Dark Consequences (Club Risque Book 4)

by Poppy Flynn

  Laurel looked at him blankly, not knowing what to say. Shit! She had really let him down badly, but damn it, it hadn't been all her fault! He had been just as much to blame as she was, with his bad mood and failing to tell her some important bits of information. Although she wasn't sure that she really wanted to point that out to him.

  Now that the challenge and bluster had gone out of him, Connor just looked deflated and tired—almost ill. Laurel wanted to go to him and soothe him, see if there was anything she could do to make things easier, but somehow, in such a very short space of time, they seemed to have gotten themselves into some kind of standoff, where everything that came out of her mouth just made it all worse instead of better, and the more they talked, the more everything fell apart. She didn't know what to do for the best, so instinctively, Laurel fell back on what she was used to.

  "Connor," she instructed calmly. "Why don't you go back to your office with the breakfast I've brought in for you. I'll go and make us both a coffee, and then I'll come in with my notebook and we can go through anything that needs to be done for the day so there are no more misunderstandings."

  There; that was reasonable and sensible.

  Connor looked as if he was still rooted to the spot and Laurel was more than a little bit worried about him, but deciding it was best to continue as if everything was fine in the world, she walked over to him, put the deli bag in his hand, and with her hands on his shoulders, she physically turned him around and encouraged him out of the room. Following behind him, she detoured to the break room to do exactly what she had promised.

  Connor sat at his desk feeling somewhat nonplussed. He had been so sure of himself and his very righteous indignation when he had come in this morning at 5:00 am to deal with the paperwork Laurel had left and had been absolutely certain that his anger, at both that and her early exit, had been justified.

  Now, as he sat there clutching the bag she'd thrust at him, with his favourite smoked salmon and cream cheese breakfast bagel in it, he felt like a complete jerk all over again. And that did absolutely nothing to put him in a better frame of mind; it simply added to his irritation.

  Now that he thought about it, he did remember her saying that she had worked through lunch to get the file ready for him. She had a contracted number of work hours, and since she was salaried, any extra hours she put in was on her own time and there was no benefit in it for her except the knowledge of a job well done.

  With the way they had gone at each other yesterday, he could hardly blame her for calling it a day. Except, he had, of course, flying off the handle and letting his anger get the better of him, made a somewhat rash complaint to the HR department.

  Rubbing his hands across his face, Connor decided that he would ring down to Human Resources later on and see if he could make a retraction. Connor knew some of his behaviour was becoming irrational, but with precious little sleep during the past two days and his nerves stretched almost to breaking point, he was finding it hard enough to concentrate on work issues without the added distress of things going wrong within the office.

  When he had come in at the crack of dawn this morning to do what should have been Laurel's job, himself, his anger had peaked all over again. It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to sleep anyway because of the disturbing images that kept infiltrating his brain involving a disturbing, mixed up amalgamation of Rayleen and Laurel, and that the tedious task had actually given him something else to concentrate on. Oh, no, it had simply served to isolate and direct his anger onto the only convenient target once more, and when Laurel had been late, that had just compounded his fury until it had spilled out all over again.

  Laurel bustled in with the refreshments, looking bright and cheerful and composed. While his knee jerk reaction was to lose his shit over the completely false turnaround, Connor took some deep breaths and reminded himself that she was just doing her best to put things back on an even keel, which was exactly what he needed. What they both needed.

  Accepting the drink, he pulled up his schedule for the day and attempted to get down to work.

  On the other side of the desk, Laurel watched and smiled and jotted things down in her notepad, all light and cheeriness and compliance, as if none of the disaster from the past two days had ever occurred.

  He would not let it get his back up. She was doing the right thing; logically, he understood and appreciated that. He just wasn't sure if his state of mind right now was entirely rational. And that was another thing that he was trying not to worry about. He'd be fine. Just as soon as he could put his past horror with Rayleen out of his mind again, he would go back to being his usual happy self. He just needed to work through it all.

  It occurred to him that maybe he should schedule an appointment with the psychologist he'd seen when he'd first attempted to iron out the wrinkles in his psyche, but it had been a long time—over a decade—and he didn't even know if the man was still practicing. Never mind that he was on the other side of the country so, even if he was, the distance pretty much negated the opportunity.

  Connor really couldn't stomach the idea of spilling his guts all over again to someone new. There was Micah, of course, but the thought of telling a close friend and employee exactly what had occurred in his past just made Connor feel physically sick. Telling all the sordid details, and the consequences thereof, to a stranger was bad enough. Connor just couldn't cope with the idea of his friends knowing those details. He had never told a living soul the full specifics. Not that very first counsellor he had sought out, not even his closest buddies because, deep down, Connor was convinced they would think less of him if they knew. There was no real reason for him to think that. None of them were the judgmental type. It was just the sheer humiliation of anyone else knowing what had happened that made him keep it to himself. He was a man now, a Dominant. He was strong. He was in control. Always in control. There was no room in his life for any kind of weakness. He wasn't weak, dammit. He had promised himself he would never be weak again, would never be entwined in anyone else's control again.

  And until right now, none of it had been an issue. He had put everything behind him and moved on with his life…or so he had thought. Why everything had come, terrifyingly, to the surface right now, Connor couldn't fathom. He just knew that it was somehow linked to Laurel. It was her fault all this was back in his conscious thoughts, her fault that he was having to deal with this crap all over again. He didn't even know why it was her fault. He just knew that it was.

  Laurel pasted a cheery smile firmly on her face and continued as if there was nothing wrong, even though she was getting more and more concerned by the way Connor seemed to have completely zoned out on her. She was trying to get things back on an even keel, so she didn't think that pulling him up on his obvious distraction was conducive to maintaining that fragile balance. Instead, she chattered on, hoping he would snap out of it and get back on track. Finally trailing off when that didn't seem to be working, Laurel finally got up and made her way around the desk to his side.

  "Connor, are you okay?" she asked tentatively, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  Starting, as if he hadn't even realised she was there, Connor grabbed Laurel's hand. At first, Laurel thought he was going to push her away, but in the next moment, she found herself pulled across his knee, her skirt hitched up around her waist, and his legs and left forearm pinning her into place while his large right hand rained down a volley of loud, cracking slaps across the vulnerable cheeks of her backside which were bared by her thong.

  Laurel cried out. She wasn't sure if it was because they were simply in their work space or if it was just that she hadn't seen it coming, but the surprise spanking Connor was giving her, after everything that had already happened, seemed to smart and sting even more than usual. Connor certainly wasn't holding anything back. His hand crashed down against her unprepared skin again and again, sometimes concentrating on the exact same spot over and over, without any kind of reprieve,
until she was shrieking and squirming, the tears brimming and spilling no matter how hard she tried to stop them. And yet at the same time, she could feel her clit throbbing in reply to the brutal attention and her channel dampening and engaging with the desire to feel him fill her.

  In a flurry that left her lightheaded, he hauled her back up just as suddenly as he had pulled her down, and Laurel moaned as her sore, reddened butt cheeks rubbed against the coarse wool of his suit pants. Connor pulled her into his chest and held her there tightly with one big hand while he ploughed his fingers harshly into her hair and plundered her lips with a searing kiss. His tongue dived deep into her mouth when she parted them on a surprised squeak and his fingers tightened against her scalp, rigidly holding her head in place, while he ground his growing erection into the flesh of her heated, stinging buttocks.

  "It's you!" he growled accusingly when they finally came up for air. "You're driving me insane!" He pulled her round to straddle him properly, and Laurel moaned, feeling the hard ridge of his cock pressed against the warmth of her increasingly needy pussy. She rocked against him, stimulating them both even more.

  Connor grabbed at her breasts through the soft silk of her blouse and squeezed harshly, straining the delicate fabric and nuzzling into her neck. Anticipating his intentions, Laurel rapidly undid the buttons before Connor just went ahead and ripped them all to shreds. As soon as they were free, Connor's hands spanned her waist and he hauled her up so that her breasts were level with his face. Not even waiting for her to divest herself of her bra, Connor closed his teeth around one hard peaking nipple, fabric and all, and bit down hard enough to have Laurel crying out. He did the same to the other one then, pushing her back so her elbows rested on the desk behind her. He pushed his hands inside the cups and found the sore, pouting buds, twisting them harshly until Laurel was writhing and panting on his lap and undulating against his cock that was still trapped in his pants.

  Laurel went to work on the zipper, and as she did, Connor took the opportunity to push her skirt up around her waist. He growled low in his throat at the sight of the suspenders and stockings she was wearing, but a second before impatience got the better of him, he growled, 'Tell me you want this, Laurel."

  "Fuck me, Connor! Don't stop!" she demanded.

  With that, he grasped the edges of the flimsy thong she was wearing and pulled hard, ripping the fabric away from her body at the same time as she finally freed his aching cock. There was no foreplay or finesse. Connor lifted her up bodily until Laurel was aligned above his swollen dick then forced her down on top of him, slamming up into her at the same time. Laurel screamed but Connor didn't let up—couldn't. He ploughed into her wet warmth again and again, using his grip on her hips to yank her down on him, over and over, grinding his pelvis against her clit. His head was thrown against the back of his chair and he gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar surge of passion fuelled adrenalin fill his swelling balls, ready for him to shoot his load.

  There was no sensitivity and no finesse. Connor didn't think; he simply allowed himself to feel. At the very last moment, his innate dominance surged to the fore, and guiltily, he experienced a scant moment of clarity, which allowed him to consider the woman he had just despoiled. Sneaking one hand between their still clothed bodies, Connor found the bundle of nerves he sought and pressed his fingers firmly on either side, manipulating the little nub until he felt Laurel gasp and pant and the quivering muscles of her tight sheath started to ripple, unmistakably, around him until she screamed out her own pleasure. As soon as she peaked, Connor allowed himself to let go while the contractions of her orgasm milked him to completion.

  They came down slowly, suddenly still after the storm of frantic movement. Connor held a panting Laurel, with her face pressed tightly against his chest, as he struggled to get back his breath. His faculties finally coming back to him, Connor looked toward his office door and cursed quietly, realising that it was unlocked, ajar, and anybody could have just walked in. The carpeting was plush and silent on the upper directors' floors. They wouldn't have heard anyone approach until it was far too late. What in God's name had just gotten into him?

  He took a couple of deep breaths, and realising they were both still in a very compromising position, Connor ran a comforting hand up and down Laurel's back, whispering quietly. "Fluff? We need to get cleaned up, pet…the door's open."

  "What?" She lifted her head in a bemused daze. Just the kind of look he loved to see on a woman's face. Unfortunately, right now wasn't the time to enjoy it.

  After placing a soft kiss in the middle of her forehead, Connor lifted her carefully off of his knee and gave her backside a gentle pat as he pointed her in the direction of his private bathroom. He scooted back in his chair and grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on his desk, cleaning himself up slightly until he could get in there, himself. He was just zipping up his fly when the representative from HR gave a sharp knock on his door and walked in.

  Laurel was just finishing up in the bathroom when her attention was drawn by the sound of voices from Connor's office. With the water running, she hadn't been alerted to them before. Even in the confines of the small, windowless room where no one could see her, Laurel felt her face heating with embarrassment as she realised just how close she and Connor had come to providing a hell of a lot more than just an eyeful for some poor, unsuspecting employee.

  As she crept toward the door, Laurel wondered exactly what she was supposed to do now. She didn't want to just walk brazenly out of Connor's private bathroom. That would flag far too many suspicions, but on the other hand, she had no idea how long she might have to stay here otherwise. Was the person with Connor scheduled for a meeting? Laurel wracked her brains trying to remember exactly what had been on the schedule they had been discussing, but her mind was distracted by the fact that her half-eaten breakfast and her notepad were on Connor's desk and her panties were… That was a damn good question. Just where exactly were her panties?

  She had a vague recollection of Connor ripping them off when things had gotten heated, but she had no idea what had happened to them after that—except for the fact that she didn't have them and now she wasn't wearing any. Dear God, she hoped they hadn't been tossed somewhere on his floor! What the hell had she been thinking! This was her work environment, for Christ's sake. She couldn't afford for the kind of talk to get around the building of the type that would ensue if something like her humping her boss at his desk in the middle of the working day were ever to get out. Not even if it had no more significance than a rumour.

  She turned back to the mirror and checked her hair and makeup and rearranged her clothing so that she, once again, appeared as respectable as she could manage under the circumstances.

  It would be fine, she told herself. No one would ever know that she wasn't wearing any underwear under her skirt, even if it was shorter than was maybe wise to be going au naturelle. Then she snuck quietly back to the door and pressed her ear against it to see if she could make out who was with Connor and just how long she might have to stay locked in his bathroom while she tried not to panic too much about what might happen if her phone extension remained unanswered for too long.

  Laurel couldn't hear anything Connor was saying, since his voice had too deep a resonance for her to make out anything more than the deep rumble of him speaking. Although the other voice was higher pitched, with a nasal quality about it, Laurel was certain it was another man. His voice carried better, and she could make out everything he was saying. She almost wished she couldn't as his words hit her hard.

  "The complaints you have lodged in HR state that you have given your PA, Laurel Stanton, more than one verbal warning, Mr. Griffin. Is that not correct?"

  Connor's voice was just a drone in the background as he obviously replied before the new voice continued. "Well, be that as it may, Miss Stanton will have to reply to these allegations within the remit of the HR complaints system."

  Laurel's hands fisted against the white p
aint of the door until her knuckles mirrored the colour, but she knew that her face was probably bright red with the rage she could feel boiling up in her chest. The jerk had gone and reported her to Human Resources. How dare he! And even after doing that, he'd had the cheek to fuck her, in plain sight, right at his desk, as if he hadn't just cast a huge, damning shadow over her reputation.

  Well, she wasn't going to take that lying down. Two could play at that kind of game! Without giving another thought to the wisdom of her actions, Laurel unlocked the door, yanked it open with a jerk and stormed into the room, much to the shock of the HR rep who was standing next to Connor's desk talking to the asshole in question.

  Laurel still didn't pause to consider the prudence of anything she might say. In fact, she hadn't really considered what she was going to say until the words popped out of her mouth.

  "You reported me to HR? You fucking asshole! I thought we'd sorted this out. I thought we'd put this crap behind us and now I find out that you pulled a stunt like this?"

  The little man from HR was busy scribbling furiously in his notebook and keeping a mumbling commentary under his breath. "Well, I can certainly see what you mean about the language and the lack of respect!" he muttered loudly enough for the words to catch Laurel's attention.

  "Excuse me, but I think I have damn well got justifiable cause, thank you very much!"

  Connor, whose features had expressed no small amount of shock when she'd come stomping out of his private cloakroom, now schooled his features into a posed and expressionless mask.

  "You are not helping the situation, Miss Stanton."

  "Don't you Miss Stanton me. Ten minutes ago, you were the one who pulled me over your knee, and now, after all that, I get to hear this?"

  "Laurel!" Connor bit out the warning, trying to use his booming voice to drown out her ill-advised words, but it was too late, and the HR rep jumped on them, narrowing his eyes and throwing a squinty eyed, accusatory look Connor's way.