DrillingDownDeep

by Angela Claire

  He wondered idly if she would ever admit to spying for Transcoastal. Oh well. That one didn’t matter. The bomb, on the other hand…

  “No. By the end of the night, everything was where I’d left it. We do need to work on your ‘taking orders’ skills, but even I have to admit that gets a little tedious. Telling a woman what to do all the time. Put your hand there. Suck that. So actually, I like my mistresses to show a little initiative now and then. You did that quite nicely as Shelly if I recall correctly.”

  He recalled all right. The first time she had fucked him he never came so hard. And against his own stomach to boot.

  His cock jerked toward her at the memory. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Okay, I changed my mind about that initiative thing. I’m going to be doing a lot of ordering around at the beginning of this relationship apparently.”

  “It isn’t a relationship. It’s a job.”

  “Whatever it is. Now open my pants and take my cock out. Then put it in that gorgeous mouth of yours and suck it until I come.” He was pleased that his voice sounded calm again, the way it usually did during sex.

  She leaned forward. “Never let it be said that Vanny Donald doesn’t put her heart into her work.” She unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and tugged them down. He sucked in a breath at the stab of pleasure he felt. At her urging, he stepped out of his trousers, balancing his hands on her shoulders for a second as she kneeled in front of him. She even pulled his fucking socks off, but left the underwear on to his disappointment, and sat back down on the bed.

  “Briefs,” she commented with a little laugh. “Not boxers. I didn’t remember that from the night at the Four Seasons. And of course on the rig, you just yanked your cock out and went at it. Didn’t even undress.”

  He was standing in front of her on the bed, at the perfect angle. Her hands grazed down his ass without pulling the briefs off and then rubbed lightly along the inside of his thighs and he spread his legs to get his bearings in preparation for that sweet mouth coming his way.

  Hands gripping his ass, she rubbed her lips along the cotton being sorely tested in his enthusiasm and then lower to where it covered his balls. As much as he wanted her to do it on her own, he couldn’t wait and he pushed the underwear off quickly himself so he was naked in front of her, his hard cock straining toward her perfectly situated mouth.

  She laughed again, running one hand casually down the shaft of his cock, and he felt it in his spine. And his balls.

  “Your mouth,” he said, a little more strained than before, but not panting for her or anything.

  She licked him delicately, teasing him, and he dug his hands in her hair. He could have pulled her head to his throbbing cock, made her take it in the mouth, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

  Well, no, that was what he wanted of course, but he wanted her to do it.

  As she toyed with him, he found himself groaning. Pretty loudly to his surprise, until she pulled back and hissed, “Sshhh.”

  He stared at her, but since he wanted her to go back to it, said nothing.

  “Losing a little of that control again, Michael, aren’t you?”

  And then she engulfed him with her mouth, took all of him, running her mouth up and down his cock as he helplessly gripped her silky hair and she gripped his ass. Not to pull him into her, he was doing that on his own, fucking her mouth with absolutely zero restraint.

  Something he’d always used to think was kind of rude.

  But right now, he couldn’t give a fuck.

  He moaned again, louder, thrusting faster and she sucked skillfully, not shushing him this time. Her blonde silky curls in his fists felt damp with the sweat from his palms, and he could feel the moisture of his exertions on his brow. She kept her eyes closed as she went down him, but he kept his open. Wide open so he could catch every nuance of the sight of her in front of him, his cock filling her sweet little mouth, sliding in and out, her cheeks hollowing with the suction. He only wished he’d gotten her to take her top off first. He’d love to see her naked breasts shaking slightly with the vigor of his thrusts.

  She took him deep, deeper each time, her wet mouth engulfing him. He groaned and as if the sound was a signal to her, she relinquished her grip on one of his ass cheeks and slid her fingers around to cup his balls and he felt that wild telltale warning he was about to shoot his load.

  He had intended to come in her mouth and have her swallow. Have her service him in the true sense of the word, but at the last second, he wanted her as wild for him as he was at that moment. Not sucking him off, but shuddering underneath him, crying louder than he was.

  He jerked out of her mouth and pushed her onto the bed, yanking her jeans down and off. She scooted back against the headboard and spread her thighs wantonly, displaying the glistening pink tender bits in between, all for him. God, when he finally got enough of her to keep his head while they fucked, he was going to explore every inch of her beautiful body. But for now, he just couldn’t take the time.

  The bed springs creaked as he climbed in between her legs and pulled her down beneath him, holding her taut thighs apart, his grip so fierce that he was probably leaving bruises. When he kissed her lips, they felt wet and puffy from his unruly cock as he slid his tongue between them.

  Then he rammed into her, hard, all the way inside her drenched pussy, bucking against her wildly, no more thought to rhythm or finesse than he’d given when she was going down on him.

  “Oh,” she panted underneath him, her inner muscles squeezing him, so wet and tight, as he held her legs wide open.

  Flexing into her, he wanted nothing more at this moment than to give her whatever she wanted. In bed anyway.

  “Oh what?” he muttered, the bed springs louder than anything else in the room at this point with the workout they were giving them.

  “Oh yes,” she mumbled against his lips, not exactly a clear instruction.

  He relinquished his grip on one thigh only to bring it up and around him, so he could feel her wrap one long leg around his ass. Her heel dug into his flesh, spurring him on, and her arms came up to his neck, spreading her fingers in his hair, tugging at the ends. She surged up into him as he gave it to her, one thrust coming as fast as another.

  Before meeting Vanny, he had been cocky enough to think that he’d made a science out of how long he could hold off his own orgasm, if he chose to do so. At his age and with his vast experience with women, he had honestly thought that he could pretty much fuck as long as he wanted. And come whenever he decided to, not when his body so decided based on whatever pussy he happened to be buried deep in at the time.

  He thrust and groaned.

  Oh how far the mighty had fallen. If he managed to make it ten minutes into fucking Vanny Donald, even one time, he’d consider it a triumph. But if this was humility, bring it on. This wild, heady excitement was like nothing he had ever felt before.

  “Oh,” she murmured again as he thrust hard, positioning her other long leg around his ass as well. He grabbed the top of the headboard to give him additional leverage.

  “Whatever you want, baby,” he assured her, kissing her, driving into her, until he broke their kiss to arch his head back with the powerful orgasm gripping him. With her legs and pussy hugging him tight, he felt her coming underneath him as well.

  Crying out pretty damn loud herself.

  Well, actually both of them were.

  He fell heavily on top of her, breathing hard.

  “You’re not very disciplined about that condom thing.”

  He glanced down at her and then rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

  The recessed mirrored ceiling.

  His predecessor was starting to grow on him.

  “I usually am, as a matter of fact.” Forget about holding off on an orgasm. Hell if he knew why he couldn’t seem to wait long enough to even put a condom on half the time with her. Then he thought of something. “Why did you keep shushing me?”
Probably the first time he had ever asked that question of anyone.

  He couldn’t remember ever being shushed before. Especially not during sex.

  “Well, isn’t your secretary out there still?”

  “So what?”

  “What if she can hear us? I wouldn’t want her to think we were in here doing what we’re in here doing.”

  Not that it mattered one bit, but he said, “There’s an office between us and her and two sturdy oak doors.”

  “You’re not some kind of pervert, are you? She’s not listening in through a hidden microphone or with her ear at the door or anything, is she?”

  “No, but in a minute I’m going to go out there and bring her in so she can testify to it if it’ll make you feel better. Look, it doesn’t matter what she does or doesn’t think we’re doing. She would never interrupt us. Never. Miss Prentiss is too good an executive assistant for that.”

  The knock on the door made her jump.

  “Mr. Reynolds, I’m sorry to disturb you, but your father’s on the phone.”

  “Take a message,” he barked to the closed door.

  “He’s quite insistent.”

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess,” Vanessa whispered. “Miss Prentiss is fired.”

  “Possibly. On the other hand, it’s extremely difficult for anyone to say no to my father, even Miss Prentiss.”

  “If she is fired, can I have her job?”

  “I have the cell right here, sir,” the voice through the door said. “I can just hand it to you. It’s about the Treasure Driller.”

  Vanessa sat up straighter and pulled her jeans back on. Michael put on his pants as well then went to the door. He opened it slightly and took the phone, slamming it shut again.

  “This isn’t a good time,” he said into the phone.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me there had been a bomb on one of the rigs?” his father asked from the other end of the line.

  He glanced at Vanessa. “Who told you that?”

  “Unfortunately, the anchorman on the national evening news did. Or at least he said ‘unconfirmed reports have indicated it’.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know how they got that. We evacuated the rig but only a few people knew the true reason why.” And one of them was sitting right in front of him.

  “I don’t have to tell you that this is very bad publicity, Michael.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  When he hung up, he said, “Who did you tell about the bomb?”

  “Me? Nobody! Except my dad of course.”

  “Well, somebody told the media and now it’s all over the news.”

  “Don’t look at me. Why would I tell anyone?”

  Why indeed. “Miss Prentiss,” he called, grabbing his shirt and putting it on.

  “Sir?” she said through the door.

  “Come in please.”

  Vanessa got up from the bed as she did.

  “Get me Linda Culver. She’s the head of our communication department,” he explained to Vanessa.

  “She’s already on the conference line in your office.”

  “Fine. Remind me why I bought an oil company again?”

  “I believe Mr. Fischer suggested it, sir.”

  “Please have a car take Miss Donald to my apartment,” he instructed Miss Prentiss without looking at Vanny. Miss Prentiss, though, was actually looking at him rather oddly, almost as if…no, she wouldn’t question his instructions, would she? Was everything in his damn life turning upside down suddenly?

  “Your apartment, sir?” Miss Prentiss repeated slowly.

  “Yes, my apartment, my apartment,” he said testily. “Call a car and put her in it and give her my keys.”

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he realized why Miss Prentiss may have been, well, not questioning him, but confirming with him. He never, ever, allowed a woman in his apartment when he wasn’t there. It gave them all sorts of proprietary ideas he never meant for them to have.

  But it was his damn rule. He could break it if he wanted to, couldn’t he?

  “Can I speak to you alone for a minute first?” Vanny asked him.

  Great, another country heard from.

  At his nod, Miss Prentiss left, closing the door behind her.

  “What is it? My mistress hangs out at my apartment until I can get there,” he lied readily in preparation for her refusing to go for some reason, or, being Vanny, for no reason probably.

  “I’m not a member of your harem, handsome. What’s the Stepford Secretary to you?”

  He fought down a smile at the use of her term. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’m what you might call a serial monogamist.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I only like to be with one woman at a time.”

  “Too confusing otherwise?”

  He ignored that.

  “I thought you were staying at the Four Seasons anyway.”

  “I was while we were negotiating the deal. When we bought Transcoastal, I got an apartment since I’d be in Houston more often. I just said the Four Seasons when we were on the rig to needle you. See if you’d confess to being Shelly.”

  “Were there a set of complicated instructions at the Four Seasons in case I showed up there?”

  “Yes. Miss Prentiss has undoubtedly already canceled them.” He kissed her, hard. “Just go, Vanny. I have to deal with this. I’ll come home to you as soon as I can.”

  Shit, the words “home to you” had just slipped out. What the hell was he doing? Home to the woman he’d just fired for planting a bomb? How screwed up was that?

  “I don’t have any clothes there.”

  That made him feel a little better about the whole thing. “You won’t need them,” he promised with a grin.

  “My truck’s here.”

  He opened the door deliberately to get her going. “Just give Miss Prentiss the details. She’ll have it taken wherever you want.”

  When she was gone, he went into his office and put the open line on the speaker phone. “Lin. What’s going on?”

  * * * * *

  What did a person say to a Stepford Secretary?

  “You seem pretty efficient,” Vanny offered as they walked to the elevator.

  “Thank you. I do my best.”

  Now that was even creepier. There was a sci-fi TV show that Vanny liked—canceled after two seasons of course—where all these gorgeous women were “dolls” and went around saying they “tried to be their best”.

  “You’re not a doll by any chance, are you?” she asked in an aside under her breath, but apparently loud enough for Miss Prentiss to catch it.

  “No, but sometimes I play one on TV.”

  She darted the woman a surprised glance and found her smiling slightly.

  “I liked that show too,” she said.

  “I’m surprised Michael allows you to watch television.”

  “Well, as I’m sure he’s already explained to you, despite our joined-at-the-hip working relationship, we’re not quite that close.”

  “Is that your standard ‘new mistress assurance’?”

  Why beat around the bush? Miss Prentiss probably ordered his condoms for him too, even if she couldn’t ensure he use them. Why pretend she didn’t know what Vanny was doing here or why she was going to his apartment?

  “No.” Miss Prentiss didn’t press the button to open the elevator, even though they were standing in front of it now. “I guess I’m being a little more forthright than I usually am. As a matter of fact, I make it a policy to be as superficial as possible with Mr. Reynolds’ lady friends. Since they lend themselves to that approach, I don’t find the effort particularly taxing.”

  “I’m sure I’m not his usual cup of tea,” she muttered, looking down at herself.

  “You’re a refreshing change.”

  Vanny considered how to take that. “You’re really very good. Telling the new kid on the b
lock exactly what she wants to hear and all.”

  “You’ll just have to see for yourself, Vanessa. If I may call you Vanessa,” she added.

  “Vanny.”

  This was probably all part of some devious new mistress initiation and Miss Prentiss was going to start grilling her on her knowledge of sexual positions or lock her in a dark closet.

  The reminder of Michael’s one weakness—or the one weakness he’d revealed to her, if he hadn’t been lying about that in the first place, she reminded herself—softened her a little.

  “What do I call you?” she asked.

  “Miss Prentiss. After eight years, I don’t think Mr. Reynolds even recalls my first name. So let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

  “I bet your next line is ‘he’s really not so bad when you get to know him’.”

  “I’m not sure anybody does, least of all me. Maybe you can change that.”

  Vanny grinned at her. “Stop it. You’re just too good at this.”

  Miss Prentiss grinned back, probably the biggest surprise she’d given Vanny in this whole conversation, and pushed the button to open the elevator. “Actually, I am. But I’m not using my incredible executive assistant skills right now. And the name’s Andrea. But don’t tell him that, okay?”

  * * * * *

  Vanny gaped at Michael’s apartment, setting the keys Andrea Prentiss had given her in a fancy bowl by the door. Cavernous didn’t do it justice. Thirty stories up, the windows in the front room looked out onto a twilight Houston and were two stories high in themselves at least. Maybe more. Polished oak floors seemed to stretch for a mile, a strategically placed chair or coffee table here or there. No cozy little living room for Michael Reynolds. Pure Architectural Digest.

  The apartment itself was bigger than any house she’d ever been in. She wandered around it in awe. There was a library, a game room, a kitchen that would do Julia Child proud and a half dozen other rooms of one sort or another. Five bathrooms by the time she stopped counting.

  And the bedroom. The jumbo-sized bed could have accommodated an orgy. She’d kicked her shoes off automatically when she’d come into the apartment and the wood—no carpet in here either of course—felt cold against her bare feet.