by Violet Heart
Her clit screamed for attention, and she took it between the knuckles of two slick fingers. Massaging the bundle of nerves, she tensed as ecstasy began to build. She matched the pace of both hands, stroking her clit and her nipple in ever-increasing jerks which took her higher and higher. It felt so good. So good. Yes. Oh, God. A little further. Yes-yes-yes!
She rested her head against the wall and surrendered to release. Ahh. She didn't move, enjoying the afterglow and catching her breath.
Why had it felt so much better than all the other times? So satisfying. Almost fulfilling. Her eyes flew open. Shit! She had pictured him. She was losing her mind.
She unhooked her heels and stomped her feet on the floor. She stood, yanking her underwear up. Damn him, damn him, damn him! She had expected a fifty-something man with a wife of thirty years and grandkids on the way. Instead, she got thirty-something athletic type with no fucking wedding ring. Boyish good looks on a muscular man. She had tried not to notice. He looked like he ought to play professional baseball, not sit behind a desk all day and spout legal jargon.
She worked her skirt over her thighs and buttoned her top. She grabbed the towel off the seat, she wiped off what remained of her juices from her fingers and headed to the sink. Debra could have warned her. The personnel manager hadn't even told her his name. To be fair, Melony hadn't reminded Debra, either. She hadn't thought it would be an issue. She never found attorneys attractive. Even the young, good-looking ones.
Making her way to her desk, she regretted her trip to the bathroom. She thought it would lessen her tension, but instead, it added to it. Now she had to avoid looking his way. Checking her e-mails, she printed the supply order confirmation and thanked Bob's secretary for dropping the schedule and summary in the inner office mail. She needed something to get her away from her desk before she turned and shot daggers at him through the glass partition and raised questions she had no intention of answering.
* * * *
Chip managed a gracious smile. "Well, thanks for taking the time to come by. You've really made me feel welcome. And I apologize again for the unexpected early start. Let's blame that on Bob, shall we?"
The personnel manager laughed, a fake party laugh that made him want to slap her. What was her name? He couldn't ask now. She'd just told him five minutes ago when she barged into his office. He walked her to the doorway and practically shoved her out.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Melony had returned to her desk. Where the hell had she been for so long? He closed his door, he went to his desk, and pretended to look through papers in his briefcase. He studied her from the corner of his eye. She appeared ruffled. Mussed. Not the put-together, in control young woman who completely undid him. Her skirt had wrinkles he suspected might never come out. The buttons on her blouse skewed a bit, like she had hastily tucked in the top. Hairs had come loose from her coiffure to lie along her temple and cheek.
He stared outright. Her lips were puffy and red. She'd been kissed. Hell, she'd been fucked! She had the telltale signs of a closet rendezvous if he'd ever seen them.
He scanned the office, looking for a man with the same signs. He only saw women. A sea of them. Turning to the window overlooking the street, he realized his hands had fisted. He shoved them in his pants pockets and took a deep breath. Why did he let this get to him? He just met her. For all he knew, she could be screwing every guy in the place. What did he care?
He cared. He wanted her screwing him. Only him. This was ridiculous. He'd known her an hour. It was just lust. It would pass.
Still, he walked to the door, not quite sure why. Pulling it open, he stuck his head out. "Can you work late this evening, Melony?"
"No, sir." She didn't spare him a glance as she pulled pages from her desktop printer.
Gee, not even a hesitation. "Chip," he corrected. "I really need you to stay."
"I have an appointment." She kept her back turned.
Did she feel guilty for her little afternoon escapade? Why should she? He didn't know her. He wanted her in the worst way, but he didn't know her. "Are you available afterward? I think I might really need you to help me get ready for Monday."
"Sorry. Busy."
Give me an inch, would ya? "How about Saturday?" Her hair seemed ready to collapse, and his hand itched to snatch out those sticks so it could fall over her shoulders.
"Not available."
He wished she would at least look at him. Then again, he didn't. He might have another embarrassing reaction. "I'll buy you lunch. Saturday. One o'clock. What do you say?"
"No."
Couldn't get any blunter than that. "Okay. I'll figure out something."
She gave a one-shoulder shrug and three-hole punched the papers. He turned on his heel, returned to his office, and slammed the door.
Chapter 3
"The nerve of that guy." Kathy wildly waved a hand in irritation, nearly knocking a man upside the head across the Tran bus's aisle. He flashed a scowl, but she ignored it. "First he comes in without telling anyone. Then he expects you to work overtime?"
"Yeah. What a jerk." Melony faced front, anxious to get to her car in the satellite parking lot. Two more years at the law firm and she'd have a spot in the garage attached to the back of the building. After today, she wondered if she could make it.
Behind her, Kathy muttered, "Chip. What kind of name is Chip, anyway? Sounds like a snack."
Melony snickered. She couldn't help it. The bus delivered them to the lot and Kathy reminded her of tonight's society meeting. The Society of Dominants and Submissives. She really needed to go and find a new partner. First, she had to break it off with George, which promised to be excruciating. To her nerves, anyway.
Thankfully, the ride home went smoothly, with no accidents or jams to slow traffic. She showered, dried and curled her hair, then ate half a sandwich. She expected George soon, and too much to eat would make it difficult to lace her leather bodice. She had considered meeting him in street clothes, but with George, she didn't think he would listen unless she looked threatening.
Her doorbell rang, and she tossed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. With an unhurried step, she went to the door and peered through the peephole. Yep. George. She would make him wait. He hated that.
In her bedroom, she tossed her robe on the bed and drew the black leather top over her head. Her stomach rumbled, unsatisfied with such a small dinner. She pulled the laces tight at the small of her back as the bell rang again. With slow, deliberate movements, she tied a bow and worked her way into skin-tight, patent leather pants.
The bell rang a third time and she called down the hall, "One more time and I'll make you pay."
"Promise?" came George's muffled response.
Shes shook her head, stepped into four-inch heeled leather boots, and zipped them closed to mid-thigh. She adjusted her breasts so they rounded at the edge of the bustier then knocked the thermostat down a notch as she passed. At the door, she flipped the lock and told him to come in before moving to a kitchen drawer where she kept a low voltage Taser.
"Ooo, that's new," he said, his dull eyes reflecting fear as he closed the door behind him.
She glanced at the wall clock. She would have to make this fast to get to the seven o'clock society meeting. "This is going to be short and sweet, George," she promised.
He faltered backward. "I knew it. You're going to kill me, aren't you? I never should have gotten into this stuff. You're all psycho—"
"George! Chill. I'm just breaking up with you." The day had worn on her patience, and she hoped George wouldn't whine. "Go to the meeting tonight and find another Dom."
His face fell. "But I love you."
"Oh, shut up. For goodness' sake, go home to your wife and kids." Why did he have to be so pathetic?
"But—"
She flipped the switch on the zapper and it crackled to life with a threatening hum. She walked slowly toward him. Through clenched teeth for show, she said, "Back out of my apartm
ent, George, or I'll send a charge of electricity through your balls that will char the hair right off."
His breath came in tiny pants as his fear intensified. She sniffed. He reeked of fright. "I might like it." He didn't sound convinced.
"I don't think you want to find out," she warned, nearing a step. She aimed the taser at his crotch. It hummed louder.
Finally, he took two quick steps to the door. "You won't think about it? We haven't even had sex. Give me a second chance?"
The thought of his pasty, doughy body pumping into her made her want to scream with disgust. "I'm not that kind of dom. Now, get out."
He opened the door only enough to squeeze out with a pathetic grunt. When the door closed, she breathed a sigh of relief. It had gone easier than she'd thought. She turned off the zapper and tucked it into its drawer. Then the doorbell rang.
"For goodness' sake, George," she yelled in frustration as she flung open the door.
She froze. Not George.
"Holy shit!" Her boss dropped his briefcase and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He raked her with his gaze, his eyes bulging.
This was not good. Feigning nonchalance, Melony rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?" She gathered the makings for another half a sandwich.
As if snapping out of a trance, he retrieved his satchel and came inside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
That plucked her last nerve. Drawing confidence from her uniform, she turned on him. "I'm making a sandwich," she ground out. "And don't you ever talk to me like that. I am not answerable to you outside the office."
"I hear you loud and clear. I apologize. It's just that I wasn't expecting… this." He waved his arm up and down, taking in her garb. He stared, as though waiting for her to explain.
He'd wait until pigs flew. "How did you know where I live?"
"I searched you on Accurint."
The jackass searched her private information without asking? "Look here, Mr. Albemarle—"
"Chip," he interrupted.
"Whatever. You can't just come here like this. I don't know how they do things in Boston, but we don't behave this way in Virginia. I told you, I can't work tonight." Melony slapped a piece of bread on the counter.
"The people of Boston are perfectly civilized," he assured, leaning on the counter.
"Then it's just you." Extending a pointer finger, she shooed him. "Don't get comfortable. You're leaving."
He didn't budge. "You look incredible in that get up. You going to a costume party?"
"Get up? Are you pretending to be a cowboy or something?" Cheese, ham, mayonnaise.
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" He grinned.
Damn, but he was charming. Suppressing a smile, she simply answered, "No."
"So, are you going to a costume party?" He leaned closer.
"Don't breathe on my food." She set the jar of mayonnaise and lunchmeat packages in the refrigerator and picked up her sandwich.
"You didn't answer me."
She took a bite then pointed to her lips and shook her head.
"Ha-ha. No talking with your mouth full, huh? I get it. You don't want to tell." He winked.
Did he think she was a pushover? She swallowed. "Why'd you come here?"
He stood at attention, glancing around. "Oh, right. Right." He plunked his briefcase on the counter and unlocked it. "I pulled some information about Judge Edmonds from the internet." Chip looked at page after page, stacking them neatly, one at a time. "Rulings. His appointment to the seat. His law practice. His education—"
"Okay, stop. Stop." Melony laid a hand on his and regretted it. A spark of awareness, far more intense than already existed between them, reared and bit her. Jumping, she yanked her hand as if he had burned her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine." Her voice shook, and she despised the weakness. She cleared her throat, she said, "None of that is going to get you anywhere with the judge."
Her hunger dissipated. She tossed the remaining sandwich in the trash. Rubbing her hand, she tingled with the memory of warm, thick skin and crisp, wiry hairs. Definitely athletic.
"What do you suggest?" He arched his eyebrows and waited.
An attorney asking a staff member how to relate to a judge? Highly suspicious. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. Do you know him?"
She studied him, glad he appeared as affected by the touch. His eyes, glassy and dark, watched her under half-lowered lids. Across his cheekbones, his skin stretched taut, as if he struggled to hold himself in check. She could have some fun, but she wanted him gone. He made her nervous. "I've worked with Judge Edmonds. Yes, I know him."
"And? You said not to use all this information. Bob's giving me nothing to go on. You know him. Spill." He shoved the papers into his satchel.
"Will you leave if I share?" She glanced at the clock again. Nearly seven o'clock. No time to change clothes.
"Yes. I promise."
She wished he would stop looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. To avoid brushing against him, she went around the kitchen island to the door and removed her hooded, ankle-length trench coat from the curly wooden stand. "He's laid back. Don't go in spouting facts and trying to kiss up to him. You'll only piss him off. Be honest. Be yourself, whatever that is. Ask questions. He loves to talk about his kids. His oldest boy and daughter-in-law are expecting a baby in September. If he really likes you, he'll invite you to his chambers." Dropping her keys in her coat pocket, she gestured at the door. "Now, get out."
His briefcase in hand, he opened the door and waved her to go first. "I like a woman with attitude."
"Don't even go there." Man, she was late. Kathy would give her what for.
She headed for the door to the parking lot, but he paused outside her apartment. "Aren't you going to lock the door?" he asked.
"It's automatic," she tossed over her shoulder. Before she reached the exit, his running footfalls came behind and his arm shot in front of her to open the door. "Knock it off, would ya? I don't need your chivalry."
He chuckled. Not the reaction she hoped to inspire. "Chivalry? I thought I was simply exercising good manners."
She narrowed her eyes. "What? All of a sudden you want to behave properly? Why blow a perfectly good track record?" She draped the coat over her shoulders and retrieved her keys.
"I said I was sorry."
"Go and do whatever it is you do. I've got to go." Melony used the remote on her key ring to unlock her car.
"How do you walk in those things?" He eyed her boots with amazement.
She huffed in frustration. "I mean it. Go."
"I'll just see you safely to your car." He stayed at her side. His body near, she actually felt his heat passing through her wrap to warm her arm. "Who has a costume party in March?"
She opened her car door and she gave him one last glance while settling into the driver's seat. "Full of questions, aren't you?"
She tried to close the door, but he held it ajar. "Have lunch with me tomorrow."
"I'm late." Stubborn! She put the key in the ignition.
"Please."
"Impressive. Your manners are improving by the minute." She turned the key and the engine roared to life.
"Do you want to make me beg?" He grinned a silly, boyish grin she liked entirely too much.
"That just happens to be my most favorite thing in the world." She gave him a deadly serious glare that melted away his grin and provided an immense sense of satisfaction. Now, that was more like it. She jerked the door, and it slammed. Her tires squealed as she smoked her way out of the parking lot.
Chapter 4
She couldn't be serious. Chip tapped his foot as her car pulled onto the street and stopped at a red light. She had told him absolutely nothing about herself. She had not answered any of his questions other than telling him she made a sandwich when he asked what she was doing. Sly. Wicked smart. God, and drop-dead gorgeous. Standing in the s
ame room with her set his body on fire.
He had thought his reaction in his office that afternoon had happened because she caught him by surprise. A fluke. He took pride in his self-control. But she proved him wrong.
In her apartment, his brain fizzled and his senses took over. He gave the appearance of a relaxed visitor, but inside, he was on meltdown. He barely remembered anything she had said about Judge Edmonds. He could only wonder which door led to the bedroom, and how difficult her leather outfit would be to remove.
As the red light continued to stay her, an impulse had him racing to his Mercedes. He had noticed a slight softening in her expression the last time he asked her to lunch. If he pushed a little harder, maybe she would accept. He could crash the party. Go as an attorney. He still wore his suit, after all.
Adrenaline gave him a rush as the light turned green, and he turned the key in the ignition. He screamed through the parking lot and chirped his tires when he hit the street, barely making it through as the light turned amber. Keeping his eyes on her taillights, he followed her through back streets to an industrial park full of warehouses and massive, sprawling office buildings. He waited for her to go inside before he pulled in and claimed a parking space near the street.
* * * *
"Where have you been? You're never late. I thought you were in an accident or something." Kathy marched from the ladies' room to join her in front of the meeting hall.
"Sorry. My apartment became Grand Central Station." For the Irritation Express.
Her friend hesitated. "George is here. He's all weepy and pale. Did you break it off with him?"
"Yeah." Really? Weepy? She didn't think he would take it so hard.
"You scared him? Made sure he won't come looking for you when your guard is down?" Kathy thrust out a hip and punched it with a fist.
Melony chuckled. "Threatened to fry his nads with a cattle prod."
Her friend threw arms wide and bear hugged her. "That's my girl. You make a mamma proud."
"You're not my mother," Melony said dryly.