Secret Desire

by Taylor, Susan D.

  “Haven’t you ever longed for something to the point of breaking a few rules? Just once?”

  He held his spine erect. He gripped the armrests. She noticed the fine hairs on his fingers, but no ring. She placed the toe of her shoe on the corner of his chair, her ankle only an inch away from his grasp. Her silk skirt lifted, sliding up her thighs, and his gaze shot to the revealed set of black lace Agent Provocateur garters.

  She licked her lips and unbuttoned a pearl button. He flared his nostrils ever so slightly. He stared at her fingers. She undid another button. He became a statue. A rather alluring, attentive one. She continued unbuttoning the rest of buttons. She didn’t open her shirt, hoping he’d notice her breasts were unhampered by a bra. The only sound in the room was their breathing.

  “Don’t stop now.”

  She opened her shirt, revealing ample cleavage. Her nipples hardened at the thought of his mouth teasing her skin.

  She rubbed her leg against his thumb. He touched her ankle, lightly at first, before running his fingers up the back of her calf. She pushed her hips forward, her skirt lifted further up and over her thighs.

  He made a low, primal sound, melting a reserve within her.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  Their eyes locked and she smiled. She traced a finger along the bottom of her lip. She stuck just the tip into her mouth and sucked, playfully removing any doubt of where this was going.

  “Hmm,” she whispered. “What do you want?”

  He closed his eyes and moved his hand over her knee. She went beyond merely teasing him to wanting to feel him deep inside her body.

  He returned his gaze to her face. He stood, pushed back her shirt all the way. “You’re one beautiful woman.”

  He shifted forward and touched between her thighs. The feel of him edging along her exposed skin ramped up her desire. He pushed aside her thong, drawing a gasp from her lips. She was really doing it—taking control of her desire, with a man who drove her wild despite barely knowing him. A tiny voice inside her wondered if that was really such a good idea. He flicked his thumb across her clit, releasing a tide of pleasure, and she drowned in longing, her inner voice silenced. A thrill beyond belief billowed up her legs.

  “Do you know I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you?” His voice was husky and seeped in desire.

  “Me?” She moaned. He flicked his fingers over and around the spot she craved him most.

  “Yeah, last year at the Christmas party across the room. It took me minutes to make it around the room and hell if you weren’t gone. I inquired about you.” He chuckled. “Heard you were only interested in one thing…the fast track. Nothing else.”

  “I’ve got other interests.”

  “I’d say not enough. I do know one thing. This is exactly what you need, isn’t it? A woman like you should be properly fucked at least once a day.”

  Her body buzzed with a solitary yearning to have him take control. If only she could let go of the reins, stop micromanaging her life.

  “Shut up and do it then.”

  He laughed and thrust his finger inside her. She leaned back on her elbows, bracing herself against the desk, and lifted her other foot to straddle the chair. He slid two of his fingers into her, curling and rubbing. He pressed and swirled his thumb, releasing shimmering sensations from between her legs.

  “Is this what you like?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Damn it, tell me.”

  “Yes, yes. I could ride your fingers all day. I’m going to come.” She tilted her head backward and gave into pleasure. He stood between her legs, fingering her, and she couldn’t hold back. She was about to climax.

  “Not yet.” He stopped.

  She clung to the desk, her G-spot so overstimulated her muscles clenched and unclenched. The sound of him unzipping his pants was all she needed to hear. She lifted her head, and he pushed her backward on the desk. He lifted her knees. He grazed his cock along her sensitized opening. She inhaled sharply and moaned.

  “My turn.” He pushed forward with one single, hard thrust and pulled back on her knees as he plunged deep inside her. She was ready for him when he slammed into her. He moved his hips, thrusting into her again and again as if fueled by unbridled lust. He hardened his lips into a jagged line. Then a thought slipped past her pleasure—would this moment become part of the rumor mill? She kept fighting the feelings of pleasure. What if this escapade discredited her? A fine time to reconsider her options. She closed her eyes, unable to dispel the thought that this would come back to haunt her. She was torn by wanting to give in to passion with the man she’d fantasized about for months and not knowing if her perfect fantasy might become an Achilles’ heel. She pressed her forehead against Thornton’s shoulder, digging her fingers into his arms. What she’d give to let go and let him deliver her into the realm of delicious sensation. For once she’d love to scream loud enough to bring the whole floor into her office.

  He stopped moving. She opened her eyes and took in his arched brow and his hands on her hips. She stared back at him, uncertain of what to do. He cupped her cheek, feathering his fingers along her jaw. “Hey, don’t overthink this. I’ve finally got you where I want you and I intend to show you how much I’ve wanted this moment.”

  She absorbed the heat pouring from his body, the expression in his eyes, and the curl of his beautiful mouth tempting her to take a chance. She might as well be standing on the ledge outside her office window for how hard her heart pounded.

  “Give yourself to me.” He leaned over her and kissed her long and deep, his hard, wet cock pushing at her mound. Now, any attempt at distraction was impossible. He’d brought her to the brink of ecstasy, and she wanted to let go, give in to desire. She reached down to touch him.

  “Shh, I’m in charge.” He laughed and gently flipped her onto her stomach.

  He pressed opened her thighs, and she came up onto her forearms. His cock moved between her legs. He took hold of her, pulling her hips back toward him, and he plunged back inside her.

  She moaned. She arched her bottom up against his body. His fierce expression flashed in her memory, but there was no use in fighting desire or the wicked lesson he was capably teaching her.

  She bobbed her head rhythmically to the slamming of him against her bottom. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Don’t come yet.” His voice was rough, hot, and demanding.

  “No?” She was on the cusp of unraveling. She gripped the desk and gave into a spasm of pleasure. “I can’t.”

  He pumped with greater force, as if used to taking what he wanted. He stopped, his breath ragged against her neck. He rubbed her buttocks. Cynthia barely held on to her refusal to explode. She wavered, slipping, wanting to give in to release as arousal overtook her, all the more potent with his cock poised, unmoving inside her.

  “I said to wait, didn’t I?” He withdrew his cock and without warning his hand slapped against her ass with a resounding whack, crisp and loud. Heat mixed with pain spread out over her bottom. He slapped one cheek again and again. Her buttock was on fire. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  He grabbed her hair, pins dropping onto the desk, flying onto the carpet, and he yanked, driving his rod back in her. She found no place to hide. He was forcing her to open, to let go and let him take care of her needs. He alternated between caressing her ass cheek to a hard-handed spank several more times until she lost count.

  “No more,” she said.

  “Quite right.”

  “Please.” The shocking sensation of pain exhausted the emotional walls she had erected.

  “Please what?” He chuckled. “How can I help you, Ms. Lewis?”

  “Fuck me, dammit. Just do it.”

  “As the lady wishes.”

  He took her again and reached around to stoke her clit as he thrust. She tilted her hips up and experienced titillating ripples of ecstasy as he pumped against her. He showed her it was far better to receive than to run the show. What a lesson…w
hat a teacher. She was freed by his control and unable to stop the mounting pleasure that lifted her so high, she had no choice but to free fall back down to Earth. She floated in the pleasure, and he continued to thrust his cock inside her.

  He hauled her against him with one final thrust. “My God, you’re sexy as hell.”

  She moaned in exhaustion, and he lowered himself onto her, his body a warm blanket. He kissed her neck before lifting up and off her. “You’ve a great ass. Sweet.” His lips were warm as he brushed them against the side of her bottom.

  Her body was lead. She pushed off the desk and pulled her skirt down. He had already zipped his trousers and was tucking in his shirt. As he straightened his tie, she walked to the mini-bar.

  “Water?” She lifted up a bottle.

  He nodded, and she returned with two. She uncapped and tilted her bottle, tapping his. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.” She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. “So exactly what does this mean?” She’d like more, like to ask about the chance of continuing to get to know each other, but expected him to go back to business as usual, dismiss this union, and discuss the complaint.

  He sunk into the chair. He rubbed his forehead and leaned his head back. He was still breathing heavy.

  “Truthfully, there wasn’t a complaint filed. I wanted to meet you and thought we might go out for drinks or dinner if I came down here on a ruse. Any chance of that happening?”

  She giggled but had enough sense not to admit she’d done the same thing for weeks.

  “Thornton, you know romance and seduction go hand in hand. Just because we enjoyed desert first doesn’t mean we can’t sample the other menu items.”

  His wicked smile returned. “And now I’m all the hungrier. How about a main course later?”

  “My schedule is open. Say eight o’clock?”

  He stood up and his eyes burned with a devilish gleam. “But next time I tell you not to come, you’d better mind me.” He got up and pulled her to him. He slammed his mouth down on her lips. He toyed her tongue with his, kissing her until she clung to his shoulders.

  She regained her breath. “If you have any more questions, you know where you can find me.”

  He released her. “Eight sharp.” He patted her bottom.

  She winked and winced a little as she took her seat, and then she returned back to the slush pile.

  Chapter Two

  Claire blinked. Her cell phone rang, breaking her concentration. It was early Sunday morning. She didn’t recognize the telephone number displayed, although the area code was from her hometown back in North Carolina.

  “Hello?” Claire’s mind lingered somewhere in her story.

  “Miss Robertson?” It was an unfamiliar voice.

  “Yes, this is Claire Robertson.” She stood and stretched. She rotated her neck from side to side.

  “Claire, this is Bob Chase. We went to school together.”

  “Yes…Bob. I remember you. How’s it going?”

  “Claire, I’m well. But I’m not calling about me.” He paused. Something in his tone made her ears prick. Her journalism skills were honed to focus upon rises and dips in voice modulation. This pattern said something serious—something bad. She shivered.

  “I wish there was an easier way. Claire, your parents were killed today. I’m very sorry.”

  “God, no. Please. What happened?” Her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor.

  “There was an accident. While they were coming back from church. They didn’t suffer. I’m sorry. I phoned you as soon as the sheriff called me.”

  He was mistaken and now she had to tell him. This was some terrible error. “I think you’ve got the wrong Claire. I don’t understand. Why were you notified?”

  “I represented them on some issues, including drawing up their will. You know how small Mill Spring is…Curtiss Howard was the responding officer. He was a year ahead of us in school. A friend of—”

  She cut him off. “Yes. I remember him.” Claire grasped at memories of school, of home, of her mom and dad. She closed her eyes.

  Time, the kitchen table, and this conversation receded. A faint buzzing grew louder inside her head. Fleeting thoughts. She didn’t know. Had she heard him correctly? Slowly, her brain made room for this news.

  “What should I do? I mean now?” Claire looked out the window, the city lights twinkled against the early morning sky. Inside, she felt numb. Her mind didn’t want to hear anymore.

  “Everything’s being taken care of. They were taken to Mill Spring Medical Center. Don’t worry about trying to make plans, most of it has already been decided. I’ll just need to go over their wishes with you and your sister.”

  Claire rested her head against her palm. She rubbed her brow, trying to make sense of this moment. She’d just spoken to her mom and dad. She could hear their voices, her mother’s questions, her father’s advice. They couldn’t be gone.

  “I understand.” She began to shake and wrapped her arm around her waist.

  “Do you want me to call your sister? I called you first.”

  “No, Bob, I’ll call her. Thank you. I’ll come back home. I just need a day to get away from here.”

  “I’m so sorry. Do you need a ride from the airport?”

  “I’m not certain. If I do, I’ve got your number. Thanks again.”

  Claire hung up. Something expanded in her chest. Something that dug in and didn’t want to let go. Was it grief? There were no tears ready to spill. No sobs. Nothing.

  She had to call her sister. It was nearly eleven on the East Coast. She stood up from her place on the floor. She picked up her smartphone, staring at the screen where Fran’s name and number were displayed. Her chest condensed, unwilling to expand further. She sipped small breaths.

  Before her on the table, the screensaver scrolled over her laptop. She tapped on the space bar and the screen lit up, displaying black typeface on an off-white page. Her words. No, she couldn’t hide there. Not now.

  She paced the length of the living room with her phone in hand. She stopped pacing as the past swept over her in dizzying hues.

  Memories of life back home always shredded her composure. The idea of her parents…absent…she couldn’t form the word. A lump grew in her throat, cutting off her breath. The thought of returning to Mill Spring to an empty home twisted and extended, taking up way too much space, until it was too painful and overwhelming to hold any longer. She exhaled sharply.

  She walked over to the window. She couldn’t freak out. She’d just go back to Mill Spring and do what needed to be done.

  Go. Do. Leave.

  Claire repeated the directions as she pressed her nose against the glass pane. Besides, Fran would be there and undoubtedly take control. She threw herself onto the sofa. The idea of going back unleashed a vortex of memories that swirled around her once more. Her throat constricted, making the act of breathing a chore.

  She strove for serene and calm images. She stretched out and folded her arms across her stomach. Claire imagined calm water, a cloudless azure sky. She tried to feel the warmth of sunlight. A difficult feat considering that it was drizzling outside and the apartment was damp. A chill penetrated her sweatshirt; she shuddered and opened her eyes. So much for positive thinking.

  Claire massaged her forehead and scalp, trying to soothe way the wave of tension that threatened to turn into a nasty migraine. She closed her eyes again. She had to let go…think about the meadows back home…most likely golden from the sun…his deep laugh filling the air.

  Her eyes flew open. She steadied herself with a long, deep inhalation followed by another until the image of the Dustin faded. She dug her nails into her palm. She wouldn’t give in to thinking about him. His image faded, slipping away into gray mist.

  Trying to face going home without losing out to an anxiety attack was clearly next to impossible. Who was she fooling? Just last month her parents had relayed the unsettling news that Dustin had returned after doing so well.
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  It was a simple fact, not difficult at all. He was back. What did it matter?

  But Dustin Murray had not just moved back, he’d moved right next door to her parents.

  Claire sucked in a deep breath trying to dispel the image of Dustin, the man whom she once trusted only to have him break her heart.

  She must stop. If she continued to think about him she’d be doomed. This had to be some sort of displacement where she wasn’t dealing with her grief. She wouldn’t use another, older heartbreak to avoid coming to terms with the sadness that she had yet to feel. This was nothing more than textbook Elisabeth Kübler-Ross avoidance.

  She dialed Fran’s number, wondering how many minutes she’d have to spend watching Dustin and her sister becoming reacquainted.

  “Hello, Fran?” It was her sister’s voice mail. She had no words ready. “Oh, Frannie, this is Claire. Call me back. It’s urgent.”

  She tossed the phone on table. There was no way any of this was going to be easy. She needed a to-do list. Perhaps she’d do the smart thing and get a hotel. There was no shame in avoidance.

  Damn, she’d perfected a stealth ability to move unseen in life and in her writing. Why should going back home be any different? Oh, yeah, the feeling of having her chest ripped open the last time she’d seen Dustin and trusted him with her heart.