After Hours

by Lynda Aicher

Why?

  Not my thing.

  What is your thing?

  Have you forgotten already?

  No. Not even slightly. She toyed with another response, the office slipping away. Would you go farther?

  Explain.

  He was going to make her say it. Or type it. She scowled at her phone. Could he interpret that? Would you fuck me in the room? There. She tapped the Send with force, a bit of satisfaction singing through her.

  No.

  Her jaw dropped. Why not? Was she that objectionable? Don’t you fuck? she added just to push.

  Yes, I fuck. But I don’t share that.

  Why? Now she was really curious.

  Again. Not my thing.

  Did that mean they’d never do it? Disappointment settled in swift and hard. Ouch. She set her phone aside, unsure what she was feeling. A weight pressed on her chest. Her stomach churned on the last piece of information. She should be relieved, right? She didn’t have to worry about being pushed that far.

  But she’d wanted that. To be pushed. To be lost to the moment. To feel him thrusting into her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut along with her legs. The desire sprang up swift and hot from just thinking about it.

  “Avery.”

  Her eyes flew open, spine snapping straight. “Gregory.” She forced a smile, that damn heat spreading over her chest and up her neck.

  He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she quickly assured him, head shaking. “I’m fine.”

  He eyed her skeptically but didn’t push. “I’ll need those report notes. AP should be sending their updated numbers this afternoon. Can you roll them in and run a new report when you get them?”

  “Will do.” She held her breath until he entered his office and shut the door behind him. She sagged forward, relief forcing a giddy laugh to squeak out.

  She picked up her phone and sent one more text. Would you fuck me outside of the room? Could she be so bold? Her thumb hovered over the send button, caution warring with irritation. Was she being a pushy bitch? Did it matter?

  They weren’t a couple. This wasn’t a relationship.

  He’d told her to ask for what she wanted.

  She sent the text with one sharp stab at her screen. And then promptly stuffed her phone into her purse and closed her desk drawer. She strode to the bathroom, determined to forget about the text until after work.

  Like that wasn’t five long hours away. Could she hold out?

  Yes.

  She shoved through the bathroom door, the force smacking her palms. Just sex. Not intercourse, but out-of-the-norm sex. Still hot, amazing and so much more than she’d probably have a chance to try again.

  No matter how he responded to her question, she’d still make another trip to the Boardroom with him. That reality irritated her, but she couldn’t deny the giddy rush that raced through her.

  * * *

  Would you fuck me outside of the room?

  Carson stared at the text. His fingers tingled with the memory of her clenching down on them when she came. The thought of fucking her hadn’t left his mind since he’d watched her reaction the first time she’d walked into the boardroom.

  Damn. He set his phone down and spun around to stare out the window. The real question wasn’t would he fuck her, but will he. The answer to the first was “hell yes.” He’d fuck her just about anywhere if the circumstances were different.

  And that was an excuse.

  He scrubbed his face, indecision scrambling his normal calm. The truth was he wasn’t sure if fucking her once would be enough. Her unfolding passion had been so incredible to watch. And she wanted to explore more.

  There was no way in hell he’d say no to being a part of that.

  His phone buzzed with another text, and he swung his chair around, dread mixing with anticipation. Had she taken his silence as a no?

  That’d be good, right?

  His snort shot out sharp and quick when he saw the text from Trevor. Do I need the details yet?

  No. Carson left it at that. No one needed the details. A twinge pinched his chest, and it took him a moment to recognize it for what it was: jealousy. He frowned. Where’d that come from? There was no room for jealousy in the Boardroom.

  What was his problem? He frequently fucked women. Not during a scene, but after. There were a number of women in the Boardroom whom he played with during a scene, much like he’d done with Avery, and fucked after or hooked up with randomly. All of them had the same view on sex as him. The physical release was their only goal.

  And now there was Avery. A gorgeous, smart woman who knew about his sexual desires and wanted more. But for how long? When would it be too much for her? How long would it take before she expected him to give up the Boardroom?

  He’d seen it happen with too many men and women who drifted away from the Boardroom once they’d settled down with a single person. Yes, there were couples in the Boardroom, but it wasn’t the norm.

  And he was getting ahead of himself—way ahead.

  Would she seek out another guy to help her explore if he walked away? The thought of someone else showing her how sensual voyeurism could be turned that twinge of jealousy into an angry green monster. What if the guy forced her to do things she didn’t want? Would he fuck her in the room? Would he treat her with respect?

  Would he cherish every sigh and moan? Each gasp and sweet plea for more?

  “Fuck.”

  He snatched up his phone and texted one word to Avery. Yes.

  Chapter Eleven

  The building was downtown this time. A high-rise that soared into the night just blocks from the Faulkner offices. Avery stared at the elevator numbers as they rose to the fortieth floor. She took a long, slow breath that did nothing to quiet her racing pulse. She was doing this again.

  She glanced at Carson. He’d been the perfect gentleman since he’d picked her up. Courteous. Polite. His hand rested on the small of her back, tempting her to step closer to him.

  And she couldn’t read anything into it.

  He looked down at her, that half smile of his appearing. His eyes were almost a smoky blue that matched the color of his tie. “You okay?” His voice rumbled through the small space. That sexy purr deepened the more intimate he became. Had his voice always been like that?

  She gave him a small smile back. “Yes. Just nervous.”

  He rubbed her back in soothing circles. “The same rules apply. We can leave whenever you want.”

  She nodded. The bell dinged their arrival, the doors sliding open on the top floor. A tall man in a gray suit wearing black-framed glasses that matched his hair stood behind the large glass doors. Cummings, Lang & Burns was etched into the glass in large script. Avery had to work to keep her shock from showing. Was she really going to watch sex at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city?

  Maybe have sex?

  She’d been thinking about that since she’d found Carson’s one-word response to her text. Yes. Yes, he’d fuck her outside of the Boardroom. Would he tonight?

  The other man let them in and then stepped into the lobby.

  Carson frowned. “You’re not staying?”

  The guy shook his head. “Not tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late for a meeting. Dan is here. Cleaning arrives at midnight.”

  Dan? Cleaning? Another wave of nerves settled in Avery’s stomach. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she followed Carson past the empty reception desk and down a hallway lined with closed doors. The lights were dimmed. A sense of déjà vu settled over her. Only this time she knew what she was walking into.

  Carson led her into another small conference room. He kept the light off, the moon and skyline providing enough to see by. The view of the Bay Bridge was stunning, and Avery stared at it, a quiet falling o
ver her.

  She wanted this—whatever it turned out to be.

  “Doubts?” Carson asked. He stood behind her, his presence simmering down her back on a wave of awareness.

  “No.” She set her purse on the table, undid her coat. Her nipples pebbled when the cool air hit her bare back. His inhalation was audible, a long drag that said he approved. The dress cut in a swoop to the hollow of her back, exposing a display of flesh she’d be embarrassed to wear outside of this environment. The silky material teased her skin in a caress of sensual expense that ended high on her thigh in front and cut almost to her calves in the back.

  His palm slid beneath the low back to glide around her side. Her abdomen contracted, breath holding. Heat raced in the wake of his touch, sinking deep. “Nice choice.” His voice rumbled by her ear.

  She basked in his praise, a smile curling her lips. “Thank you.”

  He ran his hand up her spine to thread his fingers through the ends of her hair. “So is this.” He lifted the ends only to let them fall in a feather of tickling glides. “It’s as beautiful as I’d imagined.”

  Another wave of warmth unfurled in her chest. He’d been thinking about her. Her nerves retreated to a low churn as her own power took over.

  She turned in his arms and ran her hands up the lapels of his suit coat. She wasn’t helpless nor was she completely naïve. And damn, how she wanted him. “Should we go?” she asked. She smoothed her palms down his pecs, images of his bare chest springing up. He was fit, that was obvious. Would he have chest hair? A treasure trail?

  His soft tumble of laughter was another sultry rumble that did all kinds of strange things to her insides. He ran his fingers up her jaw, appreciation and lust showing. “You are dangerous.” He claimed her mouth in a hard kiss before she could respond.

  She froze for an instant, then sank into his demand. He plundered her mouth with a controlling crush that bordered on desperate. It was hard, intense and a little overwhelming until she gave herself over to him. Only then did she lose herself in the hot press of his tongue and reckless abandon.

  He wrenched his mouth from hers. “Fuck.” His low curse penetrated the fog that’d overtaken her mind. “We need to go.” He grabbed her hand and led her from the room a moment later.

  She was still catching her breath when he opened another door and led her inside. The skyline was the first thing she noticed, a mirror of what she’d seen from the other room. The woman lying facedown over the table, feet on the floor, was the second.

  She blinked and followed Carson as he led her to the opposite end of the table, her focus on the woman. The lighting was once again provided by the moon and surrounding city. The shadows lent a mystery to the atmosphere along with a sensuality. She was quickly learning that impressions were more powerful than blatant detail.

  The woman’s dark blond hair was draped to the side, her eyes closed. Her arms were spread wide, wrists bound in black straps that disappeared beneath the table. A moan filtered into the room, and Avery’s focus went to the man crouched behind the woman. His hands were braced on her butt cheeks, head moving in an obvious rhythm as he licked her. The woman writhed on the table, her gasps plucking through the room on sharp notes.

  Confusion swirled in Avery. The scene was more intense and apparently well underway. The sense of invading something private prickled over her skin in a wave of taboo sinfulness. Wrong but so very right in this room.

  Carson rested back on a credenza that ran the length of the wall and guided Avery until she stood between his legs. The woman cried out, hips bucking with the little leverage she could gain.

  “Give her what she wants,” Carson said.

  The man swatted her ass. The sharp smack rang through the room before it was drowned out by the woman’s cry. Another crack landed on her other ass cheek, the flesh jiggling beneath the impact.

  Avery flinched, frowned, understanding hitching over comprehension. She’d asked for more without being specific.

  This was definitely more.

  She squirmed in Carson’s arms, unease twisting in her chest. He urged her back until she rested against him. Her sigh came out immediately. Trust him. He slid his hand over her stomach, his touch firm, possessive. Her muscles relaxed in increments from her shoulders to her toes.

  The guy stood and proceeded to rain a series of solid, hard swats to the woman’s bottom. Each strike vibrated through the room and into Avery. Her breaths shortened, chest rising and falling in time with each strike.

  She turned her head toward Carson, eyes still glued to the scene. Doubts swirled, but they collided with her fascination.

  “She likes it rougher,” Carson said in her ear.

  Avery swallowed. “How rough?” she managed to whisper.

  “Nothing more than she wants.” He kissed her jaw, ran his hands over her hips and down her sides.

  And how much was that?

  The pinched look on the woman’s face morphed to one of pleasure, lips parting, muscles relaxing. Her whimpers turned into moans, her butt thrusting upward as far as she could stretch.

  “Please,” the woman said. “More.” She sucked in a breath, squirming in her restraints. “I need more.”

  Oh my God. Avery had never witnessed anything close to this. Harsh yet wanting. Wrong and yet so right in this setting.

  Carson slipped a hand between them to rub Avery’s bottom. An undeniable ache spread over her ass to reach her pussy as her imagination latched on to the possibilities. She wanted to deny the allure, but couldn’t. Questions raced through her to mix with the illicit intrigue. What did it feel like? How could it be pleasurable?

  A sharp pinch to her ass cheek made her jump. She tensed, but clamped her mouth shut on the instant objection that sprang up. Confusion rushed in yet again. The sting spread in hot waves over her cheek before it sunk deep. The shock of it lit up her nerve endings on a contrary note that somehow meshed with the desire already pulsing through her.

  How is that possible?

  Carson rubbed soothing strokes over Avery’s bottom until the ache morphed into want. But for what? Another bite of pain or pleasure?

  She squirmed in Carson’s arms, shoving her hips back in search of a firm touch. Would he know what she wanted when she didn’t?

  The guy slowed, landed one more hit, then stopped. The woman sagged to the table, her back heaving with each breath that matched the intense pace of the man’s. The beauty of the visual stunned Avery. There was nothing glorious about it, but she was glued to the erotic savagery of the scene.

  A low moan eased from the woman, her eyes fluttering open. Avery was trapped in the unknown once again. Desperate to know what was next, yet uncertain about what was coming.

  “Release her.” Carson’s voice broke through the room without warning.

  Two shirtless men at the opposite end of the room stepped forward to release the straps from wherever they were tied beneath the table. One had a coat of hair covering his pecs that trickled down to a thin trail that disappeared beneath the waistband of his slacks, while the other man was hair-free from his neck to his pants. Three men?

  They worked together to turn the woman over. Her soft pants peppered the air. Her eyes were closed, a flush painting her cheeks red.

  “Tie her hands over her head.”

  The two guys on the sides followed Carson’s direction without a glance their way. Carson had claimed control of the scene the second he’d stepped into the room. The power of that buzzed over Avery. He controlled them all.

  Understanding came the moment the two men stepped back to reveal the full picture of the woman on the table. Her arms were stretched over her head, wrists bound, the ends of the long straps draped over the table. Her knees were bent now, legs spread wide. Black stilettos graced her feet, which were braced on the edge of the table.

  Avery’s chest tightened, the im
age before her overlaying with the one from that first night. When she couldn’t look away.

  Oh, God. She leaned heavier into Carson, breaths shortening. Had he done this for her? The idea of that sent a wave of heat from her pussy to her breasts.

  “Make her come.”

  Avery gasped at the same time as the woman on the table. The men dipped their heads almost in unison, one on each breast, the last between her legs. Her back arched in time with her cry. It pierced the air and drove a knife of want into Avery.

  Carson slid a hand beneath the back of her dress. Heat spread when he slipped it around to cup her breast as he smoothed his other hand down to grip her mound. Her “yes” was said beneath her breath. He tugged her hard against him, his breaths ragged on her neck. His erection rode that delicious line up the curve of her ass once again. It taunted her with what he wouldn’t give her. Not here at least. But maybe later. Soon.

  God, she ached to feel him in her. She shuddered, want clenching her pussy.

  He surrounded her, his touch seemingly everywhere. On her breasts, between her legs, up her sides. Her nipples became aching buds beneath his deft fingers, each pinch a cross between too much and not enough. His breath warmed her skin as he kissed and nibbled his way over her shoulder and up her neck.

  She silently begged for him to touch her aching clit. She needed relief from the building pressure that centered beneath the sensitive nub. But he avoided it, his fingers grazing over the inside of her thigh, along the crease of her leg, the edge of her thong.

  The other woman was lost in passion, mouth parted to release an almost constant stream of moans and whimpers. Her head jerked up, eyes wide for one tense moment before she fell back, a high cry signaling her release.

  Carson penetrated Avery at that exact moment. His fingers skimmed beneath her thong to thrust deep, once, twice, again, and she almost lost it too. “Yes.” She trembled, the edge so close. If he would just touch her clit.

  “Not you,” Carson whispered. He pulled his fingers away, and she grabbed his wrist to keep his hand there. His rumbled laugh buzzed her neck before he nipped her earlobe. “Not yet.”