Pistol

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Pistol Page 9

by Max Henry


  Brown dress shoes came into view, and Steph ground to a halt. “Mr Daniels,” she choked out.

  “Stephanie. I didn’t know we welcomed friends into the office on a casual basis?”

  Fire swept over her flesh. “Um, no. It was important.”

  “It better be if your boyfriend here can’t wait until lunch-time.”

  She caught the chuckle behind her, and blushed harder. “He’s not my—”

  “Whatever he is,” Greg continued with an air of supremacy. “I would prefer you kept social engagements out of the work place.”

  “Look, fella.” Pete stepped around her, and placed a hand on Steph’s hip to push her behind him. “You can’t tell me that ya sit in your cushy office all day doin’ only work. Should we go take a look at ya browser history and see what it tells us?”

  Greg frowned. Steph cringed.

  “Surely ya can spare the lady ten minutes?”

  Greg flicked his gaze between them, clearly pissed. “Five.”

  “Five it is, then.” Pete stuck his hand out, with a cocky smile plastered on his sinful mouth.

  Begrudgingly, Greg accepted, and shook his hand briskly. “I’ll be watching for you to leave.”

  “I’ll be sure to blow ya a kiss on me way out.”

  Steph buried her face in her hands, and moaned. The idiot would have her fired on her last day in this office if he wasn’t careful.

  Greg moved around Pete, and stopped to point a finger at Steph. “One time only, Miss Drake. One time.”

  “Yes, Mr Daniels,” she muttered as she avoided his stare.

  Pete took her by the hand and gave her a tug. “Come on, Love. We’ve got four minutes to get this done, and ya know I can’t rush when it comes to you.”

  Oh, no he didn’t. Steph looked to Cass, mortified as the girl let go of a snicker. Steph could have happily crawled under the nearest desk, and died. She looked pleadingly at Pete, and he smiled widely back at her. The prick actually enjoyed embarrassing her. She scowled, and walked past him to the staffroom which was centrally located in the offices. The small, square room had no windows, and therefore offered no natural light. Staff lockers lined the right wall, a small kitchenette across the back. Steph led Pete in, and set off the motion-sensor lights. She turned to address the bastard as he shut the door behind them. Of course—they were the only two in the room.

  “What the hell do you think you were—”

  He wrenched her forward by her wrist, and their bodies collided as his warm lips crashed down on hers. A low growl resonated from the back of his throat, and he caressed her tongue with his. Steph softened to his grasp, and let out a small whimper as he reached around and squeezed her butt. He drew back, and licked the corner of his mouth whilst his eyes held her in a hooded gaze.

  “Have ya thought about what I said the other night?” His eyes searched her face as he waited.

  “That I’m ‘just like the rest’? Besides, it wasn’t the other night; you’ve ignored me for a week.”

  “I wanted ya to have time to think.”

  “About what? How you treat me like a damn rag-doll? Tossing me aside when you’ve had your play time?”

  He chuckled, and stroked the side of her face. “Admit it, Love. Ya live for those moments. Yer body begs for it.”

  Heat flamed her face as Pete leant in and drew an earlobe into his mouth. “This isn’t the best place to—”

  He cut her off once more with a finger to her lips. Pete grasped her by the waist, and guided her with him as he backed into the door to make them a human blockade. “You’ve got three minutes left.” He reached down and flicked his belt open. “Make it good.”

  She stepped back and stared with her jaw slack as he undid his fly. His eyes crinkled at the corners with sheer amusement as he nodded toward his crotch, then flicked his gaze from her face, to himself, and back. With the presumption she would co-operate, he eased onto the door, and laced his hands behind his head.

  Steph crossed her arms high on her chest—stunned at the gall he had to make such a suggestion, but more disturbingly, aroused as well. “You have got to be fucking kidding.”

  A cruel smirk tugged at his lips. “Stop wastin’ time, Cutie. And don’t lie to me by sayin’ ya don’t want to; I can see it in yer eyes.” He leant his head back, and closed his eyes. “You’ve got two and a half minutes.”

  Heat plumed behind her ears as she looked him over. He stood so damn carefree against the door, and sexy as hell, too. You can’t be serious. Her conscience screamed sense at her, but Steph quashed it. She leant toward him, and then paused. What if they were caught? What if Greg had security cameras in here? You idiot! Her eyes swept the four corners of the room, and the nerves which flew about in her stomach eased somewhat at the absence of any noticeable lenses. She returned her focus to the arrogantly, delicious man before her.

  “What did you come here for? Surely not to do this?” She ran her bottom lip through her teeth as she waited on the answer.

  His eyes locked to the movement. “Would ya like it if I had?”

  “No,” she snapped. “It’s ... wrong.”

  “Then no,” he said. “I didn’t.”

  She eyed him for a moment, and hoped he would say something else. But he simply kept her firmly in his steely sights.

  “Two,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  What the hell.

  Steph fell to her knees before him, and shook her head at what she was about to do. She took the top of his jeans in hand, and pushed them down his hips so all that remained between her and his request were a pair of black, fitted boxers. She screwed her eyes shut, and exhaled heavily.

  This was it, the precipice. What she did now set the foundations for what he could push her to do. Yes, she’d played with herself before him a fortnight ago, but that was different. She was in the relative privacy of her home then. Now? Now she was at work.

  It’s a room. That’s all it is. And he’s a man, and you’re a woman. Do what you’re created for.

  She opened her eyes, and laid her palm over the bulge in his boxers, pleasantly surprised at how hard he already was. Perhaps the thought of being caught excited him? Maybe he liked to be watched? Maybe I like to be watched? Her mind boggled. She slipped her hand up, and curled her fingers over the waistband. Steph tugged it down to let him fall forth. Pete groaned, and settled into the door further.

  Her mind blanked, and her gaze became a vacant stare. What on earth was she doing? What the hell was wrong with her? Here she was, about to give the most arrogant ass of a man she had ever met, a blowjob—in her staffroom. Had she literally lost her marbles? Had the fumes of photocopier toner finally got to her? Because surely, she had to be high to seriously consider doing what she had planned.

  One way to find out.

  Steph gently wrapped her fingers about him—so hard, so thick—and made slow, even strokes. He hummed above her, and naturally her pace quickened. Still in a daze, she watched as her fingers slid up and down, around and over. On impulse, Steph shot forward and ran her tongue up the length of his arousal. She closed her eyes at the sweet, salty taste, and closed her lips over the tip. Complete awareness returned to her like a slap to the side of the head. She was at work ... in the staffroom ... with her mouth over him.

  Her heartbeat fluttered, and warmth built between her legs.

  “Fuck,” Pete whispered through a strained breath.

  His pleasure at what she did for him spurred her on. She was eager to hear his bliss, his enjoyment of what she could do. How perfect it would be if he was to beg. Steph continued to stroke the base of his cock as she swirled her tongue over the top. Her lips clamped over the shaft, and she drew her breath in to create a vacuum as she pulled free.

  Pete literally growled.

  I hope like hell nobody heard that.

  Still, she didn’t consider stopping. She repeated the action; his hips ever so slightly rose with each draw of her lips off his hard length. She played
with him, toyed with him, and brought him to the brink. No way could she deny that a blowjob in her workplace had her turned on from the danger of it all, but this was about payback. Steph dragged out her tease until he caved.

  He begged.

  “Oh, Cutie. Just fuckin’ suck it out of me. Jesus, that’s good,” he hissed in hushed tones.

  She increased her pace, and her arousal hummed with every quiet moan he made. Certain he was on the edge, she abruptly stopped. Steph stood before him, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; the exact same way he had. His eyes darkened with need as she took a step back.

  “What the fuck are ya doin’?”

  Steph tapped her wrist. “Times up.”

  A smile spread over his face. “Ya little tease.”

  She grinned happily. How’d you like that? Huh?

  “But you’re wrong, Cutie.” He lunged out, and caught her by the hip. “There’s still thirty seconds to go.”

  Pete spun her around him, and pinned her face-first to the door with his body—hot and hard. Everybody had to hear that. Thank Christ I’m about to transfer. Steph sighed, aware she should fight him, and tell him how wrong this was, but her body betrayed her and arched against the pressure his hips placed on her backside.

  “See, Love,” he whispered in her ear. “Ya love it.”

  She gasped as his hand wrenched her knee-length skirt to her waist. His fingers found their way to the crotch of her panties, and tucked the fabric aside. Gently, he stroked his fingertips along her swollen folds, and drew a whimper from her.

  “How bad ya want me?” His tone demanded an answer.

  “Bad,” she breathed.

  “Yeah?” The tip of his erection nudged her sensitive flesh. Steph sucked in a sharp breath. “This what ya want?”

  She nodded, too breathless to speak.

  He gave her enough pressure to gently ease her apart, his arousal slick against her own. “Tell me again, Cutie. What should I do?”

  Steph couldn’t believe how effortlessly the words came from her mouth. “Fuck me hard, Pete. Now,” she whispered.

  Immediately he was gone. A cold breeze shocked her warmth where he once was. She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows pulled together. “How come …?”

  He grinned, a full devil-come-hither smile. “Know who you’re playing, Love.” He held her confused stare as he drew his pants up and re-buckled his belt. “See ya after work. Take it ya haven’t moved yet?”

  She shook her head violently, and then set about righting her skirt. Damn. She’d need to visit the ladies before she could show her face in the office again. Her cheeks flushed more than the last time she’d attempted to go for a run.

  “I’ll see meself out.” He stroked the side of her face, down her neck, and to the valley of her breasts. “Behave while I’m gone, will ya?”

  Yet again, she stood flabbergasted as he simply left. Surely she had to qualify for some sort of a degree in mind-fuckery by now? Seemed it happened on a regular enough basis where Pete was concerned.

  Steph ran a shaky hand through her hair, and licked her lips.

  Salty.

  Pete caught the eye of the curly blonde he recognised from the bar, and smiled. She returned the expression, but her eyebrows twitched enough that he knew she was suspicious of him.

  Jesus—he was suspicious of himself.

  The incredible satiny-smooth texture of Steph’s lips on him nearly caused him to lose himself, to forget where he was. But he pulled himself back in time. Too close. Far too close. What could have happened if he hadn’t? No need to dwell on things that weren’t. He’d saved the situation, reminded her who was boss in this game. Pete chuckled to himself as the receptionist scowled at him pass through the foyer. He tossed his hand up—middle finger raised—and stepped out into the bright sunshine of another fucking rosy day.

  Fuck nature.

  He drew his hand over the slight stubble on his jaw, and fell back into the moment they shared. Thank Christ he’d had the foresight to pin his hands behind his head, because the way her dark hair looked as it slid over the job she gave him—like a dark cloud that crossed a beautiful eclipse—he wanted to grab a fistful of her locks and drive himself deep into her hot, little mouth.

  Get yourself together, ya gob-shite.

  How had he let it get like this? How the fuck had she got under his skin so easily? The woman was a damn leech; invasive and draining. All he wanted from her was the chance at being understood. A chance at a woman who could level him out, make him act normal. But Jesus, this one made him fuckin’ worse.

  Space. He needed space.

  Why had he said he would see her tonight? He was like a junkie who walked out of the hospital after an over-dose to look for the next hit. The habit had to go. He needed to nip it in the bud—even if she could be his match. The woman was dangerous, a Pandora’s Box of sexual bliss. She made him think with the wrong brain, and that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let her stay. Maybe the world had thrown him a big wake-up call when fate decided she was going to move away? Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise? The separation he wasn’t strong enough to do on his own, because Lord knows he wanted her mouth on him again—right now. Public streets and all.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, double shit.

  Pete dropped his head back on his shoulders, and squinted into the glaring sun. He’d visit tonight, like he’d promised, but only to tell her he couldn’t keep her on. Why did such a sudden sickness take him over when he thought that? He knew it too well—regret, apprehension. He didn’t want to let her go. He simply had to. He needed to drop her for the sake of his health.

  Right now wasn’t the time to start into a self-indulgent relationship.

  Relationship—huh.

  No. He needed focus. Especially when shit was about to get as fuckin’ real as it could get.

  ****

  The lights spilt a soft creamy glow over the walkway as he approached. Had she thought he would turn up? Or had she hoped he lied? Pete stopped outside the plain black door to her unit, and drew a breath to compose himself.

  He needed to remain cool, distant, and unaffected—no matter what she did to unnerve him.

  Not that it usually took much.

  He lifted his hand, and knocked. Small scuffs were audible from the other side, but no shadows played across the low light to indicate close movement. The lock on the door clicked, and it opened, slowly, but past the limit of a chain. She drew it wide, and greeted him with a smile.

  He stared, and inwardly screamed at himself for being this deep already. Show no emotion. Show. No. Emotion.

  Steph stood in radiant beauty; the lamp-light cast an enticing glow over the out-fit she wore —if he could call it that. Her perfect curves were draped in another oversized t-shirt; the large neck dropped over one shoulder to reveal the tattoo he knew she had already, and more. She didn’t wear anything underneath it. Lord have mercy.

  Pete swallowed hard, and willed all the blood from his groin back into his head.

  “Well?” She crossed her slender ankles as she leant into the door. “Are you coming in?”

  He raked his gaze over her body; the t-shirt had lifted on the opposite side she leant on, and exposed smooth, creamy skin on her upper thigh.

  Fuck. I’m fucked.

  He managed a shrug, and mentally patted himself on the back for not drooling. “I don’t think I need to.”

  She stuck her head out the door, and checked both ways. “You want me to come out there?” Her eyebrow rose, as did a corner of her velvety lips.

  A shiver ran down his spine. Damn, he wanted to bite those lips so fuckin’ hard.

  “I won’t stay long.” He cringed inside at how callous his tone came across. But it worked.

  She dropped her gaze, and drew her arms over herself. He’d crushed her. Like a squishy little bug under his boot.

  You’re an arsehole, O’Malley.

  “I only wanted to stop by and wish ya luck in yer ne
w place.”

  Her eyes lifted to his, and the unshed tears she tried so hard to hold back glistened in the glow of the distant street-light.

  “You’ve been fun. This—” he gestured between them, “—has been interestin’.”

  Her chin quivered, and she ducked her head to swipe at her face with a careless hand. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. I guess, um, I might see you round.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged again.

  “Thanks for stopping by.” She looked at him a last time, and the tears broke free as she took a step back to shut the door.

  He lifted his hand to stop her closing it, to say something, to ease the pain of his heart as it tore in two and became a cold, tar-covered abscess in his chest. But she was quicker. The door closed with a thud, and the light switched off shortly after. He stood at her door, and fought with himself. Should he knock again, or simply leave? After all, he’d done what he came to do—cut her free. So why did it feel so hollow? Why were his feet too heavy to move?

  Crickets chirped in the darkness, and a lonely bird chattered to itself from the tree on the driveway. Pete had stood so long that he had become a part of the scenery, imperceptible to the wildlife. He sighed, and drew a heavy hand through his hair then placed his palm on the door. There was nothing he could do to fix how it had panned out. Unless he miraculously managed to turn back time, he’d done it; hurt her enough that she would soon forget him.

  It was what he wanted. Or so he told himself.

  Steph slid down the wall of her lounge, and sat in a crumpled heap under the light-switch. Silent tears flowed at the idiot she’d made of herself. The entire lunch hour she had spoken with Cass, and convinced her somehow that Pete was worth a chance.

  “I don’t know,” Cass had sighed. “He seems a little ... careless at times.”

  Steph had knitted her brow, and folded another napkin into an origami crane. “I don’t know how to put it into words, but there’s something there. I feel safe with him.”

  Cass had leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess you’ve got to go with your gut, babe. But for heaven’s sake, if he so much as makes you feel uncomfortable, you damn well tell me. Okay?”

 

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