by Ivy Nelson
She tangled her fingers in his hair as he devoured her.
It was well past dinnertime before they left the bedroom. Lance gave her a robe to wear and nothing else while he slipped on a pair of boxers and together, they walked down to the kitchen. His housekeeper had come in during their flight and prepped a few meals for them, so he pulled one out and followed the simple reheating instructions.
As they ate, her phone sounded an alert. That's odd, she thought as she went to pick it up. That alert had been set for a few notifications only and none of them were good.
"Well fuck me running," she muttered as she read the alert on her screen.
"What is it?" Lance asked. His rigid abs nearly distracted as he walked toward her.
She blinked and shook her head. "It's Sebastian Forcythe. The bastard got out of prison early. They turned him loose yesterday."
She handed him the phone so he could read the notice.
"Son of a bitch. You think that's why there was an uptick in chatter in that forum?"
Her head bobbed up and down. "I would almost guarantee it. From the looks of his release, it wasn't conditional on anything and he's not on parole or probation so he would have typical access to computers."
Lance swore. "OK. I guess we need to be on hyper alert then."
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I need to go make some phone calls. Will you be OK on your own?"
She stood on her tip toes and wrapped both arms around his neck. "I'll be fine. Let me know if you need me to do anything tonight."
He gave her a thumbs up and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom to get dressed. A few minutes later, she heard him shut himself in his home office.
She showed herself around the place to see if anything had changed in the five years since she'd last been here. Lance had tried to get her to make changes to the decor, but she insisted it was fine the way it was. To be honest, she'd never understood decorations and would be happy to let a professional handle it when she opened her own company.
As she walked into his library, she smiled as she remembered a particularly... educational evening she'd shared with Lance in this room.
It had started with an argument about encryption and ended with him proving her wrong while he fucked her from behind and she read aloud from the book that settled their argument.
She hated being wrong, but she loved the consequences.
Despite the fact that they'd spent the entire day—hell, the entire weekend—making love, desire still filled her as she relived the sequence.
♦♦♦♦
Lance sat in his office and tried to breathe as he dialed the next number. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was desperately wrong. He just wasn't sure how to address it.
"Lance, what's going on?" Elijah Barrett said a few seconds later.
"Has Holly been to visit her dad yet?"
Elijah groaned. "Not yet. Why?"
"Sebastian Forcythe got out of prison early. I'm struggling to understand why and the only thing I can think of is that someone with some clout pulled some strings. Despite his conviction, I think it's safe to say Nicholas Sutton has that clout."
Elijah was quiet for a moment. "You're right," he finally agreed. "I'll talk to her tonight and we'll arrange something for this week. How are you doing? Does Solitaire have anything to worry about?"
Lance tossed a rubber stress ball back and forth in his hands.
"I think we need to be cautious. Marissa is keeping an eye on things while I keep an eye on Moss Tech. It definitely feels like this is not over though."
Eli agreed. "I'll call you as soon as Holly visits her dad. When are you going back to Colorado?"
"Riss and I will leave around lunch on Thursday unless something happens."
"I saw the tail end of your scene on Friday night. Looks like you two are really patching things up."
Lance smiled at his friend's nosiness. "For now. We're still working through some things, but I definitely have a positive feeling about our relationship."
They made small talk for a few more minutes until Eli said Holly was on the other line. "I'll keep you posted, OK?"
Lance agreed and they said goodbye. He stood and went in search of his girl. He found her in the library, laying on the sofa with a hand between her thighs.
"Am I not satisfying you, love?" he murmured as he stood in the door and watched her fingers flutter over her silky pussy.
Her eyes flew open and she pulled her hand away.
"Sorry," she whispered, staring up at him.
He strolled into the room, keeping his hands in his pockets. "Don't stop on my account," he said, dropping onto the ottoman that sat in front of the couch.
"In fact, I insist that you continue."
He watched with amusement as her face turned red with embarrassment. But she pleased him when her thighs spread wider and her fingers splayed over her sensitive cunt once more.
He wanted to reach out and help her, but watching her play with herself was mesmerizing, so he resisted and kept his hands pressed to the ottoman.
When her occasional whimper turned into a full blown, never ending moan, he reached out and trailed a hand up her bare thigh.
"Keep going, love," he crooned gently.
God, he'd missed having her in his house this way. During their four-year relationship he'd fucked her on a number of surfaces throughout the place and the memories haunted him often. He looked forward to creating new ones with her. He especially wanted to erase the memory of her last night here before they broke up. The night he'd called the fucking cops like a moron. He shook his head and tried to focus on the beauty before him. Going down that path wouldn't be doing either of them any favors. Though in the back of his mind, even as his fingers traced silk smooth skin and urged her on, he knew they would have to face that night sometime or they were doomed to fail again.
When she drew one knee up and her toes curled in, he knew she was getting close. He nudged the ottoman nearer to the sofa and bent to kiss her deeply, swallowing the loud cry of pleasure as the orgasm careened through her. Her body bucked against the couch and she lifted one arm, snaking it around his neck, deepening their kiss.
"Take me to your bed," she pleaded.
He stood and pulled her up with him, dragging her to the bedroom where he ravaged her body once more, not caring that he'd bruised and marked her all weekend long. Claiming her as his wasn't enough. He needed to fucking devour her.
♦♦♦♦
The next morning, Marissa sat in her temporary office at Moss Tech, reviewing his client list. They were going to attempt to come up with the most likely target for another attack—and there would be another attack—so they could put teams on constant monitoring and shoring up the security. Lance had grown his company to enough clients that it was impossible to give that kind of treatment to every one of them. There had been a blanket raising of security, but they knew they had to figure out where the attack would come from and put their biggest efforts there.
She was working with the two women who'd worked with her the previous week along with two other department heads, both male, who seemed to have questions about her presence at Moss Tech.
She, in turn, questioned theirs. Feeling irritated by their attitude toward her, she pulled out her phone and sent Lance a text.
Did you know of all your lead developers and department managers, only two are women?
He didn't respond right away so she went back to the work at hand. Fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed.
I'll be honest, it hadn't occurred to me. That's problematic. I'm sorry.
She smiled. Admitting a shortcoming wasn't easy for Lance. She tapped out one more text before focusing on the job at hand.
Don't apologize, just promise you'll do something to fix it. I've got ideas we can discuss at lunch.
Three hours later, one of the department heads hinted that it was lunchtime, so she dismissed everyone and leaned back in her chair. Working on programming a
nd tech again was a dream come true, but she hated that she wasn't doing it for her own company. Did she really want to go back to work for Lance? Deep down, she knew the answer was no. At the same time, she didn't want to be in competition with Lance either. The phone on her desk rang and she frowned. There was no reason for anyone to be calling her here. Then she spotted the caller ID screen on the cradle and grinned.
"Good afternoon, Moss Tech," she said in a sultry, breathless voice.
"You have ten minutes to meet me in the ninth-floor stairwell, Miss Sullivan," Lance growled in her ear.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Moss. I have a lunch engagement," she teased.
"Ten minutes, Marissa. If you're late, I'll punish you."
Then the line went dead, and Marissa stared at the phone. Did she want to test him? She glanced at the clock and dialed a number.
Dr. Hoffman answered on the third ring.
"Is everything OK, Marissa?" the kind doctor asked.
"All good. I was calling to see if you could squeeze me and possibly Lance in for an appointment this week."
"Let me transfer you to my receptionist and she'll make it work."
"Shit. Sorry. I should have just called the office phone."
The therapist waved away her concerns and transferred her. As she walked down the hall to the elevators, she confirmed an appointment for that evening and hoped she could convince Lance to join her.
She pressed the button for the eleventh floor, figuring she could walk down the last two floors.
When she stepped off the elevator, she glanced at her smart watch. She needed to run if she were going to make it on time. Though part of her was tempted to see just how Lance would punish her if she were late. Her heart raced as she pushed through the stairwell door and began her descent to the ninth floor. Why the ninth floor, she wondered. Lance's office was at the top of the building and as far as she knew, the ninth floor wasn't even part of his company.
Lance leaned against the wall as she approached the door for the ninth floor. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. He wore a deep green button-up shirt tucked into midnight black pants. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands were stuffed casually into his pockets as he watched her approach. He'd taken off the tie she'd watched him knot this morning. He never had liked ties and only wore them when he was meeting with an important client.
"God, you're fucking hot," she blurted as he pulled one hand out of his pocket and offered it to her. His gaze was smoldering as it raked her body and for a moment, she felt naked as his lust washed over her.
Before she knew what was happening, he pushed her beneath the stairs and crushed his lips to hers.
He hiked her skirt up around her waist and she protested. "Lance. Stop. People might see."
He nipped at her neck and cupped her pussy over her panties.
"Relax. This floor is closed off right now for some construction. Nobody is coming this way. Now be a good girl and let me fuck you."
She swallowed. They'd never fucked at work before. But she was his, and she wanted to prove that, so she nodded her consent.
"Turn and face the stairs and put your arms above your head, kitten," he purred in her ear as he stepped a short distance from her. When she did as he asked, he settled his hands on her hips and shoved her until she stood closer to the railing. One hand left her, and she heard the rustle of his pants as he pushed a hand into his pocket. His hand came around and he dangled his tie in front of her face. Was he going to tie her up? Her pulse pounded in her throat as he captured her wrists and bound them together. Then he lowered her arms and ordered her to bend at the waist. Soon, he'd attached the free ends of the tie to the railing, knotting it so she couldn't move far.
At a snail pace, he dragged her panties down her thighs and ran a finger up her seam. "I'm definitely instituting a no panties at work rule, Miss Sullivan," he murmured as he palmed her ass.
She heard the faint sound of his zipper and soon felt the head of his cock pressed against her folds. She gripped the tie as he plowed into her.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but he wrenched a hand into her hair and tugged. "Nobody can hear you, Marissa. Don't you dare hold back."
A gasp left her lips as he let go of her hand and found her clit. She cried out as he fucked her hard and fast, reveling in his ownership of her body. "God, Lance, please," she begged, barely recognizing her own voice.
"Please what? Stop? Fuck you harder? Let you come?" he ground out as his fingers worked her clit and his cock dragged in and out of her cunt.
"Yes," she pleaded, unsure how to answer him.
He chuckled. "Come for me. Let your tight little cunt come all over my cock."
She felt her nipples straining against her bra and blouse and her pussy clenched around his rigid shaft. A few more harsh strokes of his nimble fingers and she was crashing over the edge. His poor tie was going to be useless from all her wrenching against it. She felt Lance tense behind her and knew he was going to come. "God, baby," he breathed as he lost himself inside of her.
When he stilled and eased out of her, she was still panting. She barely noticed when he untied her hands and helped her stand.
Her panties were around her ankles and she could feel his hot semen dripping down her thighs.
He pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped at her folds. She shuddered at the feel of the silk cloth brushing against her. When she was clean, he reached down and tugged her panties up and back into place.
"Shall we go to lunch, Miss Sullivan?" he said as he tossed the ruined handkerchief into a nearby trashcan and shoved his tie back into his pocket.
She grinned as he laced his fingers into hers and led her through a construction zone to the elevator down to the first floor where his driver was waiting to take them to lunch.
20
Marissa paced the top floor of Lance's office building on Tuesday evening, waiting for him to finish a conference call.
He'd agreed to go to her therapy session with her, but now Marissa was having second thoughts. What if this was a terrible mistake? The last couple of days with him had been... incredible and exhausting. She didn't want to ruin what they were currently enjoying by digging into their pasts. But she knew it was necessary. Might as well get it over with. Or something like that.
His door opened and her pulse quickened as it always did when he walked into a room these days.
She licked her lips and gave him a bright smile, hoping to mask her nerves. He crossed to where she stood and pulled her to him. Despite her protests, he didn't seem shy about displays of affection in the office.
"You seem tense," he said as he pulled away and cupped her jaw.
"I'm fucking terrified," she admitted. "But let's get this over with."
He stayed where he was, his thumb caressing her cheek.
"You sure? We can always reschedule."
She shook her head. "The longer we put it off, the harder this will be."
He brushed wayward strands of hair away from her face. "Let's go then. Car should be downstairs."
"I notice you drive yourself in Colorado," she murmured as they walked toward the elevator.
He nodded. "It's a stress reliever. I would drive more here if traffic weren't so fucked."
Marissa preferred taking public transportation. People liked to complain about it, but she enjoyed the people watching.
Lance must have already given the driver the address for the therapist's office because he pulled into traffic and headed in the right direction without a word to either of them.
Lance kept an arm around her shoulders as they rode through the city. It was rush hour, so they'd left a full hour before their appointment, despite the office being just a few miles from Lance's building. When they walked into the small office, Lance folded himself into one of the undersized waiting room chairs and motioned for her to perch on his knee. She shook her head and dropped into the chair beside him.
"Anything off limits for tonight?" he aske
d, touching his hand to her thigh.
She looked at the ceiling and thought about his question.
"I can't think of anything. But Dr. Hoffman is good about spotting things I'm not ready to talk about yet, so she'll be there to guide our conversation."
He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. A curse left his lips, and he shifted, pulling his phone from his pocket. Standing, he pushed out of the compact waiting room into the hallway. She watched him pace and talk.
As he did, the receptionist leaned around her partition.
"Miss Sullivan? Dr. Hoffman is ready for you now." Marissa nodded. "Give me just a sec please."
She stood and stuck her head out the door. "Doctor is ready," she whispered.
He turned and gave her an apologetic smile, holding up one finger.
He nodded his head to whoever was talking, as if they could see him. His hand covered the mouthpiece of the phone.
"Go on in. I'll be right there, I promise."
She eyed him skeptically. This wouldn't be the first time work had pulled him away from an important conversation.
He blew her a kiss and waved her back into the office. Reluctantly, she stepped through the door and headed to the inner office where her therapist was waiting.
"Dr. Hoffman, good to see you again. Lance just had to take a phone call. He'll be right in."
Her therapist gave her a warm smile and motioned for her to sit on the long sofa.
"Tell me how you've been while we wait."
As she opened her mouth to speak, a knock sounded, and Lance pushed the door open.
"Sorry about that," he said as he stepped in.
Marissa felt a weight lift off her chest as he settled onto the couch beside her.
"Mr. Moss, I'm Dr. Hoffman. Thank you for joining us today. I know you're busy."
The threesome made small talk for a minute or two before the therapist picked up her tablet and crossed her legs at the ankles.
"Marissa, let's talk about why we're here. You and Lance have a past. A past that ultimately drove you to seek me out. What are you hoping to accomplish tonight?"
