by Quinn, Taryn
He turned away from the window and studied his best friend, noting he’d already changed into black trousers and a disturbingly green sweater. They lived upstairs in separate wings, occasionally meeting in the kitchen or living room but mostly staying in their own spaces. Living and working together could get old fast, so they made sure to give each other a wide berth.
A memory from last summer—involving a curvaceous redhead and too much tequila—flitted into Des’s mind and he smiled. Well, most of the time.
“Does that smile mean you’ve come up with a plan? Finally?” Cole smoothed away an imaginary wrinkle in his slacks. “A guy’s nuts could shrivel up waiting for you to make a goddamn move.”
“Actually I was thinking about…” He paused. Shit, what was her name? Tracy? Stacy? “Redhead, triple Ds. Giggled too much.” Moaned even more, which hadn’t been half-bad.
“I remember.” Cole smiled fondly. “Casey. She was sweet. Very creative. Wonder if she’s available?”
“Doing a girl you’re not serious about at Christmas never turns out well. You know better, Warner.”
Cole stroked his cock through his trousers. “Maybe Daisy was my one true love. Or was it Lacey?”
Des snorted out a laugh and scraped a hand through his hair. He needed to take a shower. The girls would be back soon, and not long after, guests would start flowing through the doors as fast as the champagne. Already he could hear the caterers bustling from room to room. “You good to handle things while I run upstairs?”
“Oh, you’re not ready? Hard to tell, since those ratty-ass jeans have been your wardrobe for the past week.”
“Scoping out my ass again? I’m so flattered.” Des grinned and headed out of the office, humming one of the holiday tunes that had played earlier.
He took the back stairs three at a time, then scattered his clothes on the floor on his way into the bathroom. In record time, his cock was in his soapy hand, his forehead braced on the arm he folded against the tile wall. Images of Wendy played behind his closed eyes. Dancing when she didn’t know he was there, gyrating her hips in maddening circles, bouncing her breasts with each movement. Shiny pink lips tilting into a smile as she crooned into her makeshift microphone.
She was so motherfucking sexy.
Des sucked in a breath and tightened his grip, working himself viciously. He’d never squeeze his dick hard enough to erase the pictures stored in his head so he used them as fodder, dragging his hand up and down until his gasps mingled with the hiss of the scalding water.
He wrenched the water dial hotter, then hotter still. Soon his skin would flay right off his damn bones, and he’d still be here, jerking off with her sweet southern voice tormenting him. Just her accent reminded him of fucking. She could say “pass the paper clips” and he’d envision throwing her legs over his shoulders and sucking on her swollen clit.
I’ll be back shortly, y’all.
Christ. He could’ve come from just that.
As clouds of steam rose around him, he threw his head back, the hot stream of water stabbing his face and chest offering additional sensation. Groaning, he reached down and grabbed his heavy balls, rhythmically pumping, his breath puffing over the tiles until the long white ribbons of his release fountained into the cascading water.
He slumped against the wall, panting. Shuddering. It wasn’t enough. He needed her under him, her tight pussy wrapped around his cock. Her seductively prim and proper voice whispering in his ear, her long nails raking down his back. She’d be a scratcher, he just knew it.
Snatching his bottle of shampoo, he dumped way too much on his head and took out his frustration on his scalp. Even knowing it wasn’t going to happen—that it couldn’t—the resentment still cut deep.
Thirty minutes later, he was on his way back downstairs. He passed a couple in a clinch on the landing. They let out guilty laughter when he cleared his throat. “Already seeking out the corners, Edwards?” he asked the gray-haired man who shamelessly left his hand on his partner’s ass.
Gerald Edwards, esteemed attorney at law, had boffed every secretary he’d ever had. When he ran out of them, he poached the receptionists from the law office next door. And that was exactly the kind of guy Des refused to be. He didn’t sleep with his employees. Never had, never would.
“Great party, Des.” Gerald extended a hand.
Des shook Gerald’s hand and continued downstairs. Not his problem.
A crowd had already started to form in the lobby. The entrance area contained several groups of laughing couples, and the hallway to the conference room held even more. A few pairs danced to the music of Josh Groban, and he spotted a few clients hanging out by the punch bowl.
It would be a successful night. He could feel it.
A quick detour to his office yielded a tall cup of coffee, with the added bonus of two sugars. He normally drank his coffee black but with Wendy and her sultry jasmine perfume due to arrive at any moment, he couldn’t take the chance. Somehow the burst of sugar on his tongue helped distract him from scenting her like a wolf, and he wasn’t about to question his coping techniques. They’d helped him keep his dick in his pants for an entire year so they must be working.
An hour passed in a haze of conversation. It didn’t take him long to lose the button-down shirt he’d thrown over a T-shirt—yeah, he dressed casually, Cole could fucking suck it—though he dumped it off on his friend’s chair rather than his own. There was a heated argument going on in his office, and he figured he’d be nice and not interrupt since he and Cole were the dumbasses who’d neglected to lock their doors.
Fighting was one thing. But he’d make sure no bodily fluid was spilled in his office—unless it was his.
“You wish, Martin,” he muttered.
The drinks were flowing, the food was delicious, and the entire place smelled of cinnamon, hot cider, and pine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, some more than others. He’d come upon several couples under the mistletoe that Cole had insisted Van hang up near the exit, though Des knew his partner hoped to lure her there herself before the night ended. Unlike him, Cole had no qualms about sleeping with his assistants. Nothing had happened between Cole and Vanessa yet, but Cole would make his move soon.
Luckily, Des had a few more brain cells and knew where to draw the line.
Des did several loops of the party, determined to make sure all of his guests were having a good time. So many people grabbed him to talk that he didn’t notice Wendy’s absence right away. Cole and Van hadn’t seen her either.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Had something happened? It wasn’t like Wendy to blow off a work function. She was never anything less than diligent.
Just as he pulled out his cell to call her, a soft moan stopped him. His body tensed as he shifted direction.
Ah, Jesus, now there was someone in Cole’s office. That sealed it. Time to lock up.
Silently, he pushed the door inward. A lone figure sat at the desk, her back to him. It was a woman, judging from the hair tumbling down her shoulders. From her smell, that perfume that tormented his days and haunted his nights.
Then she turned, a flash of white clutched in one hand, the other buried beneath the voluminous skirt draped over the arms of Cole’s chair. He registered her sound of surprise, and the shock that emanated from her pores as she realized she’d been caught.
In Cole’s office. In his chair. With her hand between her legs.
Anger spurted hot and furious in Des’s chest, swamping the relief that she was okay. How could she be in this room, touching herself, when he’d had his dick on a chokechain for the past year? He’d done everything he could to keep his professional distance. For all he knew, all that time she’d wanted Cole.
Fucking Cole Warner.
He stepped farther into the room and slammed a hand against the door. It clattered shut. She gasped and leaped to her feet, the material from her hand fluttering to the floor.
They were ending this now.
&n
bsp; He stalked behind the desk and yanked up the shirt from the floor. His shirt. She’d been holding his shirt, in Cole’s office. Moaning. Touching her pussy, making his mouth water from the scent he could’ve picked up if he’d been surrounded by a dozen other women. Hers would’ve overridden them all.
Catching it again, he slitted his eyes. She stood next to Cole’s chair, her breathing audible in the small space between them. Her chest lifting and falling, her chin swiveling back and forth as if she were debating making a run for the door.
As if she thought she could get away from him.
She lurched forward and he moved, clamping a hand around her wrist. A startled squeak escaped her before he covered her mouth with his hand, hauling her back against him. “Just be quiet. Do you want everyone to know what you’ve been up to in here?” He allowed himself one illicit brush of his face against her hair. She smelled of her perfume and soap and alcohol, something rich and sweet. Bourbon perhaps, except they weren’t serving that at the party.
Maybe that explained everything. His stalwart secretary was drunk.
He dropped his hand from her mouth. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Let me go.” She yanked her arm but his grip held fast.
“I asked you a question, Wendy.”
“A couple of glasses.”
“How many?”
“Just two, before I came here.” She half-spun to face him, her face contorted with anger. “Let me go.”
“Why?” Ignoring the warning bells clanging in his brain, he gripped her chin. She was trembling faintly, from fury or nerves. Maybe both. “You never drink.”
“How do you know? You don’t know me. No one does.” She broke free of him and released a long, shaky sigh as if she were stunned she’d managed it. Most likely she didn’t realize he’d released her. “Just forget you saw me in here, okay, Des? Please.”
The plea in her voice struck deep inside him and he shut his eyes. Opening them, he let out a sigh of his own. “I can’t.” He pressed his thumb into the shallow indent in her chin. “Go find Cole. Bring him back here.”
“Oh God, I didn’t mean—”
“Just do it, Wendy.” He refused to allow himself to be swayed by her appeal. “Now.”
Three
She did as she was told.
Finding Cole wasn’t difficult. He was always at the center of the biggest group, and tonight was no exception. Feeling like an ashamed child, she slipped between people, murmuring excuses, and tapped his shoulder. He turned, a smile creasing his attractive face. He wasn’t as tempting as Des, but— Oh God, Des.
Cole’s denim blue eyes sobered. “Wen? What’s up?”
“Des asked me to come get you. He’s in your office.”
“Uh, all right. Just let me—”
“He said it needed to be now.”
She looked down at her red patent leather heels, bought especially for tonight. Dammit, she’d ruined everything by getting a little tipsy and acting stupid. She never should’ve come. Not after she’d gone home and seen her mom asleep on the couch. Her bout of walking pneumonia was kicking her ass, and every time she got sick, Wendy worried she’d lose her like she’d lost her dad. It wasn’t the first time the weight of her life had crashed down on her shoulders, but now she’d probably end up unemployed.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” she added when Cole didn’t move.
“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go see what the big boss man wants.” Hooking an arm around her shoulders, he gestured with his beer bottle to his crowd of sycophants. “We’ll be back soon. Office business, you know. Try not to get the cops called, ya hear?”
Laughter followed them as they slipped away from the masses and down the hall to the relative quiet near the back offices. That was why she’d escaped into Cole’s office in the first place. She’d only wanted to get back her composure. Then she’d found Des’s shirt. The smell of his aftershave had been all over the damn thing, and the collar had been wet from a recent shower. Before she’d even thought about it, her hand had been under her skirt, and God, she’d been so ready…
She knew better than to do something so crazy at work. If he’d just let her make it up to him, to them, she’d prove she hadn’t gone off the rails. Everyone was entitled to one sanity flight per year, right?
Cole opened his door and ushered her inside. The room was empty.
He frowned. “I thought you said Des wanted to see me here.”
“Yes. He told me to get you.“
Footsteps sounded behind them and she whirled, her eyes going wide as Des strode inside and shut the door. The alcohol was making her head a little fuzzy and nausea crept up her throat. Would they fire her?
Des flipped the lock in the doorknob as casually as if he locked the three of them in Cole’s office every day. “This won’t take long.”
“I didn’t mean—please, I swear I won’t do it again,“ she pleaded.
Cole set down his beer bottle with an audible clink. “Des, what’s this all about?”
“Go kneel behind the desk, Wendy. In front of Cole’s chair.”
She fumbled for one of her jingling earrings, fingers shaking. She’d just drank too much and was imagining this whole thing. “I—what?”
“You heard me.” Des gestured impatiently and something shimmery pink flashed in his hand. “Now.”
Okay, fine, she’d gone too far, but this was insane. She wasn’t five and Des wasn’t acting like himself. His blue-green eyes were wild in the moonlight coming through the blinds and his jaw clicked as he waited for her to move.
“What the hell is going on?” Cole sounded as bewildered as she felt.
“This is between me and my secretary, Warner.” Even in the shadowy darkness, the weight of Des’s stare burned her skin.
“Then why I am here?” Cole snapped.
“Because you’re the one who’s going to discipline her for touching herself in your chair.” Before she could pick her mouth up off the floor, Des stepped forward and wrapped his hand around her jaw, tilting her face up to his. His nostrils flared and she had the errant thought that he could smell her arousal, now trickling hotly onto her thighs. “You have the choice to leave now. If you do, this stops here. Otherwise go kneel where I told you.”
Her heartbeat reverberated in her ears. She couldn’t process what was happening, especially since she could still hear the animated voices and cheerful Christmas music just outside the door.
Out there, life was still normal. In here, nothing made sense.
“Des, you’re scaring her.” Cole laid a restraining hand on Des’s shoulder, which he promptly shook off. “Perhaps you misunderstood what you saw.”
“Did I?” Des asked quietly.
She wanted to lie so badly. To make all of this end. But part of her…didn’t. That part of her yearned to see what lurked behind door number two.
“No,” she whispered.
“You chose to do that in here, in Cole’s chair. You must’ve wanted to be caught. Was that your plan? For Cole to catch you?”
She averted her eyes to the floor and wished the thick carpet would just swallow her whole.
“Either leave or go kneel by his chair. It’s your choice, but you need to make it now, Wendy.” Her boss’s voice lashed against her flushed face like a whip. “We don’t have much time.”
“T-time for what?”
Cole snagged a handful of her hair, gently tipping her head back. “You heard the man. Either leave this office now or go kneel by my chair, love.”
“But my job—”
“This has nothing to do with that, and you know it.” Cole’s breath blew warmly over her temple and this time when she shivered, it wasn’t from fear. “Go.”
She went.
They walked around the desk, one on either side, and she cast her face down to keep from revealing the extent of her excitement. She hadn’t read every line in the employee manual, but she was pretty sure their behavior wasn’t following protocol.
Even so, she trusted them. They weren’t just her bosses, they were her friends. Somehow she’d unleashed this.
Des sat in the chair and spread his legs, drawing her gaze to the thick bulge at their apex. Even in the moonlight, his girth dried her throat. She wet her lips and startled at the needful sound he made.
“Yes. You’re going to use that tongue and those lips, you tease. But first, you’re going to take off your top for me.”
When she froze, Cole tugged up her shirt, making his own sound of approval as she willingly lifted her arms. She’d stopped thinking entirely. He set her top on his blotter and hooked his fingers under the straps of her bra, offering more praise while he drew them down her arms.
“Just push down the cups,” Des instructed.
She expected Cole to argue. Normally the two men shared a mutual balance of power, though technically Des owned a controlling interest of the business. But Cole didn’t hesitate. He flicked his fingers over her nipples and they peaked, seeking his caress. He stroked them without shame, first through the lacy cups then her bare flesh.
Both men made noises at the baring of her breasts, like animals circling bloody meat. “Pull those pretty tits up,” Des grated.
Cole tugged her breasts by her nipples, plumping them over the tight band of her bra. The swollen tips jutted outward, asking for their mouths. Begging for them.
Des showed her the items he’d hidden in his hands, pink clothespins with heavy teardrop crystals. She cried out in surprise as he clipped them with swift efficiency on her nipples.
Vision blurring, she stared down at the agile fingers now swirling around her areolas. Was this really happening? Did Des really have his hands on her breasts?
Her drenched sex said hell yes. So did her soaked thighs and quivering belly. She shifted forward on her knees, squeezing her legs together to try to get some friction where she needed it. “You stole those off the tree.”
Des’s trademark grin flashed just long enough to steal her breath. “It’s my tree. My ornaments.” He shifted the clips, their teeth scraping her stiff nipples, and she closed her eyes from the bite of pain the dangling crystals caused. “I knew you had beautiful tits. Tell me how wet your pussy is.”