Cruise Control

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Oh—you two know each other already?” Maxine asked, curiosity sending her gaze zinging back and forth between them.

  Why couldn’t the ground open up and swallow her? Anna was painfully aware of everything about him, from the woody scent of his aftershave to the way the hair curled over his ears, and the fact that he had a faint after-five stubble darkening his jaw. He stood squarely, looking supremely relaxed, easily dominating their small circle with his presence, and she shot him a desperate look before answering Maxine’s question.

  “Marc used to be one of my clients,” she said, taking a bracing mouthful of her champagne.

  “Used to be? Have I been blackballed, Anna?” Marc asked.

  She was swallowing—not a good time to gasp with surprise. She choked, pressing a hand to her chest and coughing violently.

  Someone took the glass of champagne from her hand as she endeavored not to lose a lung.

  “Are you okay?” Maxine asked.

  “I’m…I’m fine,” Anna managed to say, finally clearing her throat.

  Her cheeks were radiant with embarrassment, and she glared balefully at Marc’s back as he turned to grab a glass of mineral water from a passing waiter. It was all his fault for making that crack. And for being so sexy. And for being here in the first place.

  “Here.”

  He slid the water into her hand, and she took a couple of tentative sips.

  “That’s much better, thank you,” she mumbled, not meeting anyone’s eye. Could she have made it any more obvious that something had gone on between the two of them? She didn’t think so, short of hiring a billboard or having it written in the sky.

  “Back to normal?” Marc asked. As if in slow motion, she watched as he lifted a hand and placed it on her upper arm—an inconsequential, polite gesture between acquaintances.

  But the instant his hand was on her, about a million neurons fired off simultaneously throughout her body. Her stomach muscles clenched. Her knees went weak. Her heart started to race. And her nipples nudged against the silk of her bra, remembering his touch and wanting more. Between her legs, her sex throbbed with need.

  She stared down at his hand where it rested on her arm. His olive skin looked impossibly tan against her paler complexion, his fingers long and strong.

  Completely at sea, she lifted her gaze to his. His dark eyes burned into her, and she licked her lips nervously. His gaze dropped to follow the movement, then he locked eyes with her again. There was no mistaking the desire in him. His pupils were dilated, and the raw hunger in him sent a thrill through her. She squeezed her thighs together, all too aware that wet heat was already pooling there—all from just a simple touch and a not-so-simple look.

  Suddenly everything in the world dropped away. It didn’t matter that five seconds ago she had been practically writhing with self-consciousness, wishing she was anywhere but here. Or that she’d spent the past week trying to justify her reckless, wild response to him. Or even that she was still deeply ambivalent about the whole Marc Lewis phenomenon. There was nothing in the universe except the need to be with him again. Her body knew him. And her body wanted him. Bad.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Marc’s fingers tightened on her arm. A delicious surge of heat raced along her veins. She had to bite back a moan of desire.

  She had to be alone with him. Now.

  Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears as she put her water glass down carefully on a nearby table.

  “It was nice meeting you, Jacob. If you’ll excuse me, I might just go powder my nose,” she heard herself say.

  Then she was putting one foot in front of the other, walking toward the archway that led into the administration part of the building. She didn’t need to look to see if Marc would follow her. He would come. Every instinct in her told her he would come.

  The air in the corridor was cool on her heated skin, and she stepped toward the first closed door on her left. The handle turned beneath her hand, and she stepped into a darkened office. Leaving the door open, she walked across the carpeted floor to survey the wide leather-topped desk. Perfect.

  She sensed rather than heard him enter the room behind her. She was shaking with need by now, and the sound of the privacy lock being engaged made her catch her breath. Soon, soon she would have him inside her again….

  A faint click, and a pool of light illuminated the leather top of the desk as he turned on the lamp.

  “Take your dress off,” he said.

  Despite the lamplight, his face remained in darkness. She obeyed him, because she wanted to more than anything in the world. Already the muscles deep inside her were tightening in anticipation of his penetration. Remembering the full, hard length of him, she closed her eyes and shuddered.

  Her zip undone, she pushed the dress off her shoulders, then shimmied it over her hips. She could feel the heat of his gaze as it traveled across her body, exposed now in a few bare scraps of silk and lace.

  Without hesitation she slid the clasp of her bra loose and flung it to one side, quickly adding her panties to the growing pile of her clothes.

  Then she was standing there, naked bar her stiletto sandals, hot and panting for him.

  His gaze raked her, and the raw need and desire in his eyes was almost frightening—but she was too busy being excited by it to care.

  He made a low animal sound in the back of his throat and reached for her. They came together as though they wanted to devour each other, tongues dueling, lips almost snarling as they strived to become one and satisfy the need that burned in both of them. His hands slid down her back, then swept smoothly over her hips and butt. She felt the tension ratchet tighter in his body as his hands explored the dips and curves of her backside, molding her to him. She ground herself against him, the action a pale imitation of what she truly desired.

  Then suddenly he was grasping her, lifting her and turning to place her on the desk so that he was standing in front of her. He stared down into her eyes for a heartbeat before his hands brushed down over her breasts, her belly, and finally, to her thighs. She didn’t wait for him to push them apart, spreading them eagerly for him. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she watched his face as he stared down at the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  His mouth parted, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Her stomach muscles clenched. He ran his hands up the smooth skin of her inner thighs, pushing them wider but stopping just short of touching her heat. His thumbs caressed the tender skin of her upper thighs, back and forth, back and forth. She sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush as he at last slid a finger into her slick folds.

  “You’re very wet, Anna,” he murmured, dark eyes skewering her.

  “You make me hot,” she murmured back, reaching for the hard, straining bulge in his pants.

  She gasped as he unerringly found her clitoris, his knowing fingers teasing over and over the tight bud. All the while he was watching her, his gaze intent on her face.

  “I want you inside me,” she said, her voice thready with need.

  “No,” he said, but the word was more a promise than a denial.

  Very deliberate, he sank to his knees, and she sucked in a lungful of air as his dark head moved toward her wide-spread thighs.

  “Ohhhh yes!” she moaned as his tongue made its first sweep across her wetness.

  His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as he began to lave her with skillful intensity. His tongue was by turns firm and rasping, then slick and darting, then warm and wonderfully wet as he suckled her.

  She forgot her name, where they were, who they were. The whole world narrowed to the spiraling heat that was building inside her and the remorseless, delicious pressure of his tongue. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles clenched white as she writhed.

  Her thighs found their way onto his shoulders, and just when she thought she was going to explode his hands slid under her butt and he lifted her up, his tongue firmer and harder than ever before.<
br />
  She came hard, her thighs clenching, her back arching, a low moan groaning out of her throat as her orgasm shook her. It seemed to go on and on, his skillful tongue teasing more and more response from her.

  Finally she fell limply onto the desk and there was only the sound of her harsh breathing. She was totally spent, boneless with satisfaction. Her thighs were wet with her desire and his saliva, and she felt swollen with passion. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew she should feel self-conscious about the fact that she was slumped, thighs wide, on a stranger’s desk, having just had the best oral sex of her life. But she was beyond caring, and when he sat back on his heels and simply stared at the glistening heart of her she felt nothing but a fierce satisfaction that he liked what he saw.

  His eyes were full of desire, so full that she didn’t protest when he reached out to touch her again, even though she knew she was too sensitive to stand any more.

  His finger slid inside her with practiced ease, and she was stunned to feel her muscles tense instinctively around him. As though she’d told him all he needed to know, he stood and leaned over her.

  “You want me again already,” he told her, and before she could confirm or deny he was kissing her.

  She could smell her own sex on him, but the faint musk only added to the eroticism of the moment. He pressed her back onto the desk, his hands sliding down to cup her breasts. He plucked at their straining peaks with increasing firmness, the pleasure almost painful, then he ducked his head and sucked a nipple hard into his mouth.

  He had too much clothing on. She needed his skin against hers. Her hands tore at his shirt buttons, fumbling them clumsily as she raced to reveal the hard breadth of his chest. No sooner had she won this battle than she moved on to his belt buckle. Desire lent her dexterity now, and she slid the buckle loose and released his fly in a matter of seconds. The taut, hard length of him sprang into her waiting hands. She smiled hungrily as she weighed his desire, sliding her hands up and down his shaft.

  He stiffened further still, if that were possible, and she could see the muscles of his shoulders and belly tense as he fought for control. She licked the palm of her hand and slid her newly-slicked hand up and down him, her grip firm and sure.

  He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. She liked the way his eyes glinted down at her, liked the hunger in his gaze as it roamed from straining breast to straining breast, then down her belly to where she was already aching to be joined with him.

  She didn’t protest as he slid her off the desk and gently but firmly turned her so that her back was to him. She heard the slither of fabric as he tugged off his jeans, then felt the warmth of his thighs against the back of her legs as he molded himself to her body. The hair on his legs and chest rasped sensually against her skin, and she bit her lip as his hands slid around her rib cage to possess her breasts. He plucked at her nipples as he ground himself against the curve of her butt, and she slid a hand behind herself to grab the length of him.

  His breath was hard and fast in her ear, and she made an impatient sound as he pulled away for a brief second to protect them. Knowing exactly what he wanted, she leaned forward, reaching for the edge of the desk and arching her back as he plunged inside her from behind. It felt so good she couldn’t stop herself from crying out. Then he began to move, his rhythm sure and smooth, his strokes powerful. His hands gripped her hips, and Anna closed her eyes and gave herself over to the experience. He was so thick and hard, and her muscles contracted around him, urging him on. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he snaked a hand over her hip and between her legs and zeroed in on her clitoris. She bucked as a bolt of pure desire rocketed through her, and then she was pulsating around him, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she rode the peak of another orgasm.

  As she tapered off Marc’s rhythm increased, and then his grip firmed on her hips, and she felt him tense and shudder as he spent himself deep inside her. The moment seemed to last forever, until finally the tension dropped out of him and his grip slackened.

  A moment passed, a few heartbeats as they remained connected, his breath in her ear, his body warm against her back. Then he sighed, and her head drooped forward. She felt a small moment of loss as he withdrew from her. Her flesh was cool where his had been, and all the bad memories from last time came rushing back—the awkwardness, the embarrassment, the uncertainty.

  She straightened and with shaking hands reached for her bra. It took two attempts to fix the clasp in place, and she glanced across at him as she walked to where she’d flung her dress. It was the first time she’d had a chance to appreciate his powerful physique. He was in superb shape, a man in his prime. Despite what had just happened between them, her body tightened at the sight of him. She bit her lip and pulled her dress over her head.

  She could hear him dressing, also, but she didn’t look at him again. Why did this keep happening between them? She clenched her hands, trying to hold back the tide of regret. Half an hour ago, she’d been standing in an art gallery trying to come up with a good exit line. Then Marc had touched her, and her thighs had gone up in flames and nothing in the world had been as important as getting her hands on him as soon as possible.

  A panicky feeling gripped her. It was as though she wasn’t in control of herself anymore. As soon as Marc Lewis was in the room, she turned into some kind of sex-mad robot, obsessed with getting off and nothing else.

  It was one thing to tell Danny she wanted more passion in her life, but these…encounters with Marc Lewis were so far removed from anything she’d ever imagined. She felt out of control. Completely out of control.

  He was pulling on his pants, and she heard the clink of his belt buckle. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts and feelings. Now that the tide of desire had receded, she just wanted to get out of there, but her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t do up her zip.

  “Let me.”

  He brushed her hands away from the zipper tab, and she felt the heat of his hands through the fabric of her dress as he slid the zipper closed. His hand lingered on her back, and she stepped forward to break the contact.

  “Anna,” he said, but she shook her head.

  “I’m going to tell my dispatch service that I’m no longer available for work with your company,” she said. Her voice was as shaky as she felt inside.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said after a short silence.

  “This can’t happen again.”

  “It won’t.” There was a world of clipped determination in his voice.

  “Good.”

  Without looking at him, she unlatched the privacy lock and pulled the door open. Two women were exiting a room a few doors up the corridor, and they looked at her curiously as they walked past. Anna avoided eye contact and retraced their steps. As she’d hoped, they’d emerged from the ladies’ room. She pushed the door open and stared at the woman reflected in the wall-to-wall mirror above the vanity. Her hair was a rumpled mess, her cheekbones stained with hectic color. Her eyes glittered strangely, and a dull red flush of desire still colored her chest.

  She filled the sink with water and sluiced great handfuls onto her face, then used some paper towel to dab moisture onto her chest. Slowly her color went down. She finger-raked her hair into some semblance of order and thought of Leah and Jules. They were probably wondering where the hell she’d got to. She’d be lucky if they hadn’t abandoned her—it would be nothing less than what she deserved.

  She met her own eyes in the mirror, and was forced to acknowledge that she didn’t know the woman staring back at her. She’d never thought of herself as sexy or even particularly sensual. She was just average. A normal, everyday woman.

  But what had just happened with Marc was not a normal, everyday experience—unless she’d been living a far more cloistered, secluded life than she’d ever imagined. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she was capable of the kinds of things that had happened over the past hour. A wash of heat rushed thro
ugh her as she remembered how abandoned she’d been as Marc went down on her. She had not spared a single thought for repercussions or reputation or anything. She had just given herself over to the moment and absolutely reveled in it. Lord only knew how much noise she’d made as she came—she had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d been extremely vocal.

  She stared despairingly at herself in the mirror. She just wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. It was all very well for Danny to talk of flings and fun, but she was made of sterner, more prosaic stuff and she didn’t bounce back from these encounters the way he did.

  The door swung open, and Jules and Leah bustled in.

  “There you are! We were wondering where you’d got to,” Leah said.

  They were both a little flushed and bright-eyed, and Anna realized with relief that they were tipsy. It would make it much easier to do what she was about to do.

  “I’m sorry—but I think I might have picked up a bit of tummy bug,” she fibbed.

  “Oh, Anna, no,” Jules said sympathetically. “Do you want to go home?”

  “I think so, but I’ll grab a cab on my own. No need for you guys to have an early night because of me.”

  “No way—we’ll take you home,” Leah insisted.

  “Seriously, I’m just going to go straight to bed,” she assured them hastily. “You guys seem like you’re having a pretty good time.”

  They exchanged guilty looks. “There is this very cute waiter,” Jules admitted.

  “And he has a brother,” Leah added.

  “Then you should definitely stay and chat him up. I’ll give you a call next week, okay?”

  After making her promise to drink lots of water and have some dry toast when she got home, they finally let her leave. In three minutes flat she had congratulated Maxine on her exhibition, made her excuses, collected her bag and was standing on Glebe Point Road, waiting to hail a taxi.

  It was a busy time of night, and there were plenty of cabs cruising for fares. She flagged one down and slid into the back seat with relief. Telling the driver her address in Rose Bay, she sat back against the upholstery and relaxed for the first time in hours. She just wanted to be home so she could forget tonight’s mistake.