Flirting With Scandal

by Chanel Cleeton

  “Yes, please.”

  Will

  My resolve to stay away from her lasted all of four hours. Impressive.

  I locked the bathroom door behind me, drinking in her appearance. Everything had been good up until this morning. On my way into the office, I’d stopped and picked up a coffee, and somehow ended up getting her one and a muffin. I’d noticed she sometimes forgot to eat during the day, and I was already there . . . no big deal. I’d meant to drop it off at her desk, maybe get a chance to see her, and that would be it. But then I saw her and it all fell apart.

  She’d never worn a dress to work before. It was sad that I noticed her outfits, but I did.

  Today she wore a dress. I knew nothing about women’s fashion, but whatever type of dress it was, poems should have been written about it. It was a DRESS.

  Nothing about it was overly sexual. It was knee-length with a V-neckline that didn’t actually show anything, but since I’d already seen it all, that was almost worse. It was as if the dress taunted me, hinting at curves I’d already explored, teasing me with the memory of her body. I blamed the dress for everything that followed.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” Jackie’s voice was breathless, her skin flushed, that same slightly crazed look in her eyes that I knew could be found in mine. Everything about her—her tone, her gaze, the energy surrounding her—was at odds with the caution in her words. This isn’t a good idea, sounded suspiciously like, please, yes, now.

  “I know. It’s a terrible idea. But right now, it feels like the best bad idea I’ve ever had. I have to be inside you.”

  I could have struggled for smooth, but I settled for honesty instead. There was need in my voice, vibrating through my body, every muscle tense, my dick hard, while the primal part of my brain that screamed, mine, told me to fuck caution, logic, and sanity, and go straight for pleasure—warm and wet.

  I stalked toward her, my heart pounding in my chest like I’d run a fucking marathon. It was the same feeling I always had around Jackie—nerves, excitement, and a kind of edgy energy that pumped through my veins.

  I stopped in front of her, our bodies touching, bending her back against the bathroom countertop. My gaze drifted from her face, and I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I froze, barely recognizing myself.

  I looked just like I felt—wild, lost, savage almost. Gone was the boy who wore khakis and dated “nice girls;” gone was the man who wore business suits and avoided scandal like it was a contagious disease. This man, the one staring back at me in the mirror, didn’t give a fuck about any of that. He wanted one thing, and one thing only, and her ass was pressed up against the marble, her tits inches away.

  Jackie arched her hips, bringing her lower body against mine, rubbing herself over my erection as the last vestiges of sanity slipped through my fingers.

  I reached down between us, taking her hand, pressing it to my cock until she cupped me as I strained against my zipper.

  The voice that escaped my lips was raspy, desperate, and sounded like it came from someone else.

  “I’ve been hard all day thinking about you. I don’t have a fucking clue what was said in that meeting because all I could think of was you. I woke up last night, surrounded by your scent on my sheets, wanting you. I had to jerk myself off just so I could fall back asleep.”

  She moaned, her teeth sinking down on her full lower lip, and suddenly I couldn’t wait anymore.

  I fumbled with the skirt of her dress, my hand skimming up her leg until I reached the edge of her thong, playing with the lace there before I dipped under the fabric, burying my fingers in her wet heat.

  “Christ.”

  Jackie moaned again, her hips rocking back and forth as my fingers pumped into her. Her hand wrapped around my dick, stroking up and down.

  I moved back, kneeling on the tile floor, lifting her skirt up, baring her body as I pulled off her thong, trailing kisses down her leg as my mouth followed the path my hands had taken.

  “You’ve been driving me crazy all day. I kept fantasizing about you in this dress, wondering what you were wearing underneath it.” I reached up, stroking between her legs, loving the soft little sighs that escaped from her mouth. “I saw you in the meeting; I saw you and knew you were remembering Saturday night, how good it was between us. I wondered if you were wet like this, if you wanted it as badly as I did.”

  She gasped.

  “Tell me. Tell me how badly you want this; tell me I’m not the only one going crazy here. Tell me you touched yourself yesterday wishing it was my hands between your legs, my tongue on your clit, my cock making you come.”

  I slid my fingers in and out, all that wetness surrounding me, creating a delicious friction between my skin and hers.

  Jackie’s head fell back against the mirror. “Yes. God. Yes to all of it. I can’t fucking think; I can’t breathe.” My fingers twisted and her body jerked. Her voice was breathless, need breaking through her words. “You’re driving me crazy. I’ve never been like this. Never wanted anyone like this.”

  With each word that came out of her mouth, the desire within me grew. I played with her body, wanting to watch her fall apart, needing to watch her come. She was so close, so responsive.

  “Wait.” Her hands moved between us, fingers fumbling with my clothes, unbuttoning my pants, sliding my zipper down, pulling down my boxers. “I want you inside me,” she panted.

  “Come home with me tonight. After work.” I was using sex to barter more time with her and I didn’t even care how messed up it was. If there were ever a time to play dirty, this was it. I worked a third finger inside her, my thumb rubbing back and forth against her clit, teasing another moan from her lips. I held back, my fingers keeping her on the brink, giving her pleasure, drawing it out until she looked like she was about to break.

  “Come home with me.” Come home with me and I’ll make it amazing.

  “Fine. Fuck. I need you inside me. Now.”

  Blood rushed through my head like a steam engine. It hit me then. Shit.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  I’d never had sex in public before. I wasn’t the guy who carried a condom in his wallet, hoping to get lucky. I was a fucking idiot.

  She stilled, meeting my gaze. Neither one of us moved, my hand between her legs, her lips inches from mine. Everything hung in suspension between us.

  Jackie sighed. “I’m on the pill, and I haven’t been with anyone in months. I’m clean.”

  Thank god. I knew I should back away, but we were so far past that point.

  “I haven’t been with anyone, either. Not in a long time.”

  I didn’t add the rest. I’d never had sex with a girl without a condom. Ever. It was one of the Clayton rules. Growing up wealthy meant there would always be women who wanted a piece of me because of my name and the money that came with it. So I was cautious. Always. Even with girlfriends. I was a lot of things before Jackie.

  I saw nerves in her eyes, mixed with uncertainty. And then she pushed herself up on the edge of the counter, her legs spread wide, her dress bunched up against her waist, and my mind went completely blank.

  Jackie

  You’re playing with fire.

  It was the last thought before he thrust into me, stretching me, pushing my body back against the cool glass.

  We were in the bathroom at work, I was the oops-baby to end all oops-babies, I was fucking him without a condom, and all I could think was, yes, as his body pushed into mine.

  My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer to me, unable to tell where his body ended and mine began. He was still dressed in his suit, looking like he’d just walked off of the cover of GQ. I reached out, grabbing his tie, and pulled him toward me, fusing my mouth with his. I fucked him with my mouth, using my tongue, and lips, and teeth to tell him what I wanted where words failed me.

  His hands gripped my hips, pulling me tighter against him until I felt the orgasm building. My head lol
led back as his lips ravaged mine, swallowing the scream his body tore from my mouth as I broke. His hips jerked against me, and then he shuddered, the force of his orgasm knocking us both back until we sagged against the counter, our bodies boneless.

  Holy shit.

  A minute passed, maybe two. The sex haze erased all sense of time.

  “Give me a second.” Will’s arms wrapped around me, his head buried in the curve of my neck, his lips brushing against my skin. The scent of sex surrounded us, and little by little sanity returned. Sort of. We were in the bathroom at work, and he was between my legs, and he’d just fucked my brains out. And we’d officially been gone longer than we could make excuses for.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  Will groaned against my skin. “Please don’t freak out.”

  “We’re in the bathroom.” This took tacky to new levels. “The bathroom. At work.”

  He pulled out, slowly, a hiss escaping my lips as his touch vibrated through me. He turned away while I struggled to fix my dress and clean myself up, my legs shaking as they hit the tile.

  Will turned back to face me, his clothes wrinkled, his face wary.

  “I’m sorry. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m not sorry. Not for what just happened. But I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position. It was reckless.”

  I didn’t trust my voice enough to speak. We’d brushed by reckless and were now moving squarely into stupid.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “What am I going to say?” I glanced down at my watch. “It’s been twenty minutes. How the hell am I going to explain that I’ve been on a twenty-minute bathroom break?”

  Will ran a hand through his hair, a panicked expression crossing his face. He took a deep breath.

  “You’re not. You’re going to go to Starbucks. I’ll go back in and say I’ve sent you off to get coffee since the meeting was going on for so long. If anything, I’ll look like the asshole making you go run errands. Besides, no one’s going to care. I promise you, we weren’t the only people bored in there.”

  “And you think people will buy that?”

  He shrugged. “I’m the boss. I don’t care if they buy it. They don’t have much of a choice.”

  “What if someone had tried to go to the bathroom?”

  “I locked it. They didn’t.”

  “What if they had? What are we doing?”

  “I’m not ending this.”

  “Why?” I searched his gaze as if I could find the answers I needed there. As if I would somehow understand my own actions, find an explanation for the insanity building inside of me. But all I saw was the same confusion mirrored in his eyes.

  “Come over tonight.”

  I shook my head. “This is such a bad idea. We both know it. We should be smart about this.” I gestured around us. “A lot smarter than this.”

  “Come over.”

  He leaned in closer to me, his lips on mine, his tongue darting in and out of my mouth with a soft caress. An invitation I couldn’t refuse. Hands that should have pushed him away gripped his collar, pulling him closer to me.

  “We could ruin your political career. You get that, right? All of this, quick sex here and there, could end you.” I struggled to find reason to argue with when my own had fled. “Is all of this really worth your political future?”

  His lips brushed mine and the word disappeared between our mouths.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A very reliable source tells us Will Clayton has been seen around town with a mystery blonde. Could romance be in the air?

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Jackie

  I stood on his doorstep wearing the biggest pair of sunglasses I owned, a trench coat, and a fedora hat my roommate had purchased for a university production of The Maltese Falcon. My hand shook as I rang the buzzer.

  The office shut down around six today. Mitch was annoyed when Will told the staff to go home, but everyone else had been relieved. Most of us worked weekends, and we all needed a break.

  And I had a date with Will. Sort of.

  The door swung open, and I stared up at him. He was dressed casually—worn jeans, another faded Harvard T-shirt, this one a dark gray, his feet bare. His hair was wet around the ends as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. He smelled like soap¸ and man, and it took everything I had to keep from reaching out and hauling him toward me.

  His gaze raked me over from head to toe, his eyes widening as a smile cracked on his lips.

  “Do I need to give a secret password, Mata Hari?”

  I groaned. “The hat was too much.”

  His smile deepened. “If you were going for a sexy spy role-playing game, you nailed it.” He reached out, his finger trailing the trench coat collar. “Is it too much to hope you’re not wearing anything under there?”

  I batted his hand away. “I took the Metro to get here. I’m wearing clothes.”

  His dimple winked at me. “If I’d known the Metro was the only impediment to you coming naked, I would have sent a car.”

  “You think you’re so adorable, don’t you?”

  He laughed. “Sometimes. I think you think I’m adorable.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to let me in? Standing outside your front door having a five-minute conversation is the antithesis of discretion.”

  He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me through the door, closing it with a thud.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “A bit. I ate at the office.”

  “Diet Coke and pretzels at your desk does not a dinner make.”

  Apparently he’d noticed more than I’d realized. “I’m busy. Sometimes I forget to eat.”

  “Good thing I got us dinner, then.” He looked nervous, which was so cute it wasn’t even funny. “You like Italian, right?”

  I smiled, remembering it was his favorite. “Yeah, Italian’s good.”

  I followed him to the dining room, surprised to see the table set with a feast—lasagna, garlic bread, salad. A nice bottle of red wine sat beside the food. The lights were dimmed but for a few candles spread out. The Civil Wars played from the speakers.

  Oh god, there were roses sitting on the table. Big fat roses, their heads the size of a man’s fist. I’d never had a guy buy me flowers. No one had ever bought me flowers. And while he wasn’t exactly giving them to me, they were there on the table, their presence speaking volumes. They hadn’t been there Sunday, so at some point he’d gone out and bought roses and candles.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” I sputtered. “What is all this?”

  Will shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes dancing in the candlelight. “This is romance. Earlier was . . . mind-blowing. But I’m not typically—not ever, really—a bathroom-sex kind of guy. I wanted you to know there was more.” His voice dropped to something low and seductive. “I wanted to give you more. Although, full confession, this is takeout from my favorite Italian restaurant in Alexandria. I told you breakfast was the sum of my culinary skills.”

  I jerked my gaze from the roses and candles, their presence giant warning signs screaming at me to run.

  “Sit. Eat. Don’t freak out. It’s just dinner, not a marriage proposal.” Something sparkled in his eyes, and suddenly he’d done it again—pulled the rug out from under me. I’d come here expecting hot sex, and I’d gotten red roses and garlic bread instead.

  I sat. I ate. I struggled not to freak the fuck out.

  I sort of thrived on order, logic, and control. My mother was a total disaster. When I was a kid—and later—she forgot to pay bills, didn’t buy groceries, disappeared with her various boyfriends, leaving me to fend for myself. It didn’t allow a lot of time for me to indulge. I hadn’t been a saint, but everything, even sex, had been carefully weighed and considered. Would it ruin the friendship? Was it likely to be good enough to make it worth it? Could we just keep things casual between us?

  Before Will sex had been good, occasionally gre
at. It hadn’t been irresistible. And this? The roses, and the candles, and the music? The feeling that my heart was falling through my stomach? He called this romance; I called it the scariest fucking thing that had ever happened to me. He should have come with a warning label—

  Caution: Seems harmless, will turn your life upside down until you don’t know which way is up.

  “Tell me about the tattoo.”

  I tore my attention away from the garlic bread I made love to. “Excuse me?”

  Will sipped his wine, his tapered fingers stroking the stem. “Why that line? Why that poem?”

  Of all the questions he could have asked, I hadn’t predicted that one. My answer wasn’t even a little guarded when it tumbled from my mouth.

  “It spoke to me.”

  A flush crept up my cheeks. That sounded so cheesy. I didn’t say cutesy things or act on my feelings, but here I was saying things like, “it spoke to me,” unable to form more than a few words because the emotions swirling in my throat choked me.

  Boys my own age, the boys I knew, would’ve said something about the design, or how its placement on my hip was sexy, or shown me theirs, or used it as an excuse to get my clothes off. But Will just stared at me like he was waiting for something, waiting for me to give him more. He coaxed the words out of me, and before I knew it, I was telling him all of it.

  “Have you ever wondered what makes perfectly rational people do completely stupid things? I mean, take sex for example. We basically live in the sex scandal capital of the world. It’s in the air here and yet”—I struggled to gather my thoughts—“I don’t get it.”

  I used to not get it.

  “What don’t you get?”

  “Sex fucks everything up. People risk everything for a moment. For a feeling they get for an instant, for a rush of pleasure, for something physical.”

  “So you think sex is just physical?”

  Not with you.

  “Sometimes. And sometimes it’s . . .” I didn’t want to say the words that hovered there—words like “ugly” and “sordid.” Didn’t want to explain how it felt to know your whole existence was based off of an animal instinct that had nothing to do with emotion, or feelings, or even love.