Boardroom Sins

by J. Margot Critch

  His hand rested on the nape of her neck, his fingers curling into her hair, feeling the muscles in her mouth and throat cradling him, pressing against him, sucking, drawing every ounce of pleasure from him. He moaned again. His hand smoothed over her shoulders, then back down the material of her sensible knee-length dress, coming to rest on her ass. As long as he didn’t need to shift gears, he could keep one hand on the wheel and the other on her. He squeezed his fist in her hair as she pulled back up over him, withdrawing him from her mouth with a quiet pop. With her tongue, she licked him in several long strokes before taking him fully into her mouth again. Rebecca went to work in earnest, her head bobbing up and down. Overcome with the feeling of desire, he quickened his breathing, and from the way his balls tightened, he knew he was close.

  “Becca,” he breathed. “I’m going to come. Oh, shit. Rebecca, you have to stop.”

  “Mmm.” She hummed in response, her mouth currently too full to speak.

  Thankfully, he recognized her old house, and he pulled into the driveway, just as his orgasm overtook him. With one final squeeze of her lips and a stroke of her tongue, he came with a shout and slammed the brakes. He flexed his hips upward, coming in her mouth with heavy spurts of hard liquid. The motion of the muscles in her throat told him she’d swallowed every drop of him as he spasmed with release, and he groaned in relief as he wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.

  His grip on the back of her neck loosened, and she sat up, coyly swiping her finger along the edge of her mouth before closing her lips over a cherry-red fingernail.

  He’d just come but he needed her again, and he turned off the engine and moved to get out of the car.

  “Wait, where are you going?” she asked him.

  “Inside with you. We’re not done here yet.”

  “No, Brett, we are.”

  He blinked. “But what about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said coolly. “I’ve got a vibrator if I need it.”

  “Rebecca...” he implored her, trying to get the image of her using the toy on herself out of his head. “Let me come in. I’ll show you a good time.”

  She shook her head, dismissing him. “Don’t worry about it. I never want to feel like I owe you anything. But I want you to know something. That will be the last thing you get from me.” With a slick smile, she got out of the car and walked into her house without looking back.

  * * *

  Once inside, Rebecca could finally take a breath. She walked up the stairs to her bedroom and wasted no time stripping out of her dress, bra, stockings and drenched panties, and she put on a short silk robe. A needy, unsatisfied mess, she went back downstairs and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the bar, opened it and poured, half filling the glass. She pulled back and shrugged before pouring more, filling the glass to the rim.

  With shaking hands, she brought the glass to her lips and gulped. But it was no use. She could still taste him over the profile of the expensive wine. The upper hand she believed that she had with Brett was short-lived, as she felt a white-hot need for him course through her body. Based on what she’d overheard from Brett’s side of the conversation he’d had on his phone, and everything she knew about Brett’s desire to win, she knew that he had invited her out to seduce her, distract her, and her attempts to turn the tables had left him breathless. But she knew she would have to take care of her own need, and soon; and she’d have to every other time she thought of him.

  She headed back up the stairs to bed but got only halfway there before the doorbell rang. Stopping, she turned and went to the door. She looked through the peephole and saw Brett standing on the other side. He stood in profile, looking off to the distance, his hands on his hips. He looked frustrated, annoyed, and when he looked back to the door, it was as if he could look right into her eyes through the peephole, and she was surprised that the heat didn’t melt the glass.

  She pulled open the door and he was inside in an instant, his arms around her, his fingers grasping, holding her tighter, his mouth hot and crushing against hers. His kiss might have been violent if it hadn’t been so full of passion. His lips were hard and demanding against hers, parting hers, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth, finding her tongue, sliding and stroking against hers. She let a moan escape from her throat and into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound and held her tighter, lifting her so that her feet didn’t touch the floor.

  He tore his mouth away from hers and attacked her throat with similar vigor, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of her exposed throat. He only then seemed to realize that she was wearing nothing but the small robe, and he pulled the material aside, exposing her shoulder and, in the process, loosening the knot of the belt, opening the robe and revealing her breasts.

  “Brett,” she breathed, unable to say much else.

  “Don’t say anything,” he said. “I just want one more night with you.”

  “Okay.” One more night. She could do that. It was what she wanted, too. One night together, and then they could go back to their regular lives as competitors, rivals, enemies. Just one more night of passion. It had been a long time promised, and nothing was going to stop her. Not family or business loyalty, not her common sense. She wanted one more night with Brett. Then she could put it behind her, and she could save her family’s company from his greedy hands.

  But, oh, those hands...

  Brett’s eyes flamed and, still holding her aloft, he ducked his head and captured the rosy bud of her nipple between his lips, sucking, nibbling, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to her wanting sex. He stayed with her. His tongue swirled over her nipple and she clutched his head, her fingers fisting into his hair. She cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist, shamelessly pushing her pussy against him, and she moaned again, frustrated that rubbing against him did nothing to alleviate the sharp need within her.

  With a groan, Brett pulled his head away from her breast and looked up at her. “Bedroom?”

  “Upstairs,” she breathed. “At the end of the hall.”

  Still carrying her, he walked up the staircase to the second floor, all the while placing kisses on her neck and shoulders, licking, nipping her skin with his teeth, tasting her.

  When he crossed the threshold into her room, she reached out and turned on the light. The dimmer cast a golden glow across the room, and he saw her bed, huge, high, pristine with a white duvet. “Do you realize that this is the first time I’ll fuck you on a bed?”

  “Does it not work for you?”

  “Hell, no. This works very well.”

  * * *

  Brett let Rebecca slide down to the floor, and when she stood, he leaned over her and took her mouth with his again. He ripped the robe from Rebecca’s body, let it fall. While their tongues and lips danced together, she busied her fingers, tackling his shirt buttons. Impatient, he pushed her hands away and opened it himself. She sat back on the middle of the bed and watched him as he pulled his open shirt from the waist of his pants. In the center of her bed, her hands fisted in the white covering as she watched him undo his belt and whip it from the loops of his pants. He caught the rise and fall of her chest as she refused to take her eyes from his form. Feeling cocky, he paused at the top button of his pants. “Like what you see?” he asked with a smile.

  In response, Rebecca placed her palms on her thighs and slid them upward, spreading her legs and revealing herself to him. His smile dropped when one hand toyed with her small triangle of light hair and her fingers dipped between her glistening folds. “You like what you see?”

  A growl rose from his chest and he fumbled with his zipper without looking away from her. As she played with herself, he quickly shucked his pants and kicked out of them before joining her in the center of the bed.

  Brett knelt between her thighs, leaning over her, and grasped her wrist. His hand circling hers, he brought her f
ingers to his lips. He drew them inside, sucking them into his mouth. Her flavor was sweet and potent on his tongue, and he wanted more. But before he went further, he took another look at her. Rebecca was beautiful, disheveled. A flush covered her chest, and she watched him through heavy eyelids. His dick nudged against her inner thigh, so close to that delicious pussy. It would be so easy to pull her close and take her right then and there.

  He wanted it. Needed it. But first, he needed to taste her. He eyed her as he went lower, dragging his tongue down her trim stomach, until he reached the apex of her thighs, bringing his face only a breath away from her glistening pussy.

  Using two fingers, he parted her sweet lips, diving into her heat. She was molten, wet and ready. Her breath was shallow and she stilled, waiting for his next move. The small, swollen bud of her clit called out to him, and he obliged, moving over her, flattening his tongue against it as it throbbed.

  She cried out softly as he touched it, staying still for a moment before flicking it again with the tip of his tongue. Rebecca bucked her hips against his mouth. And he parted his lips and closed them over her. His eyes closed in delicious satisfaction. He tasted her, and she was sweeter than he remembered. He heard her moans as he washed his tongue over her again and again.

  Rebecca’s hands found his head, and she pulled at his hair. It was painful, but he barely felt it. He was so intent on bringing her pleasure and taking his own by feasting from her that he barely noticed how she pulled on him. He used his fingers to spread her moisture around her, and from the way she yelled out and thrust her hips at him, he knew that she was close to coming. He grinned to himself and put one finger inside her; she tightened around him, and then he inserted another. It was all she needed. She arched and bucked against him, calling out as her orgasm racked through her body. He held her until her movements quieted and she regained her breath.

  With a smug smile, he climbed back over her. His mouth still wet with her, he kissed her, knowing that she could taste herself on his lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, driving against hers. “You ready for more?”

  “There’s more?”

  “You better believe it.” He looked over at the bedside table. “Condoms in there?” She nodded. He broke away from her and reached inside to pluck out a condom, then ripped it open with his teeth. He shucked his boxers, and when his cock sprang free, her eyes widened. With a chuckle, he fisted his length and gave a couple of lazy pumps.

  She licked her lips, and not taking his eyes from those plump lips, he rolled the latex over his length. Then, grabbing her by the waist, Brett quickly, roughly flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up so that she knelt in front of him but kept her face in her pillow. With his knee, he nudged the inside of her smooth thigh, and she parted her legs obediently. He smiled and drew back his hand, bringing it across her ass with a loud slap. She jumped at the contact, and he smiled. He reached out and cupped her near-hairless pussy with his hand. He could feel her still-swollen flesh and her moisture on his fingers.

  He resumed his position behind her, and without wasting any time, he pushed into her. He was rough, too rough, too demanding. But her groans of pleasure told him she needed this, too. He took everything from her that he wanted. But he didn’t think that he would ever get enough. His fingers dug into her flesh and she fisted the blankets as his hips pistoned back and forth, in and out of her. She met each of his thrusts with a passion and ferocity that matched his own.

  Through his loud grunts and groans, he could hear her cries. They were wild, barely human, just animals, and the only thing he could think about was bringing them both to release. He looked to his left and saw their reflection in the large mirror of her closet door. He saw each of his muscles tensing as he moved in and out of her, and he saw the arch of her back and the lines of her body. He watched in the mirror as he raised his hand and smacked her ass again. Rebecca screamed again, but she sped up her motions, bringing her hips back to meet his. He put a hand on her hip, another on her shoulder, and continued to drive into her. The hand on her hip dropped lower and to the front, and he found her clit. He spread her moisture around her, and he pulled her up so that her back, slick with sweat, was flush with his chest. Her cries were loud, growing louder by the second, and he knew she was close. He was, too. He kept pace until she stiffened in his arms and cried out her release, and then he let himself go. He came with a rush as his orgasm hit him, and he emptied inside her with a loud groan before they both tumbled onto the mattress.

  Brett tried to catch his breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. Being with Rebecca again was more incredible than he remembered. She was as beautiful as she’d been five years ago. He watched her splayed out next to him, coming down from her orgasm, and his mind flashed to that night in college when he’d talked about high school and his issues with addiction. Something had been freed within him that night, and he’d told her. But instead of making him feel at peace, it had opened him up to vulnerability. And vulnerability would be his downfall.

  He didn’t have time for analyzing his past, or the fact that after she’d gone off to New York, he’d been in the city and almost looked her up. But he hadn’t. He had to focus on the present. And in the present, he had work to do.

  The haze of his orgasm had cleared. Reality came crashing back. He’d had a moment of weakness, and now that his libido and his dick had been sufficiently taken care of, it was time to look after his livelihood. That was enough of a distraction. Thoughts of work overtook him as he remembered everything that was at stake. He tensed; he had to get out of there. He had to force her away from him. It was the only way.

  He pushed himself up from the bed and disposed of the condom in a nearby trash can. “That was great,” he said, looking away from her, gathering his clothes. He pulled on his boxers and followed up with his pants. “Thanks.”

  “You’re leaving?” she asked him, sitting up on the bed.

  “Yeah, you didn’t expect me to stick around and cuddle, did you?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.

  She paused. Her eyebrows pinched together and a frown formed on her lips as she watched him get dressed. “I guess not.”

  “Becca—”

  “Rebecca,” she corrected him, a hard edge to her voice. She crossed her arms across her perfect breasts.

  “Rebecca,” he said. “Let’s not make this any more than it is, okay? Why complicate things?” He looked away from her, because if he didn’t, he knew he’d be gone. That he would slide back into bed with her. But he had to force himself to remember that he wasn’t there to play nice. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He’d gone back to her house to fulfill a biological urge, and that was it. They couldn’t have whatever it was they’d had before. Not after everything that had happened between them.

  Her smile was humorless. “No, you’re right. This—whatever this is—shouldn’t be any more complicated than it already is.”

  “It was fun, though, wasn’t it? But I’ve got to get back home. Get some sleep. I’ve got an early rise tomorrow.”

  “Fine. Go.”

  He hesitated, for just a moment. “Is this going to be a big deal?” he asked.

  “No, of course not,” she said, standing. She grasped her robe and put it on, tightening the belt. “It’s just sex. Not like we haven’t done it before.” She shrugged and walked into the en suite bathroom. “You know your way out.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  REBECCA POURED A mug of coffee and sat at the large table in the breakfast nook off the kitchen. Her father’s house. He’d left it to her after his death, and while she’d redecorated some, the house still held much of her father’s presence, like the old beat-up recliner that must have been over thirty years old. The brown leather was tattered, in need of repair, and in no way matched the gray furniture she’d bought, nor the yellow accents that brightened up the TV room. But she couldn’t part with it. Nor could she move the reading gl
asses that he always seemed to fall asleep wearing while he watched the game or read the paper. They were still in their usual position on the end table near the right arm of the chair, easily within his reach.

  Her father’s absence caused an ache in her chest, and she knew that if he was still alive, he would know exactly how to deal with Collins/Fischer and the takeover bid. But he was gone. It was up to her, and she knew that she would be successful. It was her only option.

  If only she could forget about her attraction to Brett and focus on the task at hand. She shook her head, reached for her coffee again and opened her laptop. She turned the computer on, and she was immediately greeted by her financial management program. She clicked over into the RMD page. Her original ownership in the company had grown in the past few days. She had finally dipped into the trust fund that she hadn’t touched since she was twenty-one and started contacting shareholders on behalf of the secret holdings company that her father had created for her.

  In order to keep Daniels International from the clutch of Brett’s fingers and from falling under the umbrella of The Brotherhood, Rebecca had decided to use her own money to buy up shares in her own company. But she had to do it without Brett’s knowing it was her. If he didn’t know her plans, then he couldn’t stop her. And it was working. She’d made a gain on shares of Daniels International, offering above Brett’s asking price to people willing to sell them. Collins/Fischer still owned more than she did, but she’d managed to stall their progress by also offering a higher return on dividends in exchange. That would also cost her a pile of money, and she knew that her money manager probably wouldn’t approve. But it was something she had to do to save the family business.