by Amber Kelly
“She’d better not have been the one who got you hard, cowboy,” I say as I squeeze him tight.
He moans out, “No, ma’am.”
His hands are rubbing circles on the tops of my thighs, and he slowly moves them up to bring the hem of my skirt with them. I bear up, so he can slide it to my waist. Then, he takes the back of his hand and runs his knuckles over the front of my black lace panties, and my legs start to shake as he grazes my clit. He grins at my reaction and then slides a finger under the lace and glides it through my wetness before pumping it inside of me.
“Oh, yes,” I cry as I remove my hand from him and bring my arms back to brace myself against the cool wood of my desk.
I close my eyes and throw my head back as he adds another finger and starts a delicious swirl. He plays for just a few moments before he loses his patience and withdraws, ripping my panties down my legs. I open my eyes just as he drops his jeans to the floor and steps out of them before he grabs my hips and yanks me forward. I let out a surprised yelp and then watch as he spreads my legs wide to give himself better access. Then, he reaches back for the chair that is in front of my desk and pulls it closer, so he can sit before me. His fingers find their way back to my opening. He uses his finger and thumb to work me up into a frenzy, and then he brings his mouth to my center and starts to lap at me wildly.
“Oh, that’s it, cowboy. Right there,” I manage to breathe out as I grab his hair and hold on.
He sucks my clit between his teeth and bites down lightly, and I buck off the desk.
That’s when he slides the chair back and away from me.
I voice my protest, and he stands and lifts me off the desk and onto my feet.
He turns me, bends me over the desk, and hikes my skirt back up. He palms the cheek, and then he gives it a quick slap before he leans over me and says into my ear, “Have you been naughty or nice this year, Miss Claiborne?”
“Naughty. Very, very naughty,” I answer.
He gives me another quick smack, and I moan.
“Are you going to be nice the rest of the year?” he asks.
“Probably not.”
That gets me another lick, and I can feel the heat radiating off my skin. He soothingly caresses his hand over the spot just before he plants a gentle kiss there.
Then, he takes his knee and spreads my legs before he bends back to my ear. I am all sensation. I feel his heat and the rise and fall of his chest against my back and the slick finish of the desk against my tight nipples. The sound of our heavy breaths mingles with the sound of the city outside the window.
He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and his teeth sink in.
A shiver runs down my spine.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Stop teasing me, Payne. I need you inside of me now,” I demand.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks as he slides his hand between my legs again. “Oh, yes, you’re dripping,” he tells me what I already know.
“Payne, I swear if you don’t—”
My retort dies on my lips as he thrusts into me from behind.
Finally.
I bear up to give him plenty of access, and he takes the opportunity to bring his hands around, removing my blouse. Then, he undoes the front clasp of my bra with expert ease, and it falls to the sides. He cups my breasts as he pumps into me, and his thumbs circle my aching nipples.
The air kicks on, and the vent above us blows across our sweat-slicked skin. Gooseflesh crawls up my back and intensifies the mounting wave of pleasure that is bubbling to the surface.
I start to push up onto the toe of my heels to meet his movement and rock into him. I can feel the warmth spreading down my spine to my core. Payne releases one of my breasts, and his thumb finds my clit. He presses into me with the perfect pressure my body needs to let go, and I slam my hands against the top of the desk, sending papers flying as my legs quake from the orgasm shooting through me. I grab hold of the object beside me and hurl it across the room as I cry out.
“Yes, Payne. Yes, yes, yes,” I chant as the euphoria rushes over my limbs and I melt into the wood.
He continues to pump in and out until his knees buckle, and he releases into me on a groan. Spent, he falls against my back, and we just lie there until our heart rates come down. Then, he kisses my neck and stands.
I get to my feet, a little shaky on my heels, and turn to face him.
He wraps me in his arms and kisses me gently.
“Hi, gorgeous. It’s good to see you,” he says.
I lace my arms around his neck. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
He growls and starts to back me up until my thighs hit the desk again.
“I’m teasing. I’m teasing. You have thoroughly worn me out, and now, I’m ravenous. Feed me before I get cranky,” I demand.
“Woman, I just made you come so hard, you threw a stapler and knocked a plant over, and you are threatening to get cranky?”
I stand and smooth my skirt back over my hips and clasp my bra. “Yep.”
“Damn, I missed you,” he says as he reaches for his tee.
We get dressed, and I call my car service to come pick us up. I order takeout delivery from my favorite Chinese restaurant on the way. I have a feeling we will be staying in tonight.
Payne
I stir at the clang of pounding that sounds like a jackhammer trying to bust its way through the wall to Charlotte’s bedroom. I feel her body jolt, and I know it woke her up too.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask without opening my eyes.
She rolls into my side and throws her arm across my waist. “They are doing construction on the building beside this one, and they start with that racket every single morning at seven a.m. on the dot,” she huffs.
“Every morning? Shit, for how long?”
“Six months now. They were supposed to be finished by the end of November but no such luck. It’s not that big a deal during the week because I’m usually up and gone by this time.”
I open one eye and look at her. “You go into the office earlier than seven a.m.?”
That surprises me. When she’s in Poplar Falls, the woman never gets out of bed until I forcibly make her get up.
“No, I go to my SoulCycle class at six, but when I’m off, I usually wait until the eight a.m. class,” she answers.
“What the hell is SoulCycle?”
“It’s a class where we ride stationary bikes and follow the instructions of a military-type tyrant who tries to kill us before the end of the hour. It’s fun. You want to try it? I can bring one visitor per session.”
“You want me to get on a bike and pretend I’m riding it, but it doesn’t move?”
“Well, yes. It’s good exercise, and there’s a screen on each bike that shows you riding through a trail or on a beach.”
I just stare at her like she’s grown a second head.
“How about we just get a couple of bikes from that thingy outside that has them all piled on it and actually ride them through that big, beautiful park you keep telling me about?” I suggest.
She wrinkles her nose. “I pay a lot for those classes, so I can eat anything I want, and my backside stays firm.”
I tilt my head as I tug the sheet that’s covering her down to the tops of her thighs, and glance at the perfect curve of her.
“I like your ass exactly the way it is, and I can think of much more fun ways to keep it nice and toned,” I say as I scoop her up and pull her on top of me.
She lays her chin on my chest and raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay, cowboy, you win this round. No class, but don’t think you’re getting out of dinner with my friends tonight. No amount of distraction sex is getting me to cancel. They have been dying to see what keeps me hopping on planes and flying to the middle of nowhere, and I’m going to show you off.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. You get me out of this loud construction zone and spend the afternoon showing me what it is you love about this noisy, crowded cit
y, and I’ll be happy to let you parade me around in front of your friends tonight.”
“Deal. By the way, how long are you staying?”
“Until Christmas night. I have an overnight flight back to Denver.”
“That means you’ll be coming to my parents’ house for Christmas. I can’t wait for my mother to get a gander at you. You think Vivian Marshall is a handful? My mother taught her everything she knows.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her up until we’re nose to nose. “I can handle your momma,” I tell her before I take her mouth, and then I lie back and block out the commotion outside while she uses that mouth on me.
We spend the afternoon in the elbow-to-elbow crowds. Everyone’s in a hurry to get somewhere, and no one cares if they are in your space. I try to give her my full attention as she exuberantly spills the history of every sight. I might not enjoy all the walking, all the noise, or all the rude people, but I love every second of watching her excitedly act as my personal tour guide through New York from river to river. The food isn’t bad either. We eat our way across the city, and I have to admit, the bagels and pizza are both superior to the ones you can get in Colorado.
“I told you. Nothing compares to a slice of pie in the city,” she says as we turn down yet another corner. “We’re here,” she screeches as she turns to face me and takes my hand, pulling me into a crowded square.
What has to be thousands of people are bunched into the courtyard between two buildings. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic when she stops and points up. I follow her gaze up to an enormous Christmas tree covered in lights. It’s as tall as a building.
“Ta-da! The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree,” she says as she stares up at the twinkling branches. “Isn’t it a breathtaking sight?” she asks.
I keep my eyes firmly on the woman in front of me as I answer, “It sure is.”
Just then, a large man looking down at his phone plows into us. He looks up as if just realizing he is walking and steps around us.
“You’re excused, asshole,” I yell after him.
Charlotte grabs my face with her hands. “You’ve had enough, haven’t you?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you somewhere less congested before you blow a gasket.”
She fists my shirt and drags me through the spiderweb of limbs and down another street that looks the same as all the others.
Then, she darts into a side door leading into a hotel and walks us through the lobby, toward the back, and to what looks to be the entrance to a restaurant.
We stop at the hostess.
“Hi, Brit. Are the others here?” she asks the woman standing behind the podium.
“Hi, Miss Claiborne. Yes, your party arrived a few minutes ago. They’re waiting at the bar until we get your regular table ready.”
“Thank you,” she says as she grabs my hand and leads me past the lady and into a dimly lit lounge with small tables and a large mahogany bar.
My ears and my head appreciate the quiet as we walk to join a small crowd standing at a table to the left of the bar.
“Charlotte!” one of the girls calls as we approach. “I already ordered you a white wine spritzer, you tardy bitch.”
“Thanks, hon,” she says as we make it to her friend, and they air-kiss each other’s cheeks.
“Wow, who’s your friend?” the girl asks as she looks around Charlotte to me.
“This is my Colorado mountain man I’ve been telling you about, Payne Henderson. This is Cora McDaniels. She’s one of my oldest friends. We went to college together,” Charlotte introduces.
The girl sticks her hand out to me, palm down. I look at her hand, and not knowing what she’s looking for, I clutch her fingers and shake.
She and Charlotte both chuckle as I release her.
A waitress in a black tie comes over with a tray and hands Charlotte a wineglass.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” she asks me.
“What do you have on tap?”
“Tap?” she repeats back to me, clearly confused.
“Yeah, beer. Draft beer?”
“Oh.” She recovers. “We have several craft beers available. Let me grab you a beer menu. I’ll be right back.”
With that, she sashays off to the bar.
“A beer menu?” I ask Charlotte.
Before she can say anything, a pompous voice from behind answers, “Sorry, they don’t serve Bud Light here.”
I turn to see a dark-haired guy in a navy suit. He offers me his hand, and I just look at it.
He clears his throat and puts it in his pocket.
“I suggest the Kentucky Vanilla Barrel Ale,” he offers as he brings his glass of amber liquid to his lips.
The waitress returns with the card in hand.
I wave it off. “Just bring me a Maker’s Mark, straight up.”
“Right away, sir.”
“And drop the sir. The name’s Payne,” I tell her.
She blushes as she repeats my name, “Payne. Got it. Coming right up.”
She rushes off again, and Charlotte narrows her eyes at me.
“You can’t just start throwing all that cowboy hotness around and springing it on unsuspecting New York women. These females are not prepared. It’s unfair.”
“You’re a nut,” I say as I pull her into me.
“Charlotte, my mother wanted me to ask if you had received your Christmas Eve invitation yet? She hasn’t gotten your RSVP,” another gray suit asks her.
“Oh, I must have forgotten,” she says and then looks up at me. “Did you bring anything other than jeans?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm,” she says, assessing me. “You wouldn’t want to go to a charity party with me, would you?”
I shake my head.
“Tyler, tell your mother I’m not going to be able to make it this year. I have company from out of town.”
“Your mother is not going to be happy,” Cora says, and she turns to her.
“My mother won’t care if I miss one year,” Charlotte disagrees.
“If you say so. You want another?” she asks as she dangles her empty glass.
“Of course,” Charlotte says as she downs the last drop from her glass.
The waitress makes it back with my drink and hurries back off for two more drinks for the girls. A third female joins them, and they start gabbing about some new boutique opening.
“So, what do you do, Payne?” Suit Number One asks.
I cut my eyes to him. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Blake Thornton, and this is my associate Tyler McMann,” the navy suit introduces me to his pal.
“Associate. Is that what you call your friends in New York?” I ask.
“No, we’re business partners,” he clarifies.
“So, not friends?”
“Yes, friends as well.”
Why didn’t he just say that?
“I’m a farmer,” I tell them, and the expression on their faces is confusion.
“A farmer? As in plowing fields and growing things like vegetables?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“That’s … interesting,” Blake says for lack of a better response.
“It can be,” I say as I gulp the rest of my drink and signal for the waitress to bring me another.
She nods at me, and I focus back on the associates.
“We are traders,” he tells me.
“Traders?”
“Yes, on Wall Street. We buy and sell stocks for our clients,” he explains.
“Sounds fascinating,” I remark.
“Quite. I bet doing farm things is as well,” Tyler adds.
“Yep.”
We stand there in awkward silence as the girls talk nonstop.
Charlotte pulls another girl away and walks her to me.
“Payne, this is Mila; she’s my baby sister. She’s having drinks with us but not dinner. She’s
a model, so she only eats when it’s absolutely necessary,” she introduces.
“You’re such a bitch,” Mila says before she turns to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Payne,” she says.
“Same.”
“Damn, that accent is sexy. I bet my sister chains you to the bed and just makes you talk to her all night.”
“What, and waste all this?” Charlotte says as she gestures wildly at me from head to foot.
“Yeah, I see your point.”
Charlotte turns and holds out her third empty glass to me.
“You’d better slow down. I’ll not have you passing out on me tonight,” I whisper into her hair.
Blake stares a hole past Tyler at us, and if looks could ignite, I would be bursting into a fireball. Mr. Navy Suit obviously has a hard-on for Charlotte. Sucks to be him.
“Not gonna happen,” she says to me, oblivious to his attention.
“How long have we been waiting? I’m going to go ask Brit how much longer before we’re seated,” Cora announces before walking off.
“I’ll come with you. I need to powder my nose,” Charlotte calls after her. “I’ll be right back,” she tells me as I take the glass from her hand.
I watch as she walks out of sight, and every man in the bar trains his eyes to focus on her backside in that figure-hugging dress.
“Stunning, isn’t she?” Blake asks as he, too, watches her go.
I cut my eyes to him and do not react to his question. “Another round, fellas?” I offer instead.
“Sure,” Tyler says, and I don’t wait for Blake to answer before I make my way to the bar.
I’m chatting with the bartender when Charlotte and Cora return. She doesn’t see me as they pass and continues to the guys. I pick up the three glasses in front of me and follow them. When I make it to the group, I hear Charlotte’s angry voice.
“What did you just say?”
The guys turn around and face Charlotte. She has her arms crossed on her chest, and she’s scowling at them.
“Charlotte, did you find out how much longer the table will be?” Tyler deflects.
“I asked you a question.”
