack of response or how he went as still as a corpse. He was still her boss, after all. They had their working relationship to think about, and despite his revelations, he might not be ready to take things public. Or maybe he just didn’t care for her that way.
She could handle it. She’d handled much worse.
“I don’t expect you to love me back.” Wendy reached for his hand. His skin was hot to the touch. “I just needed you to know. Every time I was with you and Cole, I wanted it to be just us. You and me, like it was tonight.” She glanced around her woefully tiny bedroom and sighed. “Though I wish we’d been at your place. This bed is one Des-powered thrust away from collapse.”
He laughed, and her tension seeped away. Well, most of it. “I like your house.” He kissed her collarbone with little serpentine flicks of his tongue. “We still have a tree to put up, you know, and Chinese to eat. I also might’ve gotten you a gift.”
“I don’t have anything for you,” she protested.
Grinning, he caressed her still sensitive pussy. “Oh yes, you do. Santa says thank you.”
She forced herself to grin. To be lighthearted, jolly and sexy. “I have a feeling Santa will be even more pleased with me by the end of the night.”
When he rolled away from her and reached for his clothes, she made her peace with her revelation. Whatever happened after tonight, she would be fine. She felt lighter and heavier, all at once. If she hated him just a little for his honor in not even bothering to pretend to love her, she’d get over it eventually.
Getting over stuff was one of her new skills. Along with her speedy typing and her skillful cock sucking, she was on her way to becoming a damn dynamo.
They decorated her tree and scarfed down the Chinese while they watched an all-night Christmas movie fest. He caught her eyeing his gift and plopped it in her lap, making her open it despite her complaints.
“You shouldn’t have done this.” She pulled on the ribbon and gave into her urge to shake the box. It barely rattled. “How about I buy you lunch next week—” She thumbed up the lid, biting her lip. “Oh.”
“I know you said you didn’t like music boxes, but I wanted to try to change your mind. Or at least maybe improve your opinion.” He popped the lid of the carved crystal box, unveiling a small skater on a pond who did figure eights in front of a charmingly decorated house to “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”
God, she was getting misty again. What the heck was going on with her hormones?
She blinked rapidly and smiled. “It doesn’t sound tinny.”
“No. Took some doing to find one that didn’t in a shop that was still open on Christmas Eve. I got lucky.” He touched her cheek and made her look at him. “You don’t like it.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it—I love it.” She grinned and kissed his scruffy jaw. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled or the lateness of the hour, but an explanation tumbled forth before she thought to stop it. “My dad used to buy them for me. He gave me one every Christmas.”
“I didn’t see them in your room.”
She glanced down at the skater, still moving in methodical circles. “They’re in boxes, packed away. I haven’t been able to stand looking at them for so long.”
“If this is too painful for you—”
“No. No,” she repeated, rising. “In fact, I want to show you one of the others he gave me. I think you’d like it.”
He accepted the hand she extended and stood beside her. “Show me.”
They ended up looking at all ten of her music boxes. He didn’t seem bored by the accompanying stories and even helped her dust each one off and clear a bookshelf to display them. It was awfully crowded, but at least they weren’t in boxes anymore.
No matter what happened between them, she had him to thank for that.
Just before three, they crawled into her bed and took their sweet time tearing up the sheets she’d neatly remade. With her body warm from his, she dropped deeply into sleep, smiling at the weight of his arm on her belly.
The sound of knocking jerked Wendy up on her elbows. Another knock, louder this time. Blearily, she swung her head around to search for the source.
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Someone was out in the hall.
She snatched the sheet and held it over her bare breasts as she shot a glance at Des, who was happily sawing them off.
“Hang on,” she called ou
t, scrambling up so fast that she caught her foot in the comforter on her way to the cold hardwood floor. “One more minute.”
Too late. The door was already opening.
Just as she glimpsed her mom and aunt’s shocked expressions, she realized that her graceless tumble off the bed had bared her lover’s impressive morning wood for all to see.
“Merry Christmas,” she muttered.
~ * ~
EIGHT
To her mom’s credit, she didn’t freak out at finding a strange man in her supposedly single daughter’s bed. Aunt Gert was a harder sell, wailing about violating the sanctity of marriage and such, but her mom got her settled down and out of the house before she shattered any windows with her screeching protests.
Then it was just Mrs. Stanton, Wendy, and Des—who’d yet to stop grinning despite being ogled by two senior citizens before breakfast.
And his secretary. His secretary had definitely done her share of ogling too.
Since her mom was feeling good, she made them a breakfast of whole wheat waffles and turkey sausage. Discovering Des was a vegan made her mom’s eyes glint. The one thing she’d disliked about Wendy’s dad was his refusal to give up hunting. Des’s love of animals definitely erased any lingering effects from finding him naked in Wendy’s bed, though once she’d learned who he was she hadn’t been too upset. She knew how Wendy felt about him.
Hell, from the way she was glowing that morning, the mailman could’ve figured it out.
“Wendy never stops talking about you,” Mrs. Stanton said, ignoring Wendy’s plaintive groan. “You’re every bit as handsome as she said.”
Des continued sipping his coffee. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by that morning’s events. “Your daughter’s too kind.”
“Not too kind. Wendy’s just grateful as all get out for everything you’ve done for us. She’s downright effusive about you. You’ve changed our lives for the better, son. Sweet Mary, you even brought us a beautiful little tree.” She shocked the hell out of Wendy by getting up to kiss Des flush on the mouth. “Thank you so much.”