He just wasn’t sure what kind of spice he wanted anymore.
* * * * *
Going home to shower and change would have meant a drive in the opposite direction. Since she’d put on fresh running clothes this morning, Jessica decided to forget it. Besides, it was Saturday, and West Coast would be empty.
When she arrived, though the front parking lot was empty, the alarm had been turned off. She cocked her head, but didn’t hear anything. Maybe the cleaners had forgotten to arm it. That was a big no-no.
She climbed the stairs, turned the corner to her office, and smacked right into a big, hard male body.
Her blood began to hum. Clay. He smelled like fresh workout sweat, not bad, but sexy, and very male. Jessica swallowed. Her fantasies. Vince. God, she hadn’t even showered. She could still smell his come on her, and his taste lingered on her tongue.
Then she looked up, up, up, meeting Clay’s stare. He held a coffee cup aloft. Presumably he’d almost spilled it when she ran into him. Steam and a rich aroma rose from it. His eyes were darker than their usual hazel, and his nostrils flared as if he was sniffing her.
“What are you doing here, Jessica?” His voice was deep, edgy, like she’d committed a crime.
He hadn’t backed off much from the initial bump into her, and his proximity made her head feel muzzy. She searched for an adequate answer. “Those questions you had. I wanted to check on them.”
“That can wait till Monday,” he said in a low growl that didn’t match his words.
“I wasn’t doing anything else today.” Except screwing Vince. It suddenly became hard to swallow, difficult even to think. He smelled so good. Her skin was flushed from sex, her body wet. And ready.
“You should have better things to do on a Saturday.”
She resisted the urge to lick her lips. There was something different in his gaze, not his usual impersonal expression. “Nothing better,” she said, feeling like she was saying something else, that he was, too.
Then suddenly he stepped aside. “I’ll let you get to it. There’s fresh coffee.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She had her office key out, but didn’t move. He skirted round her and headed to his office.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she let out a long breath. The way he’d looked at her...as if he could eat her. As if he was suddenly, inexplicably feeling all the things for her that she’d felt about him for years. Her hands were shaking; she needed coffee. Back in her office, she set the mug on the desk, but after only a few moments, her feet moved, heading out again. She couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop herself. She was an idiot.
He stood on the other side of his conference table, back to the window overlooking the parking lot. With not a flicker of movement about him, he stared at his desk as if he could see Ruby on it. Jessica tried not to think about that. If she did, she’d remember what she’d made Vince do to her this morning. “About the CIP...” She trailed off. “Where’s your car? I didn’t see it out there.”
“I parked out back,” he said without glancing in her direction.
She’d been parked out back the other night. Perhaps that’s why Ruby hadn’t known she was there either.
“You should leave,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”
His words were so blunt, they stung. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll get to work on this stuff.”
Finally, he turned to her. “No. I mean you should go home and finish it on Monday.”
“But...”
He rounded the conference table. “You work too much. All this overtime isn’t necessary. Here so late on Wednesday, now today.”
He was referring to Ruby. If she hadn’t been working late, she’d never have seen Ruby, then she wouldn’t have told him, and he’d have had no need to exchange intimacies about his private life.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” He was within a few steps now.
“I’m—” She stopped because another apology was about to come out. “This is about Ruby, isn’t it?”
He said nothing.
“I know it wasn’t my business,” she started to explain.
“It’s not about Ruby. It’s about you.”
She stopped, swallowed. “What?”
He was between her and the door now, so close she could feel the heat of his body scorching hers.
“This is about you,” he said again, then dropped his voice to a mere whisper. “And what you were doing this morning before you got here.”
She’d been having sex. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
His features were harsh and unyielding. “You either need to get the fuck out of here right now”—yet his tone was low and seductive—“or tell me what you were doing.”
She thought of the things he liked. Another man’s scent on his woman. Another man’s taste on her lips.
He’d told her to go; she still had a chance. She could pretend she hadn’t been doing anything this morning, lie and say she’d gone for her run. She could even pretend she didn’t know what he was asking for. Or she could simply walk out.
She did none of those things. She gave him the truth. “I was fucking.” Something blazed in his eyes. She told him the rest. “And I imagined he was you.”
* * * * *
She was the fire in his belly. Fuck, he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care. He wanted to hear every dirty detail of what she’d done while thinking of him.
“Who is he?”
She didn’t smile, didn’t pretend coy. She was without all Ruby’s wiles. “My fuck buddy,” she said.
His cock surged in jeans. “How often do you see him?”
Her eyes were a crystalline blue, her gaze never wavering. “Whenever I’ve been thinking about sex with you and need some relief.”
It wasn’t ego. It wasn’t merely sex either. It was that she made the sex about him, about them, with nothing more than words. And it was the surge of emotion—maybe jealousy, he couldn’t be sure—that she had a fuck buddy, a man she turned to just for sex, a man she used to get him out of her system. It made everything all that much hotter. “What did he do to you?”
“I made him take me into his office and bend me over the desk.”
His head whirled with the images her story evoked. And with her scent. The moment he’d bumped into her in the hallway, her sexual perfume began to fog his mind. He smelled the sex on her, not just her musk, but the man’s as well, the salty odor of come on her lips, rising off her body.
He’d tried to tell her to go. He knew he was in danger of losing it. Ruby with Bradley the asswipe, Jessica’s scent, the way she’d become completely sexualized in his mind yesterday afternoon when she’d told him what Ruby had done on his desk. He’d been close to losing control out there in the hall. She should never have followed him to his office. He wasn’t sure he’d let her go even if she tried to leave.
“Tell me,” he begged. It wasn’t like this with Ruby. It was visceral, uncontrollable.
Then Jessica gave him what he craved. “He pulled my pants down and put his hand between my legs.” Her breath came faster, her breasts rising and falling beneath the tight jogging T-shirt. “I was already wet because I’d been dreaming about you all night.”
The moisture the man touched belonged to him. It was for him.
“Then he went down on his knees and licked my pussy.”
Jesus, he could almost taste it, smell it, and he wanted, needed. He told himself he wouldn’t touch her, that he only wanted the story, while another part of his mind laughed at his naïveté. You’re such a fucking liar. “How did it feel?”
She closed her eyes, tipped her head back. “God, it was so good.”
The office door was open. Anyone could drop by to catch up on a little work. And he was about to break his own rules. No sex in the office, no sex with coworker, especially not someone who worked for him. It was wrong. It was stupid. But he didn’t give a damn.
“
Then I begged him to fuck me,” she went on, capturing him completely. “He lets me pretend that he’s you. I call him Mr. Blackwell and he calls me Miss Murphy, like in the old black and white movies. It’s sexy.”
She made it fucking sexy for him, too. Could she possibly know what she did to him?
“He did me like that, bent over the desk, fucking me so hard and good, I could have cried.” Her skin was flushed pink with arousal, her pupils wide, her nipples tight against her sport bra.
He wanted to touch her. He fucking ached to touch her.
He didn’t know who stepped closer, her, him, but her breasts brushed him as she whispered, “He came on me. I rubbed it in and sucked him clean.” Then she delivered the coup de grace. “Do you want to taste him on me?”
“Fuck, yes.” His voice sounded choked even to him.
She stepped back, closed the door, then leaned against it. “He’s tall like you, and he loves to fuck me up against a door or a wall.”
Clay couldn’t wait another moment to put his hands on her. He hauled her up by the armpits, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. His hard cock rode her warm, wet center.
Then he tasted her the way he’d been dying to.
Chapter Seven
He feasted on her as if she were a delicacy he’d couldn’t get enough of. His taste was better than she could have imagined, coffee and mint and male. Between her legs, his cock pressed hard, insistent. His hands were all over her, holding her ass, sliding up her torso, pinching her nipple.
She backed off to whisper against his lips, “Can you taste him?”
“Christ yes.” Then he tasted some more.
She tightened her arms around his neck and rocked against him. But she couldn’t stop talking. He needed the talk. She didn’t want him to think about Ruby. “I ask, ‘Mr. Blackwell, do you want to fuck me?’ And he says, ‘God, Miss Murphy, I need you to suck my cock.’”
He groaned. “Fuck.” He squeezed her ass and pushed her hard against the door, sliding against her through the thin fabric of her jogging pants.
“I want you to pull off my clothes and lick me. I want you to taste him. He came on me. I want you down there.”
He yanked her away from the door and, her legs still wrapped around him, he carried her to the conference table. “I want you.”
He didn’t say he wanted to taste another man on her, but that he wanted her. Her heart began to beat harder in her chest.
Pushing her to her back on the table, he made faster work of the leggings than Vince had, but he didn’t remove her panties. Leaning over her, eyes locked, he slid his fingers over the damp crotch. They were plain cotton; he didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re still wet from him.”
“I’m wet from you,” she said.
His eyes deepened to the color of a dark untamed forest as he stroked the lips of her sex through the material. “Did he touch you this way?”
“Yes.”
He bent down to give her nipple a gentle bite, then pushed up her shirt to the edge of her sports bra. “Your skin is so smooth.” He kissed her abdomen, headed lower. He licked along the elastic waist of her panties. Her skin quivered beneath his touch.
Then he trailed his nose over her mound to her center. “Oh yeah, you’re wet.” He breathed deeply. “You smell like come. And warm, wet woman.”
He spread her legs, her knees hanging over the edge of the table, and traced his finger along the cleft of her pussy. On the way back up, he flicked over her clitoris. “Did he play with you like this?”
“No, he just took off my panties and started licking me.” Though he’d only licked her once before she’d begged him to fuck her. She wanted Clay to linger, to taste, to learn all her ins and out.
Rolling a chair close with his foot, he sat down between her legs. Then he put his hands under her, cupped her butt, and pulled her to the edge of the table. Jessica went up on her elbows to watch him.
“Do you like it when he licks you?”
She could feel his breath on her. “I like it best when I pretend it’s you.” Ruby had gone on and on about how much better Bradley was. She wanted Clay to know there was no one better.
He nuzzled her, licked her through the panties. She needed more.
“Take them off. Please.” She began shoving her panties down herself.
He helped pull them the rest of the way, down her legs, then he put the cotton to his face, his eyes closed as if he were in bliss. He was drinking her in, feasting on her scents. It was the most incredibly sensual thing a man had ever done.
“I’m going to keep them,” he said, and shoved her panties into his back pocket. He parted her thighs once more, gazed at her. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered.
Her heart went to her throat.
Then he leaned down to rub his face against her, smelling her, marking her. And finally his lips, oh God, nibbling, his tongue, licking, then everything, sucking her, driving her mad.
“He doesn’t do it like this.” She cried out for him. “No one does it like you.”
The peak came on her so fast, she clamped her legs together around his head. “Yes, yes, yes. He’s all over me. You can taste him, smell him.” And she came hard for him.
Before the climax was even over, he rolled her to her stomach, her feet planted on the carpet. Then he put his fingers inside her and kissed her ass where Vince had come on her.
This time she actually screamed when she came.
* * * * *
God, what he wouldn’t give to be deep inside her, but he stopped short of taking her. There was wrong, and then there was totally fucked up. He’d lost complete control and broken too many of his own rules as it was.
Instead he absorbed the pulse of her climax, the intoxicating scent of her arousal mingled with her fuck buddy’s come. He could taste them both on his lips. She was sweet, the come salty, a perfect blend.
He reveled in the connection, their bodies fused together, two minds whirling with the same needs and desires. This was what he wanted from sex. Other men found it with one woman; he laid claim to it after giving his woman away for an evening, knowing she couldn’t wait to get back to him and make him crazy with all the details.
He could never explain it to his ex-wife. He couldn’t explain why he’d never felt this so keenly with Ruby. He didn’t know why. It defied logic. It simply was.
Yet he didn’t have a right to take it with Jessica.
Her heat seeped into him through his clothing as he lay curled over her prone body on the table. He absorbed, he savored, he reveled. But when her breathing slowed and he could no longer feel her heart racing beneath him, he knew it was time to let go.
He rose, chilled without her warmth filling him.
“Don’t you want to—” She stopped when she saw he’d retrieved her jogging pants.
“You gave me more than I hoped for.” He wanted to relish what they’d done.
“Oh. But I could—” Her face flushed as she cut herself off. They both knew what she was going to offer, but the moment was lost.
“What we had was perfect, Jessica.” Christ, he needed much more, but it was wrong on so many levels.
She didn’t argue, but simply took the pants from him and stepped into them awkwardly. The ends got stuck on her tennis shoes. Her hair had escaped from her pony tail, locks of it springing out in gentle curls.
“Yes, well...” She waved her hands, then clenched her fingers into fists. “I better get you those answers you wanted.” She sidled past him toward the door, her cheeks a flaming embarrassed red.
He couldn’t say what had just occurred was meaningless, but nor could he tell her it meant everything. He couldn’t admit Ruby had never given him the same sense of connection. He’d found something with Ruby, yes, but with Jessica, it was somehow more, better, beyond. The fact that he didn’t know why was actually terrifying.
No, he couldn’t say all that. “Thank you” was all he could give h
er.
“I should thank you, sure...” Her hands fluttered again, then she grabbed the doorknob. She didn’t run to her office, but turned in the opposite direction, and moments later the door to the ladies’ room closed.
He was a schmuck. But he wasn’t sorry for touching her. He could only regret the circumstances. He’d been angry with Ruby. And he had that goddamn condom in his pocket. He could feel it there now, along with Jessica’s panties. He’d wanted to use it, wanted to stick it to Ruby, wanted his revenge.
That last thought was the thing that had stopped him. He couldn’t use Jessica to get at Ruby. She was better than revenge sex with a condom his girlfriend had given him.
In a mere three days, so much had changed. He stared at the desk where Ruby had fucked her lover. He could feel her there, hear her moans, that husky wail she made when she came. The sounds from three days ago echoed in his office.
Only Jessica had drowned them out. When he’d touched her, Ruby didn’t exist. If that condom in his pocket hadn’t come from Ruby’s stash, he would have fucked Jessica. Yet its presence reminded him of who he was. Jessica’s boss. A man breaking his own rules.
The restroom door hadn’t opened again. She was waiting for him to leave. He wished there was something he could have said to change that, but there wasn’t a damn thing.
After one last look at the desk where Ruby had cuckolded him, then to the table where he’d taken Jessica with everything but his cock, he backed out of the office and locked the door.
He didn’t like how he’d felt or what he’d done, how important it had been. He didn’t like the man he could potentially become if he didn’t stop.
* * * * *
This was pathetic, sitting on the toilet lid with the stall door locked as if he might follow her into the ladies’ room.
She was the one who’d gone to his office. He’d told her to get out, but she just kept talking. Then she’d thrown herself at him.
Revenge Sex: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 1 Page 5