by Jess Dee
“I bet you taste better.” Christ, she looked delicious.
She drew her finger away from her pussy, and Ben couldn’t help but follow its path as she brought it to her face, dipped it into her mouth and sucked on it. Then she smacked her lips together, as though confirming the taste. “It’s okay,” she told him. “Not as salty as you. Or as musky.”
Ben couldn’t speak. He just let out a low, long groan instead.
Mel returned her hand to her pussy, played with her clit, slid her finger in her gleaming cunt.
“Ya know, I used to think a hard dick was the sexiest thing about a man.” Melissa’s voice was a touch lower than usual now. “But now, I’m changing my mind. Now I’m thinking the sexiest thing is a man who wants me to do what makes me happy.”
“That’s funny, because I’m thinking there’s nothing sexier than a woman who’s happy with herself, who’s happy with what she’s doing right now.”
“I am happy right now, Ben.”
“Me too, sweetness.”
“Know what would make me even happier?” Her eyes flashed with sparks of the devil.
“Tell me.”
“Watching you come.”
Ben groaned. “Wanna come. Badly.”
“Do it.” The teasing quality in her voice was suddenly gone.
His hand wasn’t the only one moving like lighting. Her own was powering away as she drove her finger into her cunt over and over again. Her fingers were wet, her pussy swollen and her breath as ragged as his own.
“A-anything to make you happy.”
Ben bottomed out. With his gaze pinned between her legs, and her gaze pinned on his cock, he came. Semen squirted from his dick, shooting straight up into the air before landing with a splat on his stomach.
Mel whimpered.
Another strand shot from him.
Her whimper turned to a low moan. She lifted her hips, pushed her finger in deeper and cried out. Then she too was coming, her body convulsing before him, her thighs and hips jerking on the bed.
He pumped himself dry. Pumped until his dick softened in his hand and his stomach was splattered with a sticky white mess. He pumped until Melissa collapsed, her finger slipping from her pussy as tiny tremors still shook through her.
And then, and only then, did he let go and collapse back on the bed.
He had no idea how he was ever going to find the strength to get up and go to work.
They arrived late that morning. First the taxi had to make a detour past Melissa’s place so she could get clean clothes, and then, since neither of them had found time to eat before leaving Ben’s place, he insisted on stopping at the coffee shop just outside the lobby of their office, sitting at a table and grabbing a bite. Mel ordered yogurt, he a slice of banana bread. Both had large coffees.
Melissa felt indulged. She hadn’t run this morning, a routine she almost never missed, and somehow the skipped exercise felt almost as decadent as their night of passion.
She also felt happy and carefree, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in forever. She liked it. Heaps.
But beneath all the happiness and cheer was a strange unease. Ben wanted her to be happy always. Not just now. She wanted it too. Having experienced it for the last few weeks, she wasn’t ready to give it up. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to turn her current state of cheerfulness into a permanent way of being.
Because the bottom line was, she couldn’t be happy if she continued working at Preston Elks. And she couldn’t leave Preston Elks. She still had to make partner. Still had to prove to herself—the high school failure—that she could do it.
And therein lay another problem. How could she make partner if she was too busy being happy with Ben? She hadn’t been able to work and play when Thomas was in her life, so how could she possibly do both with Ben?
Ben had not repeated his words of love again, but she felt it in his every action, his every look. Yes, it still freaked her the hell out. Just like their conversation in the restaurant had. He’d seen straight through her, straight past all her defenses, and into her soul. He knew she hated work, knew why she drove herself like she did.
She knew she should run. Sprint as fast and as far away from him as she could go. But as she’d realized last night, he wouldn’t let her and she didn’t want to. It would be the prudent thing to do, but damn it, hanging out with Ben was too much fun, too…special to give up.
She was developing feelings for him she had no business developing. Beginning to like him altogether too much. What she felt for Ben went way past the simple crush that had motivated her to strip in his office that night.
What if spending a few extra hours with him a week didn’t interfere with her plans to make partner? It wasn’t like she was about to up and quit her job just to be with him. She still had her long-term goals in place. Nothing had changed. Just because Ben had questioned them didn’t mean she was questioning them, or that she was any less determined.
Problem was, his questions had got her thinking. Was there something she wanted to do more than investment banking? Was she happy to stay where she was?
For the next little while she’d decided to continue with things just the way they were. Working to make partner and sleeping with Ben as often as she could. If at any point her work started to suffer, they’d have to cut all personal ties. It would be hard, almost impossible, but she’d done it with Thomas, she could do it with Ben. And when the inevitable hurt and pain came, well, she’d just deal with it then.
As she took a sip of her cappuccino, someone called out behind them.
“Yo, Benny Boy.”
Melissa froze. No, she’d never heard the voice before, but she had no doubt who was there.
Ben stood, confirming her fears with his greeting.
“Will.” He stuck out his hand, and Melissa watched as he clutched the other man’s palm in his and gave a friendly shake.
Her heart thundered. Her breath vanished.
Dear Lord. It was one thing fucking Ben in his office while another man watched. Windows kept them apart. Buildings.
It was another thing altogether when that voyeur stood inches away—in person.
For a good few seconds she sat, immobile, terrified. And then Ben’s hand was on her shoulder, warm, supportive, urging her up.
She pasted her most professional, aloof expression on her face and stood to greet the man who’d watched as Ben had, at various times, placed his hand, his tongue and his dick in her pussy. And her arse.
“Melissa, meet Will Granger. Will, Melissa Sparks.”
She took the hand he offered, and he shook hers with a firm grip, his palm cool, his fingers long. A tiny shiver raced up Melissa’s spine.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Morning tea?” He released her hand and motioned to the coffee.
“Yeah.” And breakfast, but Will didn’t need to know that. “You too?”
“Uh-huh. Got a break between clients. Thought I’d grab a coffee.”
“Will’s a lawyer,” Ben explained.
“Ah, any specific area?”
“Family law. With a special interest in adoption. Intercountry adoption.”
“Wow, really?” Melissa was instantly more curious about him. “My sister and brother-in-law looked into adoption a few years back. They consulted a lawyer about finding a child outside of Australia. But the whole procedure would have been so long and complicated they didn’t go through with it.” It had been a difficult, heart-wrenching decision for her sister and brother-in-law.
“I empathize. The process is lengthy and frustrating.”
“It must be insanely hard for you too, and you go through it often.”
“It is. But when an adoption goes through, and the couple finally gets to bring home their child, it’s all worth it.”
Melissa smiled, liking Will yet still feeling an undercurrent of unease. Not from him, mind you. It was all her.
Here he stood, in front
of her, talking to her. Not separated by thick panes of glass. Sure, she already had a vague impression of what he looked like. She’d have recognized him even if he hadn’t been with Ben, but the impact of seeing him in person made her nervous as hell.
Ben had described him as not bad looking. The portrayal didn’t do him justice.
The man was gorgeous. Tall, even taller than Ben, and blond with penetrating blue eyes. His lips were full, lush, the kind of lips that invited kisses from complete strangers. High cheekbones and a square jaw, surrounded by tanned skin and an expensive-looking suit and trendy tie, completed the picture of absolute professionalism.
And when he smiled, exposing a cute dimple in his left cheek, her breath left her body.
She let the conversation run dry, very conscious of who he was and what he’d seen.
Will must have felt it too, but unlike her, he didn’t hide behind his awkwardness. “Ben has impeccable taste,” he said. “Seeing you through my window, I thought you were lovely. From up close? You’re perfect.”
Flustered by his directness, Melissa wasn’t sure how to respond. What was one supposed to say when a man acknowledged he’d observed your sexual encounters with another man?
More than that, Melissa wasn’t sure what to make of her physical reaction to him. Her cheeks grew warm under the directness of his gaze, her breasts tightened and her belly fluttered. Arousal or embarrassment?
Ben saved her the trouble of a responding, distracting Will with a question. “So, soccer on Saturday? Are we on?”
“Yeah, mate. We are. But they changed the schedule. Instead of playing at four, the game’s at three. That work for you?”
“Sure. Either time is good.”
Ben played soccer? She’d had no idea. But it didn’t surprise her. His strong, athletic build suited that of a soccer player.
“Cool. Come early, about two thirty. The team can get in a practice for half an hour first.”
Ben nodded. “No worries.”
“’Kay.” Will pointed to the counter. “My coffee is ready. I gotta get going.” He turned to Melissa. “It was nice to meet you…finally.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
He smiled. A broad, sexy smile. The man was gorgeous, no two ways about it.
Not quite as gorgeous as Ben—no one was quite as gorgeous as Ben—but he was up there.
“Later.” And with that, he collected his take-away and strode off, the confidence in his steps incredibly appealing.
Melissa watched him go. Watched him, with her heart pounding and her hands trembling, until he’d walked through the door and disappeared outside.
“He’s gone now,” Ben said gruffly. “You can stop staring.”
“Stop staring? Sheesh, Ben. That’s him. That’s…Will.” Duh. As if she needed to tell Ben who he was.
“Yep, that’s him.” He sat, leaving her with little option but to do the same.
She swallowed, the vein in her neck beating so hard she could feel it. Couldn’t Ben see how uncomfortable the whole meeting had made her? Coming face to face with a man who’d seen her naked, who’d seen her in multiple sexual positions, was possibly the single most excruciating moment of Melissa’s life. It might also be one of the most exciting. “He’s…the one.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“I didn’t expect to run into him. Not at all. It never entered my head that I might actually meet him one day.”
Ben looked at her carefully. “He works next door. You didn’t think running into him would be a distinct possibility?”
She shook her head. “Stupid of me, I know. But there you have it.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. The meeting had her skittish and out of sorts.
“You’re surprised?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Shocked?”
“A…a bit.”
He narrowed his eyes, then leaned in close and asked softly, so only she could hear, “Excited?”
A jolt went through her. “I—” Heat flooded between her legs. She tried to form a sentence, to say something logical, but in the end could express nothing but the absolute truth. “Yes.”
Ben leaned in closer, spoke even more softly. “How excited?”
“V-very.”
“Excited by the prospect of him watching us, or by meeting him?”
She couldn’t separate them out. “Both.”
“Do you find him attractive?” Ben’s voice was hoarse.
“He’s good looking.”
“He turns you on?”
Melissa faltered. She was turned on. No two ways about it. But was it Will that had her all worked up, or was it the fact that meeting him had automatically made her think of fucking Ben? Because that was the context in which she associated Will. A voyeur to her and Ben’s sexual activities. “Meeting him turned me on.”
“Tell me, Mel…” His voice was so low she had to pay him her full attention to catch every word. “How would you feel if I took you upstairs now, locked my office door and fucked you in front of my open window—knowing the man you’ve just met was watching us?”
Oh, God. The very thought of Ben making love to her made Melissa whimper. The idea of Will watching made her pussy clench. Desire for Ben hit her with such force, her hands shook. Had she been holding her coffee, it would have spilled everywhere.
“You’d like that, sweetness, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded, helpless to do anything else.
“Would you let him see everything? Would you want him to see everything?”
“I…” She lowered her voice to match his. “Yes. Absolutely everything.”
“You’d want him to see you naked?”
She closed her eyes, imagined Ben making love to her while Will watched, seeing everything. The image made her shiver, and she nodded.
“You want him to see me finger you?”
Almost as much as she wanted to be fingered by Ben. Another shiver, another nod.
“How about licking you? Would you like him to watch as I feast on your sweet pussy?”
The idea of Ben’s mouth on her cunt was almost more than she could bear. “S-so much.”
“And if I fucked you while he watched, would I take your pussy or your arse?”
“D-do I have to choose?” Could he be that cruel? That withholding? She wanted Ben in every way possible.
“You’d want both?”
“Yes.”
“In front of him?”
She nodded.
“What if…” Ben’s voice trailed off.
“What if what?”
“Nothing.”
“Ben, please. What if what?”
He looked at her with eyes black as night. His mouth was set in a grim line.
“Ben?”
“What if Will wasn’t in his office when I fucked you? What if he was in mine?”
Chapter Eleven
Damn it, he’d done it again. Thrown her completely off her game. Had her attention focused elsewhere, so work just wasn’t important.
What if Will was in Ben’s office the next time they made love? How would she feel?
She hadn’t answered Ben, hadn’t been able to. She still didn’t have an answer. The idea sent shivers of anticipation racing up and down her spine. It made her breath shallow and her stomach all fluttery.
Melissa blinked in surprise. When had she started using the terms fucking Ben and making love to him interchangeably? More importantly, when had she begun to think of being with Ben sexually as making love? What had happened to the simple, no-strings-attached affair?
Melissa needn’t worry about strings anymore. She’d gone way past that. At some point over the last few weeks she’d brought in the heavy artillery, attaching herself to him with ropes, chains, shackles and irons.
Listless, she stared at the paperwork on her desk. A new company was looking to make investments. One she’d never worked with before but had heard noise about in the field.
Melissa wanted to get exc
ited about the prospect. Wanted the shivers up her spine to be an indication that her work turned her on. They weren’t.
She’d met with the CFO a few days ago and gotten a good feel about him. Now she had to back up that feeling with facts and figures of company performance, solid proof they could indeed put up the millions they were looking to offer as debt.
She forced herself to work. Forced herself to do the necessary research, check through Alistair’s documents meticulously, and she despised every minute of it. There had been a time when coming to work excited her. When the thrill of knowing she’d gotten such a brilliant job had been enough to spur her on, get her out of bed in the morning, make her rub her hands together at the thought of all she could achieve.
But that time had passed long ago. All that was left now was the drive to do better. Although maybe “obsessive need” would be a more appropriate description than drive.
She let her mind wander. Allowed herself to play what-if. What if she left the job? Resigned and did something else altogether? What if she could work in any field, any industry of her choice? What would it be?
She had no idea.
She narrowed down her options. What could she do with her various degrees that would make her happy? Remaining in the business world but moving into a different area of finance did not appeal at all. Yep, there were many high-powered jobs out there that she was qualified to perform in and would offer her stable income and a chance for growth, but she wasn’t interested in any of them.
The problem was that she wasn’t passionate about business.
Okay, she had a mind for figures. She understood numbers. Could she do something with that? Teach, maybe? Lecture at a university or TAFE? Did she want to do that?
She had no idea. She’d never thought about it before. But teaching someone a new fact, helping them understand something that had previously made no sense did hold a certain amount of appeal.
Maybe something to file away and consider in the future.
Or maybe she could write? She had zero imagination, so fiction would be out. But what about nonfiction? An idiot’s-guide-to-investment-banking type of book?
Pfft. She had no idea if there was even a need for another guide to capital investment.
