“What a refreshing change you’ll be.”
His face darkened. He downed the whiskey and then poured another. “So. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know but apparently I was expected. Do you have a list at the reception desk of all the names and photos of the women with pending job offers?”
“No, only the top candidate.”
“You reopened the investigation into my father’s accident.” She didn’t know why she blurted it out like that. He didn’t seem surprised by her choice of initial conversation though.
He shrugged. “I reread the reports on the incident concerning your dad. I don’t believe he was responsible for the tampering with the valves.”
“Why not?”
“The medical report—the one they didn’t show you, I might add—indicated that he had been unconscious for at least ten minutes and maybe as much as a half hour when the pipes fell on his legs. But on the other hand, the report also indicated that the pipes could have only been on his legs for mere seconds. Otherwise the damage would have been far worse. You got to him just in time, having heard the pipes fall just as you claimed.”
He sipped his drink. “So how does a man who’s unconscious start a fire and mess with valves that could have only just been shattered or else the whole rig would’ve blown? How does he inadvertently bring down those pipes on himself? He was already out when all that happened. That’s what had been bothering me about the reports on the accident. I was so busy trying to digest all the terminology and show myself how smart I was that I missed what was right in front of me. The timing didn’t make sense.”
“I could have helped him,” she pointed out, though God knew why.
“And left your own father, who you adore by all accounts, unconscious for several minutes while you followed through with your evil plan of sabotage? I doubt it.”
She took a deep breath. It felt so good to have somebody finally believe them, not just Mick and the others through blind loyalty whether they really did or not, but somebody objective. And, she realized, fair.
He went on. “Plus, since those pipes fell on his legs while he was on the job, if the final investigation bears out he wasn’t responsible, he deserves workers’ compensation.”
It seemed kind of inadequate to say, but she did anyway. “Thanks.”
“It had nothing to do with you.”
“Does the outcome of the final investigation have anything to do with me?”
“As in?”
“As in, depend on anything else I do?”
“No. It’s a formality. Legal crap, you know. The pension committee has to approve the reinstatement. Why?”
She didn’t answer, but a corner of his mouth curved up at her suspicion. “I don’t run quite the evil empire you seem to think I do.”
All in all, this conversation was going much better than she had hoped. Maybe they could chalk everything up to a misunderstanding after all. “So does that mean I can have my job back?”
“Your job on the rig?”
She nodded.
“No. I’m not as convinced by your innocence with the bomb as I was by your father’s. I was there, remember? So I’d rather not take a chance with you on one of our rigs.”
She clamped down on her temper.
“The other position I offered you is still open though.”
Part of her had convinced herself that he threw that out on the rig in anger and wasn’t serious, that he wasn’t really that much of an asshole.
The other half was hoping he was.
And there was still that little matter of a hefty bank deposit.
She probably should have taken a clue as to his sincerity from the special service at the reception desk and all. And the wicked grin he was giving her now. He seemed more like the man she had picked up in the bar than he did the man on the rig, when he’d vacillated between stern bossman and, as she’d said to him at one point, human.
Now he just seemed as if he wanted to get laid.
Unfortunately, looking at him, being in the same room with him, a bedroom no less, so did she. So what the hell did that make her?
No different than any of his other mistresses, she assured herself, who probably had a hell of a lot better backgrounds than she did.
“Do you always pay in advance?”
“If it’s something I want, I’m willing to.”
“I didn’t accept your offer.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Maybe I’m here to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
“Considerably less fun than what I had in mind.”
She pointed out the obvious. “I could keep the money and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
“That was a chance I was willing to take.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t like getting something for nothing.”
“That’s very convenient because I don’t like giving something for nothing.”
They stared at each other.
“I could return the money.”
“It’s not about the money, Vanny.”
“It is to me.”
“Is it?”
“I’m surprised by your approach is all. Big payment to lure me, being decent with my dad, the red-carpet reception when I come here. I figured you more for the foreclosing-on-my-house and canceling-my-credit-card type. You know, kicking me out to the curb so I’d come and grovel.”
“Why? Do you like to grovel?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’d rather die. Which is exactly why I took the approach I did.”
She took a deep breath, not exactly sure what would come out. What did was, “Okay. I’ll give the mistress thing a try. Whatever. It’s not like it’d be that much of a hardship to fuck you. I’ve already done it anyway.”
“Please, don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.”
“Don’t you get enough enthusiasm from your other bimbos? I kind of get the idea my allure is less what I look like or my sparkling personality than it is the fact I—”
He sipped his glass of whiskey. “What? What were you going to say?”
She stayed silent.
“That you’re not falling all over me? That you’re playing hard to get? It’s not exactly a unique strategy. I’ve come across it once or twice.”
“Not playing,” she said before she could stop herself.
“As long as your pussy’s wet, I couldn’t care less. And rest assured, it certainly isn’t your sparkling personality that made me offer the deal. Your looks are quite nice though. I like that fresh-scrubbed country-girl glow.”
“Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm,” she muttered.
“So if it was somebody else—my father, for instance—you’d still take the position?”
“Sure,” she lied readily. She actually would draw the line at sleeping with an eighty-year-old, not that her pickiness made her any less of a whore. God knew what Michael Reynolds would make her do.
“Okay. I’ll give him a call.” Then he laughed. “You should see your face! I should do it. That’d serve you right. And he does like them young. Not quite this young anymore.” He finished the rest of his drink and slammed down the glass. “But actually, you were a good fuck. I want you for myself. And it’s not as if I can’t afford it. I’ve never had to pay for it though.”
She didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I’m sure you’ve probably paid for it one way or another your whole life,” she muttered.
“Ouch.”
He came up behind her and circled her waist, nuzzling her neck. He slipped the white shirt off her shoulders and flung it to the floor.
“Now?”
“No time like the present. And, as you said, I paid in advance.”
She couldn’t argue with that. His nearness unnerved her for some reason even though they’d been a hell of a lot closer. His hands grazed the zipper of her jeans and then the snap, but he didn’t unfasten t
hem. Instead, he surprised her by dipping them inside her pants. She sucked in a breath as his fingers lightly massaged her lower abdomen, then insinuated themselves under the elastic band at the top of her underwear to sift through the curls at the top of her crotch.
He pulled his hands out. “Your jeans are too loose.”
“They’re hip-huggers. They’re supposed to slip down below your waist. Anyway, I like them that way.”
“I don’t. I’ll buy you some jeans that fit you like jeans should fit a woman.”
“Tight?” she said resentfully.
“Tight enough to show the curve of what I know is a very lovely bottom. I can’t wait to get it in my hands as I fuck you again.” He caressed her ass as he said it. Outside the jeans, but she still shivered.
He smoothed away the curls at her nape, still behind her, and pressed his lips to her neck, kissing lightly along the curve down to where her tank top started. His hands went to the neckline. The rip startled her and she jumped, looking down in dismay. He’d ripped the top off her, as quickly and as easily as if it were tissue paper.
“A simple ‘take it off’ would have worked too.”
He came around the front of her to look at her half-naked body.
Well, not really half naked. Her utilitarian bra covered more than most swim suits. No black lace for her today. But he stared down at her as if he could see right through the thick white cotton. Glancing at his trousers, she saw that he was hardening. He started to unbutton his shirt.
“You don’t see me ripping yours off, do you?”
“I’d like to rip that ugly bra off too, but it looks like it’s made of sterner stuff than a city guy like me can tackle.” He slid his shirt off and she took in his bare chest.
Suddenly he leaned in to kiss her and she barely noticed the quick workings of his fingers behind her until she felt her bra open. He slid the straps down her shoulders and pulled the bra off before she could stop him.
Not that she would have stopped him. As far as the count went, she hadn’t ever stopped him in fact. Looked like she was going to make it three for three.
“Next time you can strip for me, nice and slow.”
She glanced at him quickly to see if he was hinting at anything other than that he evidently liked that. But his dark-blue eyes were fastened on her naked breasts. “Right now I’m going to cut right to the chase and fuck you quickly.”
“No need to give me a blow-by-blow report.”
“Shut up,” he said and then he was kissing her, his hands going greedily to her breasts, cupping them, massaging them, pulling on the nipples with sharp, pleasurable tugs.
He broke the kiss and, ignoring the bed, led her to the polished oak desk in one corner of the room, flipping her around so she faced away from him. With one hand, he pushed her shoulders down until she was leaning on her forearms on the desk and with the other he swiftly undid the snap on her jeans and unzipped them. Just when she expected him to yank them down along with her underwear, he stepped away.
She glanced back.
“Stay right there.”
He was unzipping his own pants, letting his throbbing cock out and then reaching into his back pocket before pulling them part way down. And all the time his eyes were on her ass stuck slightly out, his for the taking.
She turned her head back to face forward and heard him rip open the condom.
“Now pull your pants down.” His voice was low, controlled, but so obviously turned-on, she shivered. That made two of them.
Her hands went to her jeans, tugging on them, thinking he would want her naked.
“Stop.”
She did, though her pants were pulled down no lower than just enough to give him access.
She braced herself against the desk with her palms and jutted her ass out farther, feeling deliciously exposed. Let him look.
He moved closer, his legs nudging hers, and then his fingers were between her legs roughly, gauging. “Good,” he muttered.
No kidding.
“You’re wet. So easy to arouse. I like that in a woman.”
She felt his hard cock nudging one cheek of her bare ass, so hot she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a burn. Then he slipped his fingers in and out of her wetness a few times, causing her to involuntarily squeeze her inner muscles with the pleasure of his assured movement. This was one man who knew what he was doing in the bedroom, whether it was attached to an office or not. She bit her lip as his thumb flicked casually against her clit and she tried not to come, just yet anyway. No need for him to get more self-satisfied than he already was.
He laughed. “You’re tight too, Vanny.” His fingers explored. “Why is that? Not getting enough?”
“Just good genes, I guess,” she cracked.
“Well, let’s try to stretch you out a little, shall we?” And with that he replaced his fingers with his cock and quickly shoved inside her, pushing her forward with the movement so that the front of her legs bumped the desk. She sucked in a breath, groping with her palms against the oak surface to get her purchase. She had forgotten how big he was. He was stretching her all right, his cock throbbing inside her, testing her inner walls, but it felt so good, so right.
For a few seconds he stayed embedded in her, one hand wandering up to the wings of her shoulder blades and then her neck, caressing. She would have liked to think he was letting her get used to him, but he was probably merely savoring the possession of it. He’d bought her. Just as he could buy whatever he wanted.
That her skin tingled at his light touch, combined with the hard, heavy feel of him inside her, was not her fault.
He put his big hand flat on her back, as if to hold her down though she wasn’t going anywhere, and pulled his cock almost all the way out of her and then shoved himself in again and started to move, rhythmically, quickly and above all, forcefully. She could hear his harsh breathing behind her, feel his convulsive grip on her hip, holding her still for his cock, and the incredible sensation of him driving inside her as she got wetter and wetter. For the first time in her life she felt taken.
Her breath hitched at one particularly exquisitely aimed thrust and he paused. The hand on her back drifted up to the tangle of curls at her neck, rubbing, massaging. “Too rough?”
She heard a taunt in his tone, but he had stopped. He was quietly waiting, playing with her hair, caressing her neck. Even those casual touches brought her some kind of hypnotic, intoxicating pleasure all out of proportion with their innocent nature. Of course there was still the matter of his hard cock motionless inside her. There was nothing innocent about that.
And it wasn’t too rough. The feel of him moving inside her, that purposeful fucking, had been exquisite, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And she certainly wanted it to keep going. But his question was there.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. His dark hair fell forward as he dipped his head toward her, his eyes narrowed, waiting for her response. He looked very young suddenly, unguarded. As turned-on as he obviously was, as they both were, he was exercising restraint for once, holding himself back while his cock pulsed inside her. Predictably, the idea of it made her want to goad him on. She rotated her hips deliberately, causing a delicious tingle in her depths and an answering, almost automatic flex of his hips. “What do you think?” she whispered.
Eyes locked with hers, he put both hands solidly on her hips and withdrew his cock slowly. Then he thrust all the way back into her as she arched against him. “I think you can take it.”
He was so far up her that she groaned with it. Okay so maybe that was what they meant by a G-spot. Was it possible no man had even been so deeply inside her before? She didn’t know. Looking into his eyes as he moved against her, she felt at this very moment as if she’d never had another man but Michael Reynolds.
He pulled his cock out again even as her inner muscles hugged him tightly, silently begging for him to stay, or at the very least to give her the relief she knew he could. The friction of it touc
hed a thousand pleasure points tucked up inside her as did the opposite friction of him thrusting deep.
But she didn’t need him watching her, invading her very soul with those dark-blue eyes, as he started up his hot, steady slam of pleasure. So she dropped her head forward and closed her eyes. The oak underneath her palms was damp now with her sweat and she slipped a little against the surface as he worked her.
“I think you can take it,” he repeated in a low voice, the rhythm of his thrusts hard and rapid. “And I think you like it.”
She certainly couldn’t deny that.
“What about you, Michael? Do you like it?” Her voice sounded breathy and plaintive to her own ears and he didn’t bother to answer, instead moving more precisely, as if he knew just where to thrust and just how to swirl his cock in deep as he did.
She came with a soft moan, not trying to hide her orgasm, shuddering back against him, expecting him to let go and join her. But though he paused, tugging her even closer as the spasms overtook her, their bodies hot with the vigor of their sex, he did not. When she came back to herself she realized he was still rock-hard deep within her.
He leaned over her, closer, kissing her damp curls, his chest to her back, feverish skin to feverish skin. They fit so well together this way, almost spooning, that, ignoring the awkward circumstances, she welcomed his embrace. His mouth came to her ear, kissing and nipping, and his fingers found her sensitized nipples, playing with them while his cock started to move again below. “Your tits are so sweet,” he whispered.
For all her swearing, she’d never been one to use much language in bed with a man. Maybe because it was too much a part of her ordinary life. She didn’t eroticize it. Despite his vulgarity, or because of it, she felt on the verge of coming again and strained against him, reaching her arms back to ruffle her fingers through his hair. But he pulled out of her abruptly and stepped away.
She couldn’t stifle her moan of disappointment and he laughed. “Such a hot little thing. Just as I remembered.”
His voice sounded so calm and level again that when she straightened and turned around, she was almost surprised to see his incredible cock still sticking straight out, hard and angry, and wet with her juices. But of course it was. He hadn’t come yet. If he seemed embarrassed by his erection when she’d caught him with one in the cabin on the rig, he certainly wasn’t bothered by it now. Different time, different place, she guessed.
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