He looks over and whispers, “Here comes –”
“Yeah… I hear the Jaws theme.”
“Meet me in the bathroom downstairs,” James whisper-commands.
“What? How am I going to?
“Do it.” He winks and leaves.
I look at the computer screen and wonder how the hell am I going to get away when she just got here. No doubt she’ll have a shit load of stuff for me to do.
Oh. Wait.
“Jessica! You’re here early. Did the wolves let you out of the cave ahead of schedule?” She looks at me like she’s just said the funniest thing ever said by anybody. I want to punch her, but I do the smart thing and… laugh.
“Ha! That’s funny. They did. Yes.” I look down to avoid killing her with my death-beam laser eyes.
“What did James want?” she demands.
“Oh… uh…nothing. He was being annoying. I’m supposed to get my tax documentation up to date with H.R. Blah blah. You know how they are.”
She buys this and starts to rattle off, “I need you to email Connie – ”
I cut her off with, “I did. She already got back to me. She has a 4:30 p.m. open for you,” I wait and watch her take this in.
“Well that’s no good because – ”
“Yeah, because you’re getting your nails done in the Upper East Side at 3:30 p.m. So I made her change it 5:30 p.m. She said that would not be a problem.”
Her overly-severe ponytail threatens to burst. She is beside herself. Doesn’t know where to turn. Then she announces triumphantly, “Don’t forget to email Event Security and tell them to – ”
Just then an email alert beeps through.
We both look at my computer and I say, “That’s them now. One moment, please.” I open it and rea,d “Looks like they’ve got everyone on the list. Oh, and they’ve given us a number to call, in case there’re any problems, day of.”
I swivel back to her, waiting innocently.
“I’ll think of more,” she says diabolically, about to leave. But I stop her.
“Oh – one more thing,” As she turns, infuriated by my competence, I see her ponytail whip around and hit her in the face. I feel my own heart beat faster, because I know that what I’m about to say is going to send her clear into what-the-f-just-happened-ville.
“What?!” she demands, aggravated.
“Stella McCartney is sending her perfume. It will arrive by courier, this afternoon. And I’ve emailed the minions to make sure that the moment it arrives, they stop everything and put it in the goody bags. Priority number one.”
This punches her in her proverbial face. Her eyes are the size of saucers, as is her mouth. She shuts it, gulps, and stands there speechless, staring at me. She doesn’t know whether to slap me or give me a raise. The former, from the look on her face. She has the gall to announce, “Well, of course, she’s sending it! I never doubted it for a second.” She flips around and stomps away.
I call after her departing figure, “I’m not feeling well, again. I prefer the bathroom downstairs, so…”
“GO!” she calls over her shoulder, before she escapes into her office to get far away from me, the alien who stole my body and became Super-Jessica (shudder).
I stand up and look around to make sure the coast is clear, so I can put my panties back on. I’m not walking downstairs without panties. No way! After I slide them safely back on, I fly out of my chair and walk very quickly to the elevator. Everyone I pass, after what I just yelled, thinks I have to poop. But that’s okay. They won’t wonder why I’m taking so long.
I am a genius.
Minutes Later
When I come out of the elevator, there are a lot of people entering the building for work. They’re signing in with the security desk, talking on their cellphones, fighting each other for who gets to get onto the elevator first. It’s a madhouse, as usual. And it’s only 9 a.m. I shake my head and make a beeline for the bathroom. There’s a girl waiting in line. Short brown super chic hair. Brown eyes that remind me of Keira Knightley’s. I don’t know her, but I absolutely love her dress. It’s a Gretchen Jones piece. I could tell instantly by the patterns because they remind me of Atari, that old video game my older brother used to play.
“Gretchen Jones?” I offer, trying to show how cool I am. That designer is so hot right now. Everyone loves her, including me.
“Yep.” The way she answers me makes me feel like a loser. That’s not the feeling I was going for. I know I should shut up, and write her off, but I don’t.
“I was at her show last fall. I handle all of Fashion Week. Our passes. Who gets what. You know. All that stuff,” I vomit.
She doesn’t say anything. She’s had Botox. I can tell. And she’s like what, twenty-eight? She’s cute so what is she doing getting Botox? The bar is raised in this city. I get it.
Her silence is so loud I feel myself needing to compete with it. I can’t help it.
“Have you been to their store in Chelsea?” I continue, smiling a little. Okay, a lot. She gives me an answer with the smallest shake of her head and looks at the door, hoping I’ll leave her alone.
You know what. Screw her. I decide to really freak her out. “We should hang out, sometime. I can find you on Facebook.”
That does it.
“Tyler! Hey!” she yells to some guy who turns at her voice. To me she says, “Excuse me,” and makes a beeline for him, leaving me alone with the bathroom door.
Ha! Suck on that one time. I tap on the door. It opens and James smiles at me, looks around, grabs my arm and yanks me in before shutting the door and locking it.
“That was really smooth, Jess.” He smirks, pulling me toward him.
“She was a bitch,” I tell him from behind a grin.
“I know. I could tell by her knock that it wasn’t you. So I waited.”
He leans down and kisses me. I feel electric shocks light up my body and it’s so unexpected that I gasp. We pull away and look at each other. He felt it, too. That wasn’t your average kiss.
“Umm…” I whisper.
“What was that?” he asks me, surprised.
“I don’t know. It was something.”
“It sure was.” He picks me up like Mark did in the elevator (Oh my God. Do not think of Mark right now!) and carries me over to the sink where he sits me down on it, my legs wrapped around him.
He takes my mouth in his, searches me as I respond and allow him in. We both breathe in each other, the chemistry blowing up and igniting us. I don’t know if this heightened electricity is us or if it’s brought out because it’s the danger of doing this in the middle of a work-day, but it’s so exciting and I am loving every minute of it. The Bitch would die if she knew!
I let go of thoughts of her and of everything as his hands press into my back. Just like I need it, he massages under my shoulder blades, works his way down my spine to relieve a lifetime’s worth of tension while his tongue licks mine, deliciously. I tighten my grip on his shoulders, so broad and masculine. I can feel the muscles pulling and moving underneath his shirt. With a squeeze of my legs I draw him in closer until I feel his hardness pressing against me through the thin fabric of my rumpled dress. He is throbbing. These suit pants he’s wearing are not doing a good job of hiding the sweet promise of his size now that he’s full.
“You put your panties back on,” he says into my ear, like I’ve been a bad girl. I giggle and nod as he shakes his head tsk tsk tsk. The pressure of his fingers as he massages my ass is amazing, and our joined mouths are feverishly communicating how great this feels. It feels soooo great. He uses all the pressure points that make me go limp. I let go of his mouth and lean back into the sensuality of his slow-moving massage, pressing my breasts into his chest, my neck thrown back. I let my eyes close to enjoy it. My breathing comes heavier as he moves down and molds my upper thighs where they meet my torso, pushing and pulling my legs like their his clay. But he doesn’t touch my pussy yet. Instead, he gnaws on my neck, nibbling a
nd biting and applying pressure in the yummiest way.
It almost hurts. There’s a mixture of pleasure, pain and something else… Our bodies are begging to join. I can feel it, and I don’t want to wait. The unbearable torment of impatience is demanding all of my attention. I push myself against the hardness of his cock. Our bodies sway as we suck on each other’s lips, pull at each other, press ourselves onto the other. The pressure builds inside of me. I feel the pulse between my legs as my arousal builds for him. I can’t let him do to me, what he did yesterday. I can’t let him leave me wanting him, again. Fuck no. He’s not going to do that again. I’m not that type of girl. I’m the type of girl who follows this urge once I’ve come this far. I’m not a tease and he’d better not be one either. The clothing between us is driving my body insane.
I want him. Inside of me. Filling me. Now.
“I can’t stand it, James. Fuck me. Please. I am begging you. Please fuck me.”
I open my eyes, imploring him. I know I am begging for it, almost ordering him to do it and I don’t care. I need him to see how desperate I am for him, tell him that it’s him that is doing this to me so he knows he’s the man…. and he’s wanted. But I don’t have to worry because he’s right there with me, engorged and enflamed past the ability to stop. I can see fire light his eyes up when I ask for it.
“You want it? You asked for it.” He slides his right hand underneath my dress, around and underneath my panties. I push my hips up so he can get at me easily. Touch me. I want to scream. Taste me, stroke me, fuck me. All of it. My body is acting on her own, now. I am opened and very, very wet. My clit is practically humming. When he touches me with the tip of his finger I feel a callous and it feels like a cat’s tongue. I’m guessing he plays the guitar in his spare time because I dated a musician once and this is what it felt like. The ridges of the callous is enough to send me over the edge, rough enough to stimulate me more than a smooth finger could. So that’s what I felt through my panties, yesterday. This is what made his touch feel extra wonderful.
I move on his hand, rubbing myself against it. I follow the feelings inside of me, increasing the pressure as I rub back and forth on him. He watches me, smiling, loving how I’m riding his hand. He bends a finger, a thumb, all of them, at just the right moments giving me an all consuming and agonizingly sweet escalation of desire. I lean in toward him and he takes my mouth in his again, the taste of him so good in my mouth. I moan, really quiet so that only he can hear me, and this is what does it. This moan…
“I was going to wait, make you cum like this, but I have to fuck you Jessica,” he says breathlessly into my mouth. I hold onto the sink as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his zipper, and drops both his pants and his boxer briefs (so hot).
“I was just about to cum,” I mock complain. I was but this is better. Still, I hate stopping because seriously I was on the edge and I am throbbing more than he is.
“Good. Hold onto that.” With both hands he reaches down and yanks off my panties, tosses them over his shoulder to get rid of them. I see his cock standing straight up, crimson silky and beautiful. He pulls out a condom and whips it on so fast that I mouth the word “Woah.”
Someone knocks on the door and he grins at me. Are you fucking kidding me right now? First Prizzi interrupting and now whoever the fuck is on the other side of the door? Man, I must have a thing for public places.
With the help of his right hand, still glistening, he enters me easily and with delightful force. A moan threatens to tear through me. He muffles any chance of noise by latching his mouth hard onto mine as he pushes deep, deep, inside of me. He plunges his tongue into my mouth in time with the drilling his cock is giving me, and the double entry is insane. Hard deep thrusts fill me again and again. I can feel the inner walls of my pussy expand by his force, feel the vibration of my clit as this position helps hit it in just the right angle. His hips bend down and he’s moving them in moves I thought only hip-hop dancers could do; the kind of bam, mmmm, bam bam bam thing. So good.
It takes me no time at all for the blood in my body to rush down to fill my lips, my pussy, my little bean. The orgasm rips through my senses with his hip moves; intense, huge and unprecedented. When I want to scream, he bites my lips and makes me quiet. When I want to moan, he shoves his delicious tongue inside my mouth and tickles my own tongue with it. As I cum poised on the sink, he elongates my thrill by deepening his penetration and holding it there, moving it around with his hips, maintaining the depth that it’s buried in me. I grip onto his shoulders and collapse. I can’t take any more. He bites my lips to stop me from screaming. When he comes, jerking and halting and pulsing, with me, his orgasm sends me through another wave of sweet deep contractions. He exhales, his gorgeous head bending back as he stretches himself, pressing up into me with one final thrust. Oh yes.
As soon as it’s over – and I mean at the very instant it’s over – we hear a key in the door.
“Hang on! I’m in here!” James hurriedly yells to whoever’s got keys to the bathroom. Must be the security guy? We’re about to find out!
James grabs my panties and tosses them to me. In his haste, he hits me in the face with them, which he doesn’t see because he’s busy removing the condom and flushing it. So glamorous, this moment. I stifle a laugh and put them on, tingling like mad. I love this feeling! It’s like there’s pressure or something… but from what? From the beating I just took? Yes, that probably it. Amazing.
I look at the mirror and my mouth is a mess! Lipstick smeared everywhere. Plus, it’s raw-looking since he was so rough with me. Which I loved. But how the hell am I going to justify this? I loud-whisper to him, “Look at my mouth!” Mid belt buckling, he looks up and makes a face that says I look crazy-town. Not good.
“Hang on!” he yells through the door. He comes over, snatches a paper towel from the dispenser, runs warm water over it and drips a couple drops of soap, to help. Then he washes my face. I am flabbergasted by his cleaning me, like this. It’s so sweet. But I don’t dare say anything. I just stand there, looking helpless (and probably adorable) and let him clean me up. His beautiful face so close to mine is frowning with concentration until he finally feels that he has succeeded in making me presentable. “I think it’s better now,” he says.
I turn and look and it’s better, but it’s not great. It will have to do. “I have some makeup in my bag upstairs. I can fix it.”
“Can you fix the damage you just did to my cock?” he smiles. Soooo handsome! Damn.
“Let me give it a shot,” I throw back. He kisses me quickly and we separate to leave.
How is this going to work? We look to each other and he shrugs, inhales, and opens the door, come what may. Standing on the other side is… no one. No one is there. We look at each other and wonder what happened. We had heard voices, keys, etc… Where did they go? The security guard pops up all of a sudden from behind the desk, having dropped something on the floor, I guess. He looks over - but before he does - I turn to face James, as if I just walked up to him.
“Finally! I’ve been waiting for the bathroom!” I say, loud enough for the entire huge lobby to hear.
“Sorry. All yours now,” James smiles, shaking his head.
“Thanks.” I look to the security guy and call over, “It’s okay! He’s out now. Finally, right? Thank you!” He looks confused and nods slowly. I walk into the bathroom and just as I’m about to shut it, James stops me.
“I forgot my phone,” he says in a nice normal voice. As he walks past me and I hold the door, waiting, I hear him whisper, “What are you doing tonight?”
“I have plans with my girlfriends,” I mumble for his ears only.
His voice is barely audible as he passes by on his way out. “Cancel them,” he says, and then louder, “Sorry. Thanks.” He walks to the elevator and doesn’t wait for an answer.
The security guy gave up looking at us, but I still feel the need to go inside the bathroom like he’ll know if I don’t. Guilty conscience, t
hat’s me.
Inside, I shut the door and lean on it.
What. Just. Happened.
When I finally get back to my desk, there is a note on it, folded and tucked under my keyboard, with a little corner sticking out. I look to The Bitch’s office and her door is still closed. She’s probably in there drinking to forget. I sit down on my swivel chair a little too quickly, spin a bit, pull out the note and open it to find there’s a phone number on it. Am I supposed to call him? I don’t call men. I just don’t. I stand up and look around; Of course he’s not there. Amy sees me and waves.
“Feeling better?” she asks, looking concerned.
“Much.” I slide back down out of sight and text Amber, for backup. Our textersation goes exactly like this...
Me: Have started a work fling. Hot. Very hot. He wants me to call him. What do I do?
Amber: Do NOT have a work fling. Do not call him!
Me: Okay. Wait. Don’t call, because I shouldn’t have a work fling?
Amber: No. Never call a guy. Don’t do it. Do NOT.
Me: Okay.
Amber: And don’t have a work fling.
Me: Okay.
Amber: Oh…Nicole texted. Said we’re going out tonight. J
(pause)
Me: Have to reschedule.
Oops.
Same Day - After Work
I am so amped up that I hit my favorite yoga class to relax, and let it all go. People can bitch about yoga all they want – the people who don’t do it, I mean – but the truth is, every time I’m in a class and I’m in some posture stretching out my chi or whatever, I get a little turned on. I can’t help it. I’m bent over this way or that and some part of my body is releasing all the stress. My energy opens up and I’m balanced in ways my brain can’t understand. So why try to understand? Just go with it. I don’t tell anyone it turns me on, though. Because they’d think I’m oversexed or look at me like they don’t know what I’m talking about, and get jealous - or both.
I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) Page 6