by Alex Wolf
His favorite thing to do is bring me to the edge of release then yank me back, over and over.
“Gonna come for me, my dirty little office slut?”
I roll my eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed, but my body betrays me, trembling under his touch. Truth is I would kick his smirking ass if he said anything like that to me anywhere else. But when he’s buried inside me, there’s something about it that drives me insane.
“Less talking, please.”
“Keep mouthing off and I won’t let you come at all.”
“I can get myself off.”
Deacon shakes his head and slides a hand up until it’s wrapped around my throat.
My eyes widen.
Deacon smirks. “Not like I can.”
I can’t argue with him, because he’s telling the truth.
Right when I start to mouth something back at him, he shoves in deep and hits my spot just right. I have no earthly clue how this man knows how to push my buttons the way he does.
My walls squeeze around him, craving more. I squirm on the counter, a slave to his touch.
Grabbing a fistful of my hair with his free hand, he growls his words. “Not running that mouth, now. Are you?”
“You like my mouth when your dick’s in it.”
His eyes roll back for a second, then land on mine. “Fuck, woman.”
“That’s what you need to do, because we’re almost out of time.”
The cocky bastard slips out of me, yanks my panties down, drops to his knees, and pushes my legs farther apart. I know he does it just because I told him to hurry.
Deacon moves in, flicking his wicked tongue across my clit. “I’ll fuck you when I’m damn good and ready.”
I rake my nails through his hair. His confidence is off-the-charts hot, but he needs to take care of business. People will come looking for us soon.
Finally, after teasing me for what seems like an eternity, Deacon lines up with my entrance.
My fingernails bite into his sculpted ass as he slides the head over my clit.
“This what you want?” He grins down at me and eases in.
My eyes roll back. When I’m with Deacon all my worries seem to fade away. Maybe it’s why I continue to do this—have sex with him in random places around the office. He gives me an escape I can’t get anywhere else. Believe me, I’ve tried.
I’ve never been this girl. The girl who wears tight skirts because she knows it turns a man on, but I morph into a different person around him.
His thighs smack into my ass. “If you’re staring off into space, I’m not fucking you right.”
“No, you’re perfect. Don’t stop.” I gasp when he draws out and slams back in harder.
Gripping my hips, Deacon increases the tempo until my mind is nothing but a blur. Thrusting in and out harder and faster, he clearly has his own agenda now, and I happily race him to the finish line. My head bounces off the cabinet behind me, but I don’t care. I ride the wave of pleasure coursing through my body.
His stormy eyes sear into me. His stare feels way too intimate for our relationship. Well, our hooking up. I wouldn’t call what we have a relationship.
I like his dick, and he’s willing to use it on my terms. No strings attached. We both get what we want—the satisfaction of getting off.
I clench around him and a spasm hits me. Deacon’s lips find mine and he grunts against them as he comes. We both jolt a few more times—he groans, I moan his name.
Eventually, we’re both reduced to nothing but rough pants and smiles.
“Fuck, that was fantastic.”
I put a hand on each of his shoulders and push him off me. “Fun’s over.”
Stepping back, he removes the condom, shoves it in his pocket, and pulls his pants up.
“Gross, Deacon, you’re going to ruin your suit.” My nose wrinkles.
“Should I carry it out of here in my fingertips?” He shakes his head at me, laughing.
Fair point.
I hop off the counter and pull my skirt down then hold my hand out. “Panties?”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Finders keepers.”
I roll my eyes and smooth my hands over my hair. I don’t know what his obsession is with my underwear.
“Let’s grab dinner tonight.”
I freeze. What did he just say? “Like a date?” I snicker. “You must be joking.”
“Why’s that funny?” His brows draw inward as if my words have wounded him.
What the hell?
“Come on, Deacon. We know what this is.”
“What’s wrong with going on a date with me?”
I exhale a sigh. “Where should I start? You’re a player. We both agreed this was casual. Please don’t get weird about this. It’s fine the way it is.”
“Can’t two friends share a meal?”
“We’re not friends.”
Take the hint, sir!
He shrugs. “Colleagues share meals.”
“Enough, Deacon.” I need this conversation to end. “It’s against company policy. You have a meeting to get to.”
Deacon takes one of my hands in his and he looks more determined than I’ve ever seen him. “I’m not giving up on this. It will happen.”
I shake my head. He’ll grow tired of me soon enough and move on to the next girl. It’s what he does.
He stuffs his shirt back into his pants and adjusts his Hugo Boss jacket.
Reaching out, his fingers stroke my cheek. “You’re flushed.”
I suck in a deep breath and fight the urge to lean into his hand. There’s just something that feels natural about it, but I know better. The man is anything but an adult. There’s no way he could handle an actual relationship. He takes nothing seriously. I’m not foolish enough to believe I could be the exception.
With a parting smile he slips through the door quietly, taking what seems like all the air with him.
I inhale a few deep breaths to calm myself. There’s too much at stake for me to catch feelings for Deacon Collins. I grab a few pens, Wite-Out, and a pad of legal paper so it looks like I have a legitimate reason for being in here.
My eyes flick back and forth as I walk out. Nobody is around, thank God. The last thing I need is to become the hot gossip item at the office.
I place the stuff from the closet in the bottom drawer of my desk. Deacon exits the bathroom and struts past me wearing a smile so big it might get stuck to his smug face.
“Back to work, slacker.”
I scowl at him. Jerk.
When he reaches his office, I promise myself I won’t give him the satisfaction of catching me staring in his direction.
The heat of his gaze burns into my head, though. I lift my eyes, ever so subtly in his direction, and the bastard winks right at me.
Damn it!
I really need to end this.
Deacon
Stepping off the elevator after a meeting, I spy Quinn behind her desk. She can play this little game all she wants, in fact, it wouldn’t be much fun if she didn’t.
We both know how it’ll end. Honestly, I thought today would be the day she finally caved and said yes. We’ve snuck around the office a few months now, fucking like rabbits. The first time it happened she swore it was a moment of weakness, a one-time thing, but now look at us.
I pull her into the supply closet a few times a week, and sometimes even on the roof deck. Ahh, the roof deck. There’s nothing better than staring out at Lake Michigan while she squeezes that tight pussy around me. My cock hardens at the memories.
Good times. Great oldies.
I continue past her desk, trail a few fingers along the edge, and knock some papers to the floor, just so I can watch her bend over and pick them up.
We both know she’s not wearing panties. They’re still tucked away in my pocket.
Part of me respects her reluctance. I know my reputation; everyone does. I never date. Dexter calls me a serial monogamist. According to Chicago Magazine, I’m one
of the city’s most eligible bachelors.
Thinking about that, I realize I’m quite a catch. Quinn should be thrilled at the thought of a relationship with me. There are a lot of single women in this city who would kill for an opportunity to go on a date with yours truly.
Thing is, I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.
It should bug the shit out of me, but it doesn’t. I want to get to know Quinn on a deeper level than just physical. Maybe it’s just the challenge. The fact she doesn’t give in easily. She confuses the hell out of me, strutting around here in skirts, knowing what her tight little ass and those fucking heels do to me.
I damn near have to bite my knuckle to relieve myself of the thought.
The woman is my damn kryptonite. If I want to be taken seriously, I’m going to need a better plan than fucking her into submission. That much is clear.
I stop just inside my office to enjoy the view.
Right when I’m about to get a nice little show from Quinn, Tate Reynolds comes out of nowhere. “I got it.” She bends down and gathers the papers.
Annoyance washes over me at the sight of her, especially when my eyes land on her giant engagement ring she loves to flaunt.
She’s the chick Decker hooked up with from Dallas. She’s from The Hunter Group, a firm we recently merged with and now she’s Decker’s fiancée. She’s practically the opposite of Quinn in every way imaginable.
Things have smoothed over a little since the merger, but she can still be an uppity bitch who thinks she runs things. Pushy is an understatement with her. The best is when she tries to boss me around.
I’m not Decker and I’ll be damned if I let her lead me around by the balls.
“Such a good Samaritan, Tate. I’ll put you in for employee of the month.”
“I’ll be sure your name goes on the plaque for the alternates, down by the ladies room.” Tate puts the papers on Quinn’s desk and smirks.
Goddamn it.
The Top Gun reference would be hilarious if it came from anyone but her.
I walk into my office, over to my desk to check my schedule for next week. I have a court date coming up for a suit against a local heart surgeon named James Flynn. One of his nurses filed a complaint with the court, saying he smacked her on the ass after a procedure and told her, “Well done.”
I hate these types of cases. For one, it’s he said, she said. Most of the time the accused is a guilty asshole, but I believe Flynn. He’s been a surgeon for more than thirty years and everyone raves about the guy, including previous female employees. He doesn’t have a single write up on his record. Not to mention he’s like sixty and is a family man. The main thing, though, is I’ve talked to him and sized him up. You can tell he’d never do that shit.
It doesn’t matter if I believe him, though. I need a judge to.
I pick up the phone to order Quinn flowers when Tate raps on my door.
I hang the phone up, surprised she actually knocked this time. “Come in.”
I really want to ask her if she finished Decker’s castration procedure and has his nuts in a jar, but I want her out of here as quickly as possible.
“How are preparations for the Flynn case coming along?”
My jaw clenches. “Just fine, Tate.” I grate out her name.
“Doesn’t look like it. You have time to run around being a bully and knocking shit on the floor but haven’t watched the security video the hospital emailed over.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t you fetch me a coffee while I have myself a movie night with the video?” I smirk as all the color drains from her face.
That’s right, Tate. Fuck off.
“Just watch the damn video. It’s a lot like loading male male porn, all you have to do is click the little triangle in the middle. Shouldn’t be anything you can’t handle.”
“That what does it for you and Decker?” I hold up both hands. “Not judging. I think it’s great you two found some common ground in the bedroom.”
She glares back at me. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“How about I give you a call the next time something more in your wheelhouse comes along? Like a ranch hand getting mauled by a heifer.”
I belt out a moo as she storms out of the office.
Jesus Christ. She deserved that.
I don’t take orders from her. She needs to get that shit through her thick head. I do need to review that video though, so I pull up my email. I’m sure there’s nothing on it, but it would be really nice to catch a break.
My thoughts drift back to Quinn and how hot she looked with swollen lips and disheveled hair. Her pale skin and petite frame wrapped around me while she milked my cock for every last drop.
The video can wait a minute. I pick up the phone again and dial the florist. All women love flowers. I’d have my secretary handle this shit, but I don’t need any gossip getting back to Quinn. She’d end our little fling in a heartbeat.
One thing is certain, though.
Quinn will be mine.
Quinn
I get in line at the cafeteria to grab Decker’s coffee and scroll through my task list for the morning. Hopefully, today will go smoothly and I can duck out an hour early to get a head start on my weekend. It doesn’t happen often but on rare occasions Decker sends me home before five.
I move up a spot in line and browse the pastries in the display case. I didn’t have time for breakfast. My power went out sometime during the night and I overslept. My company cell died, but thankfully my personal phone had a charge and my backup alarm woke me up.
My personal line buzzes inside my bag.
Great.
I can’t ignore it. It could be my dad. He only calls for emergencies.
Digging through my wallet, lip gloss, and spare deodorant, I finally find it. My best friend Heather’s face lights up on the screen.
“Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just the usual. Getting ready to live that luxurious retail life.”
“If you hate it so much why don’t you quit?”
She works at some swanky store where one skirt costs more than my rent.
“Not everyone is a genius like you.”
I can picture her sticking her tongue out at me as she says it. She can be such a brat, but I adore her. And I do enjoy the discount she gets me. I wouldn’t have such nice work outfits without it. I make a decent salary but not enough for those kinds of clothes.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold on a second.” I mute her and place my order. “Okay, I’m back.” I balance the coffee holder with one hand and tuck the phone between my chin and shoulder while I stuff a muffin in my mouth.
She complains about her boss for most of the walk back to my floor. “Anyway, enough about that. What are you doing tonight?”
“Studying.”
“C’mon, Quinn. Let’s go out. It’s Friday.” Heather’s been after me for weeks to go clubbing with her.
Between work and school, I don’t have much time for a social life, which is why closet meetings with Deacon work for me.
“Carter Hughes will be there. He’s been asking about you.”
I roll my eyes. Carter Hughes is a prick who nails anything that spreads its legs for him. He’s like a younger and even more immature version of Deacon. No thanks. One rich asshole is enough for me.
“Can’t. I’ll call you later. Just got back to my desk.” I end the call with Heather when I notice a large bouquet of flowers front and center. They come every Friday like clockwork. I keep throwing them in the trash, but Deacon won’t take the hint.
I can’t believe he keeps pulling this shit when someone might trace it back to him. I already know how the scenario would play out. He’d get a small reprimand from Decker, and I’d be shown the door.
Sometimes the hushed whispers and stares make me wonder if half the office doesn’t already know. I’m almost positive Tate is on to us. I really need to put a complete stop to this madness before it gets out of control. I set the coff
ee holder on my desk and tuck my bag into the bottom drawer. I pluck the card from the flowers.
I will get a yes.
-D
“Secret admirer?” Decker’s deep voice booms in my ear.
“Holy sh—” I clutch the card to my chest, my pulse throbbing in my ears. “Sorry. You scared me.” I flip the card face down and hand Decker his coffee.
“How’s today look?”
I take a moment to collect my thoughts.
Decker and Deacon are both tall and fit. Where Decker has icy blue eyes, Deacon’s are gray and broody. Both men are attractive, but then again, all the Collins brothers are. They’re about the same height, but Deacon is way bigger while Decker is lean. Deacon’s damn biceps are like basketballs.
My gaze sweeps down the corridor toward Deacon’s office out of habit. A habit I need to break but can’t seem to. Just like I can’t seem to stop sleeping with him.
Decker clears his throat and snaps me out of my reverie.
“Right. You have a meeting with Beckley Brothers. Potential new client. They’re a young construction company but growing fast. They need advice on some contracts. They built that new coffee place down the street that looks like a giant cup.” I pray he doesn’t pile a bunch of work on me for the weekend. I have a big test I need to study for.
“Everything’s in order?”
I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
“For the meeting? I need you focused, Quinn. Something going on with you?”
“No. I mean, right, of course. No worries. I’ll have everything ready.” I hope that was the answer he was looking for. We work together really well. A lot of people think he’s an asshole, but he just likes things to run smoothly and hates repeating himself. Usually, I’m on the ball and anticipate his needs before he asks.
“Great.”
I chuck the flowers in the trash once Decker heads toward his office.
Glancing around at my desk, I notice someone has been moving crap around again.
Damn it, Deacon.
