by Various
She lowered her forehead to his as she forced her emerald green eyes to remain open to stare deep into his. She became lost in his eyes and his body. The only sounds around them were their mutual moans and the distant sounds of traffic that was so dim it felt like it was a world away. Eventually even the traffic dimmed and it was just them.
The waves of pleasure began to come more rapidly, each one more intense. Her movements became frenzied, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she held on. He didn’t seem to notice. Each movement he pulled her down harder and tighter to him.
“Almost there?” She was. So close. She was fighting to keep from coming, wanting them to come together.
“Almost baby.” His voice was deep, feral. His body was tensing under her as he prepared.
The tension was almost too much as she increased her efforts on him. Her pussy milked his cock, begging it for his seed. And it was not to be disappointed. His eyes became so dark with need it caused her to tremble over him, on the brink.
With a low groan, he thrust up in her, meeting her downward thrust and unleashed, his seed spilling into her. She cried out, allowing her body to let go, coming with him. Exhausted and panting hard she collapsed onto him, clinging tight to his shoulders.
He groaned once more, another shot of cum filling her already full pussy. She remained on him, enjoying the heat of his body against her bare chest.
“Is there anything else?” The sound of the waiter’s voice was like tossing a bucket of ice water on her. She yelped and pressed herself tight to Graham.
“I thought you said we were perfectly alone,” she hissed in his ear, not able to bring herself to look the waiter in the face.
“We were supposed to be.”
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” The waiter stepped backward, spun around and dashed out the steel door.
Silence took over the rooftop to be broken by Graham’s soft laughter. She sat back on him, her eyes wide. “What’s so funny? He saw us,” she motioned to their still united bodies, “together.”
“I don’t think he saw much, honey.”
“I’m still embarrassed.” She could feel her cheeks burning, but his laughter was contagious. “It’s not funny,” she said, swatting at his shoulder, but found herself laughing with him.
“It kinda is.”
Still laughing she playfully growled at him and attempted to remove herself from him, but he refused to allow her to go anywhere, grabbing her ass and keeping her fully planted onto him.
She crinkled her nose up at him. “What are you doing? We should get ourselves all proper like before he comes back.” She attempted to get up again, but once again his hands on her backside kept her rooted onto him. Her wiggling had teased his cock, making him harden within her.
“I promise he won’t be, besides, I’m not near done with you Genevieve Fennel.”
She laughed, but despite her laughter she was also beginning to feel the need as his cock taunted her. “Do you ever have enough?”
“Never enough of you honey. Never enough of you.” He didn’t wait for a reply, his lips claimed hers with such passion she knew his words to be true. She realized then that he wasn’t just the safe brother; he was passionate, caring, funny… he was so much to her. More than any other man could be. She was falling unlike she’d ever fallen before and she looked forward to what the future would bring them.
###
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‘Fringe Benefits’ by Rachel Chase
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ALEXA hurried across the rain-battered parking lot, her sensible flats squelching through puddles. Hands full with takeout coffee and danish, she couldn’t shield herself from the downpour, so she kept her head down until she pushed through the front doors into CityFarm’s lobby.
The low buzz of conversation met her ears instead of the usual early-morning stillness. With a shiver, she tossed her unruly mane of dark hair back and blinked at the scene before her. Her colleagues, who should have been at their desks, were clumped in small groups around the lobby, heads together.
“Alex.” Dayna Powell, her best friend since college, broke off from one of the groups and joined her.
“Sorry I’m late. There was a long line in the drive-through, thanks to the rain.” She handed over Dayna’s coffee and pastry and lowered her voice instinctively. “What’s going on?”
“Bureaucratic coup,” Dayna said tersely.
“Here? You’re kidding.” The small nonprofit had always seemed refreshingly free of office politics; it was one of the things Alex liked best about working there. “By whom, against whom?”
“The board—without telling anyone here—appointed two outsiders as acting co-presidents.” Dayna took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”
Alex followed suit with her latte*, followed by a nibble of her bear claw. There was no point hurrying Dayna when she was in story mode.
“But that’s not the most shocking thing,” her friend continued. “You’ll never believe who they are.”
“Who?” Alex tried to think of big names in the nonprofit world who might have invaded their little organization.
“Vance Harper and Cort McCall.” From Dayna’s tone, they might have been Hollywood celebrities. Alex shrugged—who are they?—and Dayna rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You never heard of Vance Harper, the turnaround superstar of the corporate world?”
“You know business isn’t my thing, Dayna. I’m the touchy-feely communications person, not the steely-eyed CFO. And what do you mean by ‘turnaround’?”
“He specializes in taking over troubled companies and getting them back on track.”
“Companies.” The caffeine was slowly waking up Alex’s brain. “Not nonprofits.”
“Right. He’s a Fortune 500 type; he’s never had any dealings with the nonprofit world. Which, I guess, is why McCall is here.”
“And who’s he?” Alex waited for another eye roll and wasn’t disappointed.
“Cort McCall is one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. Well, both of them are, actually, but McCall’s better known outside the business world.” Dayna took another bite of her pastry as Alex shifted her feet impatiently. “He made a fortune selling his tech startup, invested it, became a gazillionaire, and now he hobnobs with the beautiful people and supports his favorite causes.”
“But he doesn’t actually run anything, he just gives them money?”
“Exactly,” Dayna said. “So Harper has the managerial know-how, and McCall has the cash. But why the two of them picked CityFarms—and how they got the board to go along—I have no clue.”
Alex scanned the lobby. People stood a bit too close together, shoulders hunched forward. A protective stance—but of each other, not just themselves. It didn’t take her long to spot who was missing. “Where’s Sylvia?”
“She’s in with them now. They’re going to meet with each of us individually.” Dayna’s expression was grim, her dark eyes troubled. “That’s about all they said before they took over her office and kicked her out, then called her back in a minute later.”
“Ouch.” Alex winced in sympathy and took another gulp of her latte.* “I don’t suppose they’re going to entertain the idea of a third co-president.”
“Not likely.”
Neither woman said what both were thinking. And what about the rest of us?
The longer she stood in the lobby, the more exposed Alex felt. She was about to suggest they go back to their desks when shouts came from the direction of Sylvia’s office. A moment later, her door was flung open, hitting the wall with a bang that reverberated through the small building.
“You will hear from me, you assholes! I’m going to sue you both for everything you have. You’ll be sorry you ever came here.”
Sylvia Kleipas rushed into the lobby. Her face was blotchy, her normally im
maculate makeup smeared. A large tote bag overflowing with hastily-packed belongings hung from one hand.
A murmur ran through the lobby; Sylvia always seemed perfectly poised and in control. The distraught woman ignoring her colleagues’ outstretched arms was scarcely recognizable as the same person. Without another word, she shoved open the front doors and was gone.
Stunned, the rest of the staff turned in unison toward her office. A man stood there in the open doorway. He wore an immaculately tailored suit, dark like his hair and eyes. His imperious gaze traveled from one anxious face to the next, unhurried, until he reached Alex.
Her heart jolted. Even from across the room, the power he radiated seemed to summon her. Unbidden, images flashed through her mind: kneeling at his feet while he unzipped his pants. Kneeling on a bed as he approached her from behind. Rolling with him in satin sheets. Spreading her legs as he rose over her.
Then he spoke, and the moment shattered. “It would probably be best,” he said, “if you all did whatever work you can while you wait your turn.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he hadn’t just reduced the unflappable, ladylike Sylvia to tears and profanity. He shut the door without another word.
Alex’s skin was tight and prickly. Her nipples ached. “Which one was that?” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Vance Harper,” Dayna muttered. “Bastard.”
Alex didn’t reply. The remaining employees filed out of the lobby toward their desks, and she followed, still shaken.
Vance Harper might be a bastard, but he was by far the hottest man she’d ever seen.
*****
“That went well,” Harper said to his friend.
Cort McCall stretched out his long legs, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. “We did drop a bomb on her.”
“More than one,” Vance said. “But there was no other way to do it without compromising our position.”
“We agreed going in.” Cort held his hands up in mock surrender. “Charities and nonprofits are my specialty, and running stuff is yours. You ought to open up your own firm. Crisis Consulting, Incorporated: We’ll Fix Your Business Whether You Like it or Not.”
Vance’s mind flashed back to the brunette in the lobby. I’d like to fix her business, all right. He’d always had a weakness for curves.
“Hello, earth to Harper.”
“Sorry.” Vance shook off the fantasy that tried to take root in his mind. No point wanting a woman who was going to hate him before the day was out, if she didn’t already. “Next up is John Harold, Vice President for Operations,” he said. There was a list of names on his desk, but he knew them all by heart. “I suggest we meet with all the employees before deciding which, if any, we want to ask to stay on for a few days during the transition.”
“Sounds good,” Cort said. “What are we looking for in potential transition assistants?”
“Someone who has a good grasp of the ins and outs here, but who can set aside this initial unpleasantness and work with us.” Vance dipped his hands in his pockets, pacing across the office and back. “They don’t have to love us, or even like us; they just need the integrity to tell us the truth without any bullshit, for the sake of getting the nonprofit back on track.”
Cort shot him a skeptical look. “And if we don’t find this paragon of sacrificial virtue?”
“There are other ways of getting the information we need.” Vance shrugged. “It’ll just take longer.”
*****
As one person after another made the trek to the new presidents’ office, word filtered quickly through the ranks: fired. Effectively immediately. The only thing that cushioned the blow was the three months’ severance pay, with full health coverage, that each of them were receiving.
It was incredibly generous by corporate standards, let alone in the nonprofit sector. But it still left a building full of people with nowhere to go the next day.
Alex, like most of her coworkers, started collecting her personal items and deleting anything non-work-related off her computer. Nonprofit employment wasn’t that easy to come by in the small city of Dalton; she might have to consider relocating. Not that working for another nonprofit was a necessity, but she’d always liked knowing her job was about more than a paycheck.
Her hard copy files were a bit of a mess. With almost everything being stored digitally these days, and she’d never gotten around to organizing them. Determined not to leave any loose ends behind her, Alex spread manila folders across her desk and dove in.
One moment, she was absorbed in her project; the next, the top of her scalp started to tingle, as if someone had aimed a nice warm heat lamp at it.
“Ms. Knight.”
Her head snapped up. Vance Harper stood a few feet away, his handsome face impassive, eyeing her and the chaos on her desk. Alex felt her cheeks flame. “I was just tidying up,” she said lamely.
“Mm. If you would, please.” He gestured toward Sylvia’s—his—office.
Self-conscious, Alex stood too quickly and banged her thigh against the edge of her desk. “Ow. Shit! Sorry.” She rubbed the spot and shot Mr. Harper an apologetic look. He didn’t respond, just waited, and irritation pricked along the back of Alex’s neck. Just because he was firing them all, he didn’t have to be a jerk about it.
She preceded him down the passageway, and got that same warm tingle on her ass that she’d felt on her head a few moments ago. Great—now she was hallucinating, or projecting, or whatever. Vance Harper was very rich; Alex had spent a couple of minutes on some fast-and-dirty research. Women probably threw themselves at his feet wherever he went. No way was he checking out her big fat butt.
The door to the office stood open, but Alex paused on the threshold, not wanting to be presumptuous. “Go on in, Ms. Knight,” Mr. Harper said from right behind her. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him, warm and resonant.
His breath stirred the hair by her ear. Her nipples went hard; muscles tightened low in her belly. Alex scooted into the office as if she were rocket-propelled—and stopped so suddenly that Mr. Harper almost ran into her, the heat of his body tangible even through two layers of clothing.
The other man in the office rose from the couch where he’d been sitting. “Alexa Knight? I’m Cort McCall.”
Holy heavens. How could there possibly be two of them? Mr. McCall was sexy in an entirely different way from Mr. Harper, but damn. They were like a pair of fallen angels: one all golden seduction, the other all dark dominance.
And where had that thought come from?
A bit dazed, Alex took the proffered hand. Energy sparked between them, running up her arm and then down through every inch of her body. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Gently, she drew her hand free. McCall was giving her an odd look. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and cursed inwardly. Her voice was low and husky, nothing like its usual sound—but of course they didn’t know that. Alex did, though, and cleared her throat to avoid a repeat performance.
“Please, have a seat.” McCall gestured toward the sofa he’d just vacated. The cushions would still be warm from his body. Two office chairs stood adjacent to the couch; they would sit there, the men, and the three of them would have a nice little chat about firing Alex while her panties got damp.
Harper was still behind her. Too close, they were both too close. She’d never responded to any man like this, let alone two of them, and she was going to make a fool of herself unless she got away from them.
Alex cleared her throat again. “You, uh, won’t be surprised to hear that everyone’s been talking, so all of us pretty much know the score already. So unless you had something different to say to me, you know, than everyone else, I can just save you the time.”
McCall’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, and she could almost hear the unspoken conversation between him and Harper. “Just a few quick questions, if you don’t mind,” said the dark angel at her back.
“Sure. Fine.” She sidestepped, avoiding contact w
ith McCall, and plopped down on the couch. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could stop fantasizing about two men at the same time.
What on earth was wrong with her?
*****
Vance willed his cock to behave. He’d gotten hard as a rock watching Alexa’s delectably round ass undulate toward the office. Those fawn-colored slacks weren’t her color, of course, but they’d given him a hell of a view. Damn, he wanted to bend her over the desk right now.
He pulled his chair just a bit farther away from her before he sat down, as if that would tame his thoughts. “You’re the communications director for CityFarms, is that right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him, then away, barely meeting his eyes. Everyone they’d talked to had been on edge, which was entirely understandable given the circumstances. Her nervousness, though, had a flavor to it that made Vance need to adjust his pants again.
“And how long have you held that position?” Cort said, picking up the loosely structured back-and-forth pattern of questioning they’d agreed on. They already knew the answers to almost every question they’d asked today. How people answered them was just as important, for their purposes, as what they said.
“I’ve only been the director for a year and a half. But I’ve worked in the communications department the whole time I’ve been here.” Her response was immediate, fluid, unforced. Neither her voice or her body language betrayed any hint of strain or deception.
No, it wasn’t the loss of her job that had her worried. Interesting that Alexa found him—or them—more disturbing than imminent unemployment.
“Would you say you have a good grasp of everything that goes on here?” he asked.
“Well, no. I mean, finance is not really my thing. All the number-crunching stuff.” Her gaze skimmed over to Cort, taking in his appearance at a glance, and the hint of a smile played at one corner of her mouth.
“What?” McCall said, in that irresistible way he had. Alexa half-shrugged one shoulder, looking bashful. “No, tell me,” he insisted. “It’s all right.”
