His Best Friend's Older Sister

by Laura Jardine

  “And what do you want me to wear?”

  “A skirt, like the one you wore on Tuesday. A cute blouse. Heels. After I buzz and you open the door downstairs for me, I want you to unlock the door to your unit and sit at your computer, typing. I won’t knock. I’ll come right in. I can be gentle if you like. Just tell me what you want.”

  “No. I’ve had lots of gentle, awkward sex. I want it to feel dirty this time. Like the reason you’re not taking my shirt off isn’t because of my skin, but because you need to get inside me as fast as possible.”

  Jesus. He grasped his cock through his shorts.

  “I can’t believe I said that to you,” she whispered.

  “Get used to it, darling. You better believe I like it. I won’t get a damn thing done tonight until I come. And this is hardly the first time I’ve thought about you while masturbating. How’s that for dirty?”

  “Oh.” She paused. “I do like that.”

  Emily was cute. And totally not the woman he should be doing this with. Which turned him on even more right now.

  “Now remember what it felt like,” he said, “to have your hand wrapped around my cock. You’re going to do that again tomorrow.”

  And he hung up.

  Chapter Five

  Emily’s heart beat rapidly in her chest.

  It wasn’t just nerves.

  It was also excitement.

  She’d already surprised herself with some of the things she’d said to Jay. Like when they were on the phone yesterday. She was different with him; she did things that she wouldn’t do with any other man. On Tuesday, she’d even been rather manipulative.

  If you don’t think you’re equal to the task, then I’ll leave.

  Never before had she wielded such sexual power. It was rather exhilarating.

  When she reminded herself of that, she felt more confident that she could handle today, though she couldn’t completely banish her anxiety.

  Emily sat at her corner desk, her legs crossed, her back straight. She hadn’t gotten changed after work, and she was wearing the same skirt as on Tuesday and a light pink blouse with cap sleeves. After dinner she’d fixed her makeup and hair, and when he’d called a minute ago, she’d put her heels back on.

  Now she was waiting for him to come up.

  She opened a Word document. She could think of nothing but him, so she typed “Jay Cheng,” over and over again. Like she was a schoolgirl, doodling her crush’s name in a notebook.

  After she’d typed it thirty-seven times, the door opened.

  He was wearing a gray suit with a purple shirt and striped tie. She nearly stopped breathing because he was so damn hot.

  Then she went back to typing his name, her hands shaking.

  “Hello, Miss Branson,” he said.

  “Just a moment.” She held up a finger, then typed his name a few more times. Forty-two. That was a good number.

  She swiveled her chair toward him. He walked toward her, his body lean and perfect.

  “What are you working on?” he asked.

  “Notes for your presentation tomorrow.”

  “Ah, yes.” He looked at the screen. “It would be terrible if I forgot my own name, wouldn’t it? A real tragedy.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

  Emily bit back a smile, feeling more at ease now.

  “How was your meeting?” she asked.

  “Very good.” He leaned back against the desk. “I convinced them to do what I want. As always.” He grinned.

  She felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant, though.

  “So, Miss Branson.” His voice was cool and calm, and it vibrated through her. “You’ve been here for a week. How are you liking it?”

  “I like it a lot. But I could hardly tell you otherwise, could I?”

  “You remember your duties, I hope. There are a few that go beyond the usual duties of a secretary. I’ve had a very long day, you see, and I need a little something to pick me up.” He raised an eyebrow.

  She loved how intently he looked at her.

  “I understand, Mr. Cheng. You hired me for my baking skills, too. I made some oatmeal-raisin cookies earlier. I’ll fetch you a cookie and a cup of coffee.”

  Oh, this was fun!

  He rested a hand on her arm to keep her from standing. The contact sizzled through her body, and she crossed her legs more tightly and squirmed.

  “You know what I mean,” he said, his voice low. “I told you explicitly what I would require, and that did not include baking.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.” It was a bit of a snarl. “Don’t act all innocent on me now, Miss Branson. At the interview, you knelt between my legs and sucked my cock.”

  Emily breathed in sharply. “I wish I’d been at this interview.”

  She was doing this. She could be sexual. It was partly the role-playing, but it was also Jay. She felt safe with him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a devilish smile. “Show me that I hired you for good reason, or I’ll find a replacement. You don’t want me to do that, do you?”

  “No, sir. I need this job very badly.”

  “Well, then.” He patted the desk. “Get up here.”

  She took a seat on the edge of the solid, expensive wooden desk. It was a treat she’d bought herself when she got her job. She’d certainly never imagined it being used like this.

  He stepped between her legs, put his hands on the back of her head, and brought it toward him. He kissed her mouth, slowly at first, but then his lips pressed more urgently against hers.

  “I hope you mean to do whatever it takes to keep me happy.” He shed his jacket and threw it on the sofa.

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  The next kiss was savage. His growing erection pressed between her legs as his tongue twined with hers. He thrust against her. Once. Twice.

  “You feel that?” he said. “I bet your pussy’s aching for it.”

  She may have blushed, just a little.

  “Don’t pretend to be prim and proper with me. I know what you are. You’re a dirty little girl. That’s why you wanted this job so badly. Because you knew it would involve fucking.”

  Her hands trembled as she unfastened his pants and drew his cock out through the slit in his boxers. He was very hard now, the skin of him satiny.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said.

  She wrapped her hand around him and slowly moved up and down. He hissed in a breath, and his mouth crashed down on hers again, demanding more. He bit her lower lip.

  This was no tender, romantic moment.

  It was just what she needed.

  He thrust his hand up her skirt. “You’re not wearing the required outfit.”

  “What do you mean? A skirt and a blouse, like you asked.”

  “I didn’t tell you to wear panties, and yet you did.” He pushed them aside and ran his finger along the outside of her—not where she needed him. “But I suppose we can make do.”

  “It seems rather inappropriate not to wear underwear to work.”

  “I didn’t ask you to be appropriate.”

  He slipped his finger inside her as she continued to touch his cock.

  “Now, Miss Branson,” he said. “I don’t like this feigned innocence act you’ve got going on. But since you’ve been an excellent secretary this week, I shall give you a little treat.”

  And then he was kneeling on the ground, pushing her skirt all the way up, pulling off her panties. His tongue traced a path along her slit before he licked her all over, like he was desperate to feast on her. She pushed her palms against the surface of the desk and arched her back. A moan escaped her lips.

  She covered her mouth, a little self-conscious. It wasn’t like her to make noises.

  “Miss Branson, is something wrong? You’ve suddenly gone tense.”

  “No,” she said hurriedly. “Nothing’s wrong. Please continue.”


  “No one else is in the office. It’s late. They’ve all gone home. You don’t need to worry about being quiet. In fact, I would prefer if you weren’t quiet.”

  His expression was serious, more composed than usual, yet there was still that hint of playfulness. It was still Jay.

  “Show me how unquiet you can be,” he said.

  His mouth was between her legs once more. He held her open with his hands, and she spread her legs even farther. When she looked down at him pleasuring her, a glorious pressure built within her and she felt sparks at her fingertips. And when his tongue circled her clit, she cried out as pleasure overtook her.

  He stood up. “Excellent job, Miss Branson.”

  “Thank you.” She breathed heavily. “You make it easy for me to do my job well.”

  “Do I, now?” The corner of his mouth curled up. “I hope you are not worn out. There are other things I want to do to you.”

  He rolled on a condom before leaning forward and kissing her again. She could taste herself on him.

  When he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, she tore her mouth away and moaned, then moaned even louder once he was seated completely within her. His eyes fluttered closed and he looked … overcome.

  He set a steady pace, and it felt perfect.

  He’s inside me.

  The thought, the feel of him … it was nearly enough to push her over the edge again.

  “It was torture,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear, “to see you walking around the office all week. The tight skirts, showing off your ass and legs. Your buttoned-up shirts, giving the illusion that you’re a professional woman. But you’re not.” He brushed his lips, ever so lightly, over her earlobe. “You’re letting your boss fuck you on your desk, and you don’t feel a bit of shame.”

  “I refuse to feel shame when I’m enjoying myself. And this is part of my job anyway.”

  His laughter was low. “You could have worked for someone else, but you chose me. You chose to work somewhere where sex was part of the job description.”

  His strokes were languid now, and his smile was lazy and utterly slaying.

  “You’re so very handsome,” she said. “Sleeping with you … I saw it as a perk.”

  He sped up, his thrusts deep and all-consuming. She was trembling, on the edge, painfully close, and he circled his thumb over her clit and she came. He growled and fucked her urgently, spearing into her again and again, until he pulled her tight against him and found his own release.

  It was such a rush, all of it. She crumpled against him. He stayed inside her for a few breaths before pulling out and heading to the washroom.

  Once he was gone, Emily collapsed in the chair. She felt soft, malleable, a bit like Play-Doh. The way she saw herself was changing, just from that one encounter.

  Jay returned a minute later, his pants buttoned, his tie loosened. “Did you like that, Miss Branson?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m glad, Emily. See? Sex with me is a life-changing experience.”

  She cuffed him on the shoulder. “Do you say that to all the women you pick up?”

  She instantly regretted bringing up other women. That wasn’t what she wanted to think about right now.

  “No, just the ones related to my best friend.” His smile faltered, but then he said, “I hope you didn’t enjoy it too much. Because I want there to be more for me to teach you.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Yes,” she said. “I think I still have lots to learn.”

  ****

  After Jay left, Emily spent several minutes lying on the couch in sated bliss.

  She wished he’d stayed longer. Usually after sex, she felt awkward and rushed to cover herself up, but today, she’d wanted to cozy up to him afterward.

  And then she looked at the clock and realized it was a very good thing he hadn’t stayed.

  Because she was supposed to go out in ten minutes.

  She hurried to the bedroom, where she changed into jeans and a navy T-shirt. She also put on a colorful scarf and a pair of hoop earrings.

  Liz had texted her earlier and asked if she wanted to go to a bar. Although Emily’s thoughts had been filled with her upcoming encounter with Jay, she’d dashed off a reply, saying she’d be free at nine thirty, even though she wouldn’t normally go out that late.

  Liz and her two roommates lived in a three-bedroom apartment down the hall. She and Emily had seen each other in the elevator a few times. One day, Emily had struck up a conversation about the weather, and Liz had asked if she wanted to come over, just like that. They’d hung out for a few hours, drinking wine and eating a bag of sour cream and onion chips, alternately asking each other about their lives and talking about silly, meaningless things. And they’d decided they definitely needed to do it again.

  Emily locked her door and went to Liz’s. She could hear music through the door—some kind of indie rock.

  “Hey!” Liz said, letting her in. “I’ll just be five minutes. Make yourself at home.” She scurried back to the bedroom.

  Emily sat down on the couch and looked around. The place was totally unlike her own.

  There were a couple of dirty plates on the coffee table—something Emily would never do. And water rings from not using coasters. Oh, the horror! A couple of blankets were tossed haphazardly over the couch. The walls were covered in random movie posters from every decade; Brad Pitt was next to Cary Grant.

  It felt homier than Emily’s place. It had more character.

  “I like the posters,” she said when Liz re-emerged, wearing a tank top, several long necklaces—as was her usual style—and a fedora.

  “They’re Janey’s,” Liz said. “She’s at her boyfriend’s tonight. Don’t know where Ashley is. Come on, let’s go. I know the perfect place.”

  Twenty minutes later, they stopped at a Thai restaurant in the Entertainment District.

  Emily hesitated. “I already ate dinner.”

  Liz waved this off. “We’ll sit at the bar. They have the best cocktails. Seriously, you have to try them. And the shrimp chips are amazing, too. Plus the red curry chicken comes in a hollowed-out coconut—it’s great.”

  Emily ordered a cocktail with vodka, ginger syrup, and lemongrass, among other things. Liz, in addition to getting a drink, ordered the red curry for her second dinner.

  Second dinner. Ha.

  Liz was one of those lucky people who could eat like a tank and still look willowy. Her dark hair was cut in a bob and streaked with purple. Emily imagined she’d look perfect as a flapper girl from the twenties.

  “Okay,” Liz said, when they both had their drinks in hand. “Spill.”

  Emily drew her eyebrows together. “Huh?”

  “Come on. It’s obvious something’s up!”

  How could Liz tell?

  “I’ll help you out.” Liz lifted up some of Emily’s hair. “Unlike usual, your hair isn’t perfectly straight. Looks like you just had sex.”

  “But I was sitting up, not lying in bed, and he didn’t play with…”

  Oops.

  Emily covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

  Liz grinned. “Is this a guy you met at the wedding?”

  “The best man. I saw him earlier today.” Emily smiled when she thought of Jay. She couldn’t help it.

  “I knew that dress would do it. He’s a good friend of your brother’s?”

  “Yeah. I knew him when we were kids, but I hadn’t seen him in a few years.”

  “And he grew up and got hot?”

  “He did.”

  “I’m very curious,” Liz said. “But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  The lights in the restaurant were dim and random music was playing. When they’d come in, it had been, “Mambo Number 5.” Now it was a slow French song. As though someone with eclectic taste had just put all their music on shuffle.

  Emily had a si
p of her drink, which was quite tasty, and swirled the liquid with her straw. For some reason, she wanted to tell her friend about her arrangement with Jay.

  “I don’t really like sex,” she began. “That’s why the idea of hooking up with someone doesn’t appeal to me.”

  Liz frowned. “You’re asexual?”

  She shook her head. “No, I just haven’t had good experiences in the past. But when I saw Jay again, I wanted him. The night of the wedding … well, it didn’t work out.” She didn’t add the details, didn’t say that she’d totally freaked out when he’d tried to remove her shirt. “But then I thought, maybe this guy could teach me how to enjoy sex. I suggested the idea on Tuesday.”

  Liz bent over and started laughing. “Let me get this straight. You, Emily Branson, straight-laced finance girl, actually went up to a guy and asked if he could teach you to like sex? Were you drunk?”

  “Completely sober.”

  “You certainly look like you enjoyed it this time.”

  “Yeah. For the first time ever.”

  “Hey.” Liz nodded at the bartender. “Could you get us some shots? Maybe vodka? My friend here, she just—”

  Emily elbowed her in the ribs.

  “Okay, okay. We’ll do those shots later.” She winked at the bartender. “Or maybe you and I could do one at the end of the night.”

  The bartender smiled back. Emily wasn’t sure if he was Thai, but he did look like he was from Southeast Asia. A short man, wearing a black T-shirt that did not conceal his bulging muscles.

  Emily could see the appeal.

  But he wasn’t Jay.

  “Well,” Liz said, once the bartender walked to the other end of the bar, “That’s awesome. Sometimes it just takes the right guy. Is it just sex?”

  “Yeah. Nothing more.”

  “This is so not what I would have expected of you. But if you’re having fun, then that’s awesome. Does your brother know?”

  “Oh, God, no.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Liz said. “There are some things that it’s just better for brothers not to know. Unfortunately, I grew up in a small town, and there was lots of gossip. My brother knew way too much about my life. Even beat up a guy on my behalf.”

  “Did he deserve it?”