Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection
Page 90
Then she felt him. One hand gripped her hip; fingers splayed and pressed into her soft flesh. The other moved the head of his cock up and down her folds, sending languid pleasure through her post orgasmic bliss. It rekindled the ripples of pleasure that had just subsided. Fuck—this was going to be amazing.
“Is this what you want, every time you tease me?” He gripped her ponytail, tugging it gently to turn her face toward him. “Do you want it?”
“Yes.” Her skin tingled, nerves making her muscles tremble with the strain of holding herself together. Briar pressed back against him, impaling herself on him. Not enough. Just the beginning of him. “Take me,” she demanded.
He drove himself to the hilt, filling her nearly to the brink of her tolerance. A soft shriek broke free from her lips. He leaned forward, using her ponytail to guide her mouth to his. It lifted the top of her body to a more comfortable angle. He wrapped his arm around the front of her, holding her smashed into him as they kissed. She writhed beneath him as he ground into her.
Neither of them could keep this pace. A punishing grind that fired off the orgasm that never really left her. This one was more powerful than the first with the delicious resistance of his heard length pumping in and out of her and her body fighting to hold him in. He swallowed her screams with his lips. His body shook behind her as he groaned into their shared kiss. He held still, pressing her body flat into his.
He released her, letting her stumble forward as he fell back into his chair.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough. You deserve better.” He held out his arms to her, waiting for her to climb in his lap. She blinked back at him, frozen in place. Why was he apologizing for great sex? The fact that he wanted to cuddle made her want to reward him in much more entertaining ways, after they regained some stamina over takeout.
“Ms. Goodall, I owe you an apology, so get your ass over here so I can deliver.” A stab of guilt nibbled at the raw edges of her glow.
8
Ciaran waited for her with open arms as her post-coital high started to slip at that far off look in her eyes. Briar smiled and the knot that had formed in his stomach at the idea of having hurt her dissipated.
She pulled him from the chair by his hand, and led him to the sofa. Considering his pants were around his ankles, he was less then graceful, but he managed to step free of them, and deposit the condom in the trash on the way. She pushed him back and picked up the laptop he’d left on the coffee table earlier in the day before she settled back in the crook of his arm.
“I’ve been distracting you since yesterday afternoon. Think you can write policy while naked and eating Chinese?” Brair asked.
Ciaran looked down at her. She was already lost in thought pulling up the documents she needed.
Had he missed something? Women loved to cuddle and talk feelings. On the rare occasion he took the time to have a girlfriend; both those tasks were immediately on the agenda. As far as he was concerned, if he was spending time naked with her, risking his career and ultimate goal to be with her, this was a damned relationship.
Ciaran pulled the device from her hands and leaned forward to set it back on the table. “This isn’t work time. You clocked out at five when you walked through my door.”
Briar turned, to face him so that she draped across his lap, her back to the empty room. Blinking up at him, she traced her finger along each of his shirt buttons until she reached the few at the bottom he bothered to open. “How did we miss most of your shirt?”
He raised and dropped his shoulders to shrug. “I seem to recall someone demanding I pick up the pace.”
“Well, I had to wait a whole other day after getting so worked up last night.” A teasing smile played softly on her lips, making him feel the first flush of his returning stamina. “I said I didn’t want it in the parking lot, not that I didn’t want it at all.”
She ran her finger lightly up his spent cock. Taking it in her hand, she stroked slowly, watching it come back to life. She slid from his lap to kneel on the floor between his spread knees. The daylight was almost completely gone now and Ciaran had no strength to resist her in his state of semi-arousal and no desire to find a light switch to break the spell she was weaving around them.
“What are you doing?” His voice came out harsh in the quiet but she smiled anyway.
“Making up for lost time. I said there was something I wanted to try.”
Ciaran wanted to talk. They would have plenty of time to fuck, but with each downward stroke, he lost sight of the reason. He couldn’t see past the need to be inside her again, any way she wanted him.”
“Honey, where are the condoms?” Those doe eyes and her sugar sweat way of asking held him captive. “We can talk if you want to or we can enjoy each other. If you’re worried about my motivation, I promise I’m after more than your body. It’s just been awhile.”
How was he supposed to tell her no when she looked at him that way. “Top drawer.”
She crawled the short distance, giving him a view that had him more than ready when she returned with the box and a wide smile. “Layback, I’ll take over for a while.” She pulled out a strip of three. “You should save your strength.”
“You bitch. I gave you the damn divorce you wanted. Why’d they take my car.”
Briar winced as she sat back in her white leather chair. Crossing her legs at the knee, the fabric dug into tender places. “Hello, Todd. How can I help you today?”
“You had them repossess my car. What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” His angry voice crackled across the line.
She sighed loud enough for him to hear as she spun slowly in her seat. Hindsight, calling the bank on the car had been a low blow. Todd wasn’t wrong that he gave her everything she wanted—in the light of morning the whole vile thing had turned out better for her in the end.
Still Briar didn’t feel sorry for him, voice was artificially sweet with her bitterness. “When you don’t make your payments, those kinds of things happen.”
“Why didn’t you make my payments?”
She rolled her eyes at his entitled tone, but the spoiled child she had been married to couldn’t hear an eye roll so she elaborated. “I stopped paying when I opened the bedroom door. Ask your new piece of ass. Oh—wait, she dissolved her company and went bankrupt. You didn’t know that, did you. Did you actually think that you traded up?”
It was the whole reason she came home that day.
“Get it back,” his voice snapped like a whip.
Old Briar would have jumped at the command, ready to be the obedient wife. The well-sated version he called today had a better agenda just down the hall. “I fail to see how that’s my problem. Have a nice day.”
She swiped at the phone and left it face down on her desk. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes as she toyed with the frayed edge of her fashionably distressed jeans. She counted to twelve before her phone started to vibrate across the surface of her desk.
“Are you going to answer that?” The low rumble of Ciaran’s voice rolled through her, like Tom Hiddleston reading math, but without the yummy British accent.
His voice left a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She laid her hand over the device, holding it still until it stopped. “Not particularly. The only person I want to talk to is standing in my office.”
It earned her a half smile, as if he was trying not to but couldn’t seem to help himself. These were the truly sexy ones that made her forget where she was, at least until her phone buzzed again, dancing across the surface of her desk. “Now you want to talk.” Ciaran shook his head. “You’re just trying to avoid the lecture on dress code you know is coming. Those Jeans, Ms. Goodall.”
Just that easily he killed the smile he’d given her. She looked down at her distressed denim rather than met his eye. They didn’t jive with the policy they’d finally written together, but that was exactly why she wore them.
“What? It’s Friday.”
Fuck.
Briar picked at another spot on her jeans. Could she distract him with sex? Did she want to in the middle of the day when anyone could catch them? Probably not, and hell no. That meant she had to say it. She was divorced. He’d see the name when the social security card came back anyway. Did she think she could hide it forever? He would find out as soon as he meet Gigi if Ann didn’t get to him first. Both would threaten him within an inch of his life and not hesitate to tell him why.
She crossed her fingers that coffee included more than just her.
Five minutes waiting for her was long enough to make his day go to shit. His brother Hamish wouldn’t wait. There was another investor checking out the building and he needed to put in the bid. Ciaran dreaded asking Rand Senior for anything. It didn’t outweigh his needed to finish this business deal and bring his family back together.
If his Senior said no, he had a decision to make and a non-compete clause. He could afford this investment himself. He had the money to buy in on his own. As a single man with a salary larger than he needed, he saved it and invested. He meant it for when someone like Briar came along. Of course, in his plans that was still years out. But she was here, now, and he needed to be clear where this was going—what he wanted.
If she wasn’t on the same page he’d let the deal pass and continue as they were until she was. The only part in any of this that felt right was her. He wasn’t sure when that changed. Probably somewhere over dinner with Monica Fitch but that might only have been the push he needed to see it, rather than the moment. Actually having to sit across from the future his grandfather wanted for him, while sitting beside the warm and vibrant woman who in four days made him want to charter a plan for Vegas, had drastically shifted the lens through which he viewed his life.
The sense that something had altered her attitude followed her into his office as she entered. The smile she’d given him so casually in her office had been replaced by her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Four days hadn’t given him the wisdom to know if that always meant something bad. The pinched look her between her eyes and the way she couldn’t seem to look up past the tips of her own shoes fills in the blanks for him.
She pushed up the sleeves of her oversized white sweater and instead of the beads that she always seemed to toy with she fiddled with the black watch that looked out of place on her dainty arm. She picked up her coffee as she sat leaving space between them.
“What’s going on up there?” He gently gripped her arm and pulled her forward to lay a chaste kiss on her forehead, before letting her relax back into the distance she seemed to crave. For the first time it occurred to him that, he might have hurt her last night and she hadn’t told him. She was an athletic woman but the difference in size might have mattered. More so if she hadn’t had those sky high heels on. The standing sex might not have worked without them. He pushed the thought from his mind before his dick had a chance to react. “I didn’t do anything wrong did I?”
Briar laid her head on his shoulder. “You were amazing. I just need to tell you something that I’m pretty sure you won’t like.”
Ciaran leaned back slightly to watch the pensive look on her face. How bad was it? They rushed into this, so there was bound to be things he didn’t know. They would get through it. They got out of their own damn way hadn’t they? Hell, they had turned their need to pick at each other into foreplay at this point.
“Say it. You’ll feel better and then we can get past it.”
She took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself. “Yesterday when you asked why I was so happy, it wasn’t about you. It was something I had to clear up back in St. Cloud. It had to do with the phone call I didn’t want to answer when you were in my office.”
He recalled the conversation. He’d been totally absorbed in their banter both times. Took a drink of his coffee, hoping the bitterness would alleviate his sudden dry mouth as he waited for her to finish.
She sketched lazy circles on the thigh of his 501s as she continued. “My ex-husband signed the divorce papers yesterday.” She scrunched up her face and let her head fall forward so that her hair obscured her face, letting the purple streaks she added peak out. “I went to the lawyer to sign documents that will change my name back to Sullivan. I’m Briar Sullivan, not Briar Goodall.”
Ciaran let out the breath he had been holding and pressed his palm to his chest. His mind raced back, to her sudden attitude change after they slept together—he thought he was being cute calling her Ms. Goodall. The relief burst into laughter.
Briar scrambled sideways before moving to stand, but he pulled her back down. “Wait, let me explain.” He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her until he had her attention.
Briar crossed her arms over her breasts, voice waivered with emotion. “I’m serious and you’re laughing. I’ve got no idea what the hell I’m even doing.”
She probably thought he was deranged, but all he wanted was to kiss her and maybe try that reverse cowgirl on the Chesterfield again.
When she sat still, he loosened his hold. “I never told you why I’m supposed to inherit the company even though my father is still living and I have an older brother.”
“What do they have to do with anything?” Briar’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. She still, clearly assumed the death of their unconventional romance was imminent instead of acknowledging the firm ground it took root in without her noticing.
“Jamison Rand Sr., my grandfather, cut off his only son because he married a pregnant divorcee, my mother. Other than you not being pregnant…” Ciaran paused and lifted her chin to look directly at him. “You aren’t, right?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open in surprise.
Ciaran pulled her closer, leaning his forehead against hers. “If we fly to Vegas tonight, and I’m not saying we are, I will have completed the circle and become my father. I couldn’t be happier.” She did have to know he really had been thinking about Vegas and her in the same sentence all morning.
Sparkling with tears, her gray eyes held onto them like her face would melt. Instead of letting them go, she traced her fingers along the beginnings of his beard growth. She pulled him into a brief kiss, interrupted by a clamber at the door. Again, she tried to leap from his lap, but now the consequences didn’t matter and he wasn’t letting her move.
Jack’s voice carried through the opening door. “Mr. Rand, your grandson is in the middle of a meeting. If you’ll just wait. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Let him in, Jack.”
His friend and longtime assistant turned with a horrified expression, his eyes wide as Jamison Sr. shoved the larger man out of the way. He was yelling before he even noticed the compromising position they were in.
“Young man, do you know the trouble I went to in order to get you that date with Monica Fitch. You finally go after three cancelations and I have to hear in the country club that you were playing footsy at the table with some escort and making out in the damn parking lot. I thought I raised you better!” By the time he finish, his haggard voice weaved,
Ciaran’s spine straightened but he drew strength from the woman sitting calmly on his lap. For all her panic, now that the crisis was here, she held herself perfectly still. Only moving to slip her slim hand in his.
A vain pulsed at the old man’s temple as he pounded his cane on the floor. “Is this the floosy now? You brought your kept woman to my office?”
Jack made a choking sound behind Rand Sr.
Ciaran narrowed his eyes at the old man, as Briar slid slowly off his lap.
“She is neither a kept woman nor a floosy. My mother taught me better manners than to speak that way about a woman, especially in the ladies’ presence.” Ciaran stood and Briar
moved to stand at his side, fingers still twined with his. His voice remained calm, lacking the both the vitriol and malice of his mentor. “And since this is the first time you’ve set foot in the building in more than one year, this is my office. You are only a figurehead. I run this business now and I’d like to see you run it without me.”
Briar extended her right hand to Jamison Sr., attempting the softer voice of reason. “I’m your HR Director, Briar Sullivan.” He glared at the appendage as though it were covered in gore. She let her hand drop back to her side.
The old man stammered as his face turned a deeper shade of red, his eyes bulged as the thinned lips in his cragged face turned white with his increased rage. “All the years I wasted on you, boy. Only to have you turn your position into a mockery!”
Ciaran had enough. He focused his full attention on Briar. “Speed Racer, honey, how do you feel about industrial loft homes? I’m switching family businesses. Seems there are some exciting development opportunities. Ground floor on what appears to be an up and coming industry.”
She pressed her lips together in a tiny smile, where it was from the job offer or the endearments he couldn’t be sure. But then she leaned into him squeezing his hand tight.
“Did I ever tell you my parents were in the salvage business before I helped mother liquidate? I’d be happy to lend my experience. I formally resign my position as HR Director for Rand Enterprises.” She squared her shoulders and held her hand out for Ciaran to take it, as though they were meeting for the first time instead of being new lovers. “I’ve been offered a position with a rising development company. It’s too good to pass up.”
Ciaran used the handshake to pull Briar in until her body flattened against his. He closed her the deal with a kiss, not as heated as it might have been if they were along, but enough that Jack cleared his throat to remind them where they were. The audience didn’t matter. Jamison Sr. should see exactly the loyalty he was losing.