Perpetuate

by K. C. Ale

  Suzy’s frown is one of puzzlement. “Huh?”

  I send a wink. “We’re at lunch,” I murmur, leaning close so Brad can’t overhear. “What else does a man expect women to talk about on their off time? It’s not knitting.”

  Her teeth work her lip to keep from giggling. “You think so?” she models my earlier tone. “I’m more team Liam Hemsworth.”

  “Oh! How about both?” I cry excitedly. “At the same time.”

  Something clutters on the table behind me.

  Not able to contain the laughter, Suzy’s forehead drops on her arm, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

  I jolt when fingers brush my hip. A glimpse over my shoulder reveals Brad mock scowling at me.

  “Mr. Hawkes,” I exclaim. Real housewives have nothing on my embellished drama. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  Dressed in his uniform of button shirt and killer slacks, he’s up and rounding the table. “Miss Warton? Lovely to see you here.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Are you having a pleasant day?”

  My lips twitch as Suzy jerks her head up to gawk at the CEO in alarm. “Pleasant indeed, Mr. Hawkes. Are you acquainted with Suzy?”

  His gaze lingers on me longer than customary before swerving to my friend. “Of course. Pleased to see you, Suzy.”

  Suzy is gaping at Brad with her mouth hanging. In lieu of snapping my fingers in her face, I prod her under the table.

  “Mr. Hawkes!” she squeaks and swallows visibly. “Hi.” Nervous throat clearing. “We were having lunch.”

  Brad has that look like he doesn’t know what to make of her. He gives up and turns back to me. “It’s a beautiful day. It’s good to see you out and about.” Dipping his head, he addresses, “Enjoy the rest of your lunch. Ladies.” It would have been more gallant if he’d spare a glance at my terrified companion.

  Nice ass, I decide as he turns to leave.

  When my attention returns to Suzy, it’s to discover she’s still gaping.

  “What?” I ask when she only gawks at me for a full minute. Did I have food on my teeth this whole time?

  “The way he looked at you,” she manages to sputter out. “The food yesterday…he’s totally crushing on you!”

  “Shhh!” An anxious peek around and I know every table in the vicinity heard. It seems everyone has paused, lunch forgotten, staring at us with blatant interest. “He’s just gracious, that’s all,” I attempt to dissuade her.

  Noticing my unease, Suzy takes in the onlookers. “Mr. Hawkes doesn’t come out here. Like, ever. And every one of these people know it. Why do you think they’ve been rubbernecking the whole time? Mr. Hawkes didn’t know who I was, only that I worked at HC at some capacity. As of yesterday, he called me Sue. He’s not gracious. He’s…” She gestures wildly for the right word. “He’s the CEO.”

  “Come on, Suzy, it’s not that big of a deal,” I hedge. Have we been the noontime show? I am going to kill Brad.

  “Not that big of a deal?” She tosses me a sympathetic look. “Gemma, I hate to tell you this, but you’re about to find out just how not big of a deal that was.”

  Twenty-four

  Brad

  Need to talk to you.

  A finger drum at my mouth, trying to cover my smirk. As usual, the CFO is droning on and on about the numbers. Jennifer is competent, but I wish she’d sum up the details rather than spend twenty minutes griping about what’s wrong with the world and all those in it, then another forty minutes bragging about how competent and hardworking she thinks she is.

  My phone vibrates with another text.

  The sooner the better.

  Gemma doesn’t have to spell it out for me to know she’s freaking out. It took less than a second for me to realize my being in the courtyard and stopping to chat with Gemma was going to start already busy tongues wagging. As innocuous as it was, the fact that I spent a few minutes of personal time with a young, attractive new employee was incentive enough.

  Perhaps I should have pretended I was out there to enjoy my lunch, but then, giving the woman that was occupying the table behind Gemma before I got there the monetary incentive to get lost was a big hint something was amiss.

  Mart cuts a curious look at me. He’s used to me ignoring my phone during a meeting. Under normal circumstances, I would, but I’m having way too much fun right now.

  “Everything okay, Mr. Hawkes?” Mart interrupts the blabbing CFO.

  Does Jennifer have an Off Button? “I need to take care of something urgent,” I impart and push to my feet. Jennifer looks disappointed to lose an audience member. “Give me a brief later.” That was to Mart. I haven’t got time for the other one.

  I’m tapping out a response before I’ve cleared the hallway.

  Meet me on the fifty-fifth floor. Now.

  Melissa is on the phone as I breeze by, but I can feel her eyes on me the few seconds it takes for an elevator to arrive. I don’t pay any attention to her.

  The fifty-fifth floor is less than a quarter occupied. It’s in the awkward stage of waiting on new team members. HC is growing, but finding good employees is a challenge. As a result, the large space is unusually calm, the fifteen or so staff on this floor all congregated on one side.

  I don’t bother seeking anyone out. It’s best if they don’t know I’m here.

  When I’m in the small conference room, I pull out my phone again.

  Head east bound towards the windows.

  Then turn left at the end of the corridor.

  Keep walking until you see the emergency exit.

  Do not open that door.

  Within seconds I hear the light padding of footsteps. Timing it just so, I throw open the door and yank her in.

  “What the—”

  I have a palm over her mouth and the door shut before Gemma can kick out at me. “Relax,” I soothe in her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

  “Whayoudong?” she mumbles against my hand. “Youcrsy?”

  I guess we have to work on her following instructions. “Come here, Miss Warton.” I lift her up with one arm around her middle, making sure to keep my hand over her mouth. It’s a good thing, because she squeaks louder than I like.

  “Hush,” I reprimand. “You want someone to hear you?”

  She instantly falls limp. The chances of one of the staff wandering to this end of the unused floor isn’t high, but she doesn’t know that.

  Excess chairs, desks, tables, and file cabinets are piled on one side near the window. Gemma is warm and soft against me, her back to my chest, trusting me to do with her as I see fit. Gingerly, I set her on her feet by a discarded table as far away from the door as possible and concealed behind a stack of other furniture. Her hair is up in a ponytail today, and I take the opportunity to nuzzle her neck, drawing in her sweet scent and tasting her mounting pulse. My mouth grazes up to play with her earlobe.

  “I’m going to bend you over that table and fuck you from behind.”

  She shivers, throwing an arm up to fist my hair.

  We haven’t embarked on that particular favorite of mine. I didn’t think Gemma was ready, and if I’m completely honest with myself, I like gazing at her striking face too much.

  Slowly, I lower my hand from her mouth. “Good girl,” I murmur when she remains quiet. My hands roam freely over her stomach to her tits, kneading those perfect mounds. “You’re wearing a bra, Miss Warton,” I observe.

  She tilts her head towards me. “It’s appropriate office attire, Mr. Hawkes.”

  “Hm…”

  She’s making me work for it. Fine. Slipping a hand beneath her blouse, I cup at a cotton covered breast before plunging in for a hot handful.

  My mouth can’t help but latch onto hers. My tongue dives in crudely, carnally, letting her know exactly why I summoned her.

  Then I’m lifting her skirt, my hand finding its forever home in her panties. She’s dripping onto my fingers, frantic breaths panting against my mouth. I go to town on her, running a fi
ngertip on that pretty flesh she likes to tease me with day and night. I stroke her the way I know she loves, pinching her nipple and clit at the same time. She tears her mouth away, gasping. Her head falls back on my shoulder, lids squeezed tight to try to reign it in.

  Not possible. Not Gemma.

  Her release is a juddering, teeth-gritting moan. I swear I’ll have a bald spot where her tense fist is wrenching my hair.

  She’s still quaking when I curve her over the table, flipping her skirt to her waist. Her panties are soaked and need to be removed, so I do her the favor because I’m a considerate guy like that. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to walk around with wet panties. That just wouldn’t be comfortable.

  I make quick work of releasing my belt and pants, my own hands not entirely steady. That’s the unspeakable effect Gemma has on me. She was the one who came, yet I’m the one shattered from it.

  “Brad…” she puffs out, glancing back over her shoulder.

  Fuck. I love it when she calls my name. She only calls me Brad when we’re fucking. And I love her like this. Face flushed, damp hair sticking to her forehead, sated but eager to burst again.

  I wish we have the luxury of being completely naked. I would run my tongue up the curve of her spine and watch her tremor. “What is it, Gemmy?” My heart is sprinting, which explains why that came out breathless.

  “No condom. I don’t want anything between us.”

  “Nothing between us,” I agree. The pill she took last night should still be active, but I make a mental note to schedule an appointment for her for the regular.

  Positioning myself, I gradually ease into her. She’s drenched but so fucking tight, strained muscles squeezing and milking me like they crave what’s coming.

  The old table screeches each time I thrust into Gemma, cheering me on. I grasp her hips and do it again. And again. And again for I don’t know how long and don’t care. Sweat rivers down my temples and we’re both gasping for air.

  “Brad,” she cries. “Oh yeah. Right there. Right there.”

  My dick gets choked and I’m done for.

  I crumple on top of Gemma, my chest thumping furiously against her back. It takes a few chases of running air before I remember I’m a lot heavier than her. Pushing up, I take her with me, wrapping both my arms around the cheerfully wilted body.

  “Now you’re the one with a stupid grin on your face,” I tease, skimming my nose up her jaw.

  The lips pull wider. “Northing stupid about that grin, Hawkes.”

  “Agreed.” God, her skin is so soft. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  She wiggles her ass with me still inside her. “I like your communication method.”

  I have to pull out to smack her ass. “Behave.”

  Squirming in a different way, she peers down at her thighs. “Oh no, I’m leaking.”

  “Hold on.” I quickly right myself and dash to the restroom by the elevators for tissues. “Miss Warton,” I begin when I come back and start cleaning her. “I do believe you’re a mess.”

  “The aftermath isn’t very sexy.”

  On the contrary, it’s fucking hot to see a part of me running down her thigh. She still has several hours of work to go, and I wouldn’t want anyone else to notice, so I wipe her clean as best as I can.

  Speaking of work…

  “I have to leave soon for a groundbreaking ceremony. After that there’s a dinner meeting with a client. Carlson will be back to take you home.” Is that disappointment I see? A selfish part of me is thrilled at the thought that she might actually miss me. “It shouldn’t be too late.”

  She nods, staring down and running her hands over her rumpled clothing and effectively hiding her features. “Sure. I’ll be fine.”

  Pulling her close, I ask gently, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  She shakes her head, plastering on a smile lacking her usual radiance. “It’s not important. You’re busy. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

  I frown, studying her. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Twenty-five

  Gemma

  See me in my office.

  A sense of dread permeates my pores as I stare at the plain message on my screen. I hadn’t heard much from Todd Jansky this morning and ended up going over backlogs with Tiffani before going to lunch with Suzy. I was on the fifty-fifth floor for less than an hour, but if Mr. Jansky happened to look for me during that time, I might be in trouble. The message was sent about a half an hour ago, which means he’s been waiting for me to respond in one way or another for most of the time I was downstairs with Brad.

  I can’t very well disclose that I was with the CEO.

  God, I hope the scent of crazy sex isn’t clinging to me. I had to stop in the ladies’ room for a pantiliner, because my panties were steeped with both me and Brad. I can still feel him between my legs. I guess that’ll have to hold me over until late tonight. I hate that he has to work late again, but I get it.

  Smoothing my wrinkled skirt, I let Tiffani know I’ve been summoned and make my way to the operations manager’s office.

  His door is shut when I get there. I lift a hand but hesitate. If he has someone in there I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt. On the other hand, he did want to see me.

  I knock.

  “Come in.”

  He’s behind his desk. Alone.

  I take a few steps in but stop just behind the guest chairs. “You wanted to see me?”

  A brow arches. “That was a while ago, Gemma. Did I interrupt you?” he asks scathingly.

  “No, sir.” I don’t offer an excuse. I’m not quick enough, and I have a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

  His face tightens. “What are you working on?”

  “Tiffani was showing me the resource allocations and backlogs. I also helped organize the IT storage room, checked the expiration dates on the snacks in the main kitchen, and assisted clerical with the lunch orders for the meeting earlier today as you requested.”

  Impressed wouldn’t be how I’d describe his expression. It’s more of a glower.

  Deliberately, he scales his gaze lower, lingering on my chest before dipping to the crinkles on my skirt.

  My skin crawls with a hundred creepy creatures.

  Eyes up here, buddy.

  I want to tell him that, but I don’t because he’s my boss.

  “How are your Excel skills?” he asks out of the blue.

  Awkwardly, I jerk a shoulder. All I want to do is get out of this uncanny office. “Pretty good.”

  He wheels his chair back a few inches and gestures at his monitor. “Would you take a look at this formula? I’m trying to link it with the master sheet, but it’s not taking.”

  “Um… sure.”

  There’s not a lot of space to maneuver behind his desk, not with him seated there. He doesn’t seem inclined to give me more room, so I stop behind him to peer over his head at the screen.

  “Over here, Gemma. You need to get closer.” He indicates the compact spot between his chair and his desk that even Bull would have issues with. “You won’t be able to reach the mouse or keyboard from back there.”

  A glance assures me his office door is still ajar the way I left it. Granted, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of foot traffic outside of his office, but it’s better than being trapped in here.

  As carefully as I can, I make sure I don’t touch Mr. Jansky anywhere as I slither by. It’s not easy, since he doesn’t so much as shift to better accommodate the added body.

  The spreadsheet in front of me contains multiple worksheets. As I click through each cell, none of them appears to link to another. “Is there a column or row you want me to look at?” I ask without turning.

  That’s when fingers slide up my inner thigh.

  I leap and send the mouse flying. Immediately I whirl and slap his hand away.

  “Gemma, be still.” Mr. Jansky scolds like he didn’t just put his hand on me. “I’m only trying t
o help you. You had something stuck on you. See?” He holds up a tiny piece of tissue. “Feels damp,” he observes mildly.

  I want to laugh even though there’s absolutely nothing funny about it.

  Oh, that was from Mr. Hawkes.

  My blood is starting to boil, and I’ve about had it with this guy’s bullshit. As Brad observed, when my temper rises, I don’t wait for calm. “Next time, a simple, ‘Hey, there’s something on your leg,’ would suffice,” I bite out. “I might be new, but I’m perfectly familiar with workplace decorum.”

  “Calm down, Gemma. I was merely trying to help.”

  He’s smirking. The patronizing dickhead thinks it’s fun to harass me. Because my last name is Warton, or because I’m new? Does he do this with all his female staff?

  That’s when I see red.

  With my hands against the desk, I slam my foot on the seat of his chair right between his spread knees. And shove with all my might.

  The chair reels and spins noisily before crashing against the wall.

  “You fucking whore!”

  He’s off his seat but I’m faster. I’m already dashing through the door.

  “Pack your shit, Warton! You’re fired!”

  Only I don’t. I leave my things behind, not that I have much besides my purse. I just run out, away from that despicable man and that horrid office, taking the elevator to the lobby. I don’t have anything but the badge around my neck. No wallet. No phone.

  Belatedly I realize I’m shaking. Terrified. I don’t know why. I’m not hurt, but my heart is pounding right out of my chest. My legs wobble uncontrollably as I step out of the elevator. And my throat. It hurts. Not like when that asshole was trying to kill me. Burning for depleted oxygen.

  “Miss, are you alright?”

  I have a palm on a wall holding me up. How did that get there?

  Hands on my arms. Not the revolting ones but gentler, guiding me to a seat. I was on this same sofa not too long ago, doing my best to sneak into HC.