Sexual Integrity

by J. A. Dennam

  Never before had she been handled this way. Brandon’s gentle touch and dry kisses had always failed to elicit that ever-elusive climax. As a result, he’d accused her of being rigid and cold.

  Or perhaps the asshole just hadn’t known how to please a woman. As Brooke thought of that, she smiled. Here was living proof that, in the hands of the right man, she was far from cold. In fact when Roger sank his teeth into her right ass cheek, Brooke came alive with a mixture of surprise, pain, and fascination. Had he really just bitten her? And was it an accident that her body fairly gushed with heat in response?

  While his hands moved from her breasts to the apex of her thighs, he bit her again—not too hard, not too soft—delivering a heady contrast of pain and pleasure as his fingers delved beneath her panties at the same time. She parted for him and arched her back, struggling not to make noise. God, he was torturing her, daring her to cry out and alert a whole bunch of people in the other room. He was incorrigible. He was fighting dirty.

  And she loved it.

  With one knee, he pushed her legs farther apart. Then he reached down and moved the crotch of her soaking wet panties aside. His fingers parted her exposed folds and found all the places that begged for his touch. As he slid them in and out of her, swirling his rough fingertips in circles around her clit, Brooke fought the need to scream out her pleasure. In response, he bent down and took a huge portion of her ass in his mouth. Oh, yes, the message was clear. He’d bite her again, harder this time if she didn’t keep quiet. The anticipation—the unbearable pleasure—built until her body was singing with the need to explode.

  Roger stood up and replaced his fingers with the firm tip of his erection. Brooke tensed and waited.

  When he entered her, it was hard and fast. She threw her head back, her hands balled into fists before her. His fingers dug into her skin as he stilled for a moment. Then he pulled out and drove into her again. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. He held her firmly at the waist, forcing her to meet each thrust with equal momentum. What had begun as painful slowly morphed into a torturous kind of pleasure as her body stretched to accommodate him. Then she began to notice his many techniques, the way his cock skimmed along her folds as his fingers had done before.

  A burst of laughter came from the neighboring room, reminding them that the workday carried on around them while he fucked the living daylights out of her in secrecy. The reminder took her pleasure to a whole different, foreign level. It must have had the same effect on Roger because he gripped her shoulders and pulled on them so that she arched backward, giving him full access to what felt like the depths of her soul.

  Sweet God in heaven, the desire to tear into him the way he was tearing into her was almost too much. The fact that she couldn’t heightened the need. All her untapped desires melted together until her body began to convulse around him. As her inner walls tightened, pleasure burst outward and enveloped her in the sweetest, most sensational pool of pleasure she had ever felt. He cupped her jaw, twisted her around, and shushed her cries with his mouth as he continued to pound into her from behind. Finally, he tensed, slowed, and then let loose with a violent tremor that told her he was coming too. When it was over, he continued to move inside her, his breath mingling with her own as he slowly brought them both back down to earth.

  Never before had Brooke felt anything like it. She had tried so hard to come for Brandon, but she’d also heard that many women couldn’t have orgasms so she’d assumed that she was one of them. That sense of failure had stayed with her since he had left and saddled her with the belief that she’d been the problem.

  Now Brooke actually found herself in a state of post-coital bliss. Did Roger feel as good as she did at that very moment? As she wondered about it, he lifted his body off of her and pulled out. As she gingerly exited the chair, there was a rustling of clothes and the pull of a zipper. Still shaky and weak-kneed, Brooke felt around until she found the roll of paper towels she’d seen earlier. She tore off a few and started to dry the moisture between her legs. Before she had a chance to even begin dressing, the revolving door whispered with movement.

  Was he really leaving? Already? Not even a tender touch or a parting kiss to say goodbye? Then she remembered the conference going on next door. Perhaps Roger wasn’t as turned on by the danger of being overheard as she’d originally thought. Of course, he’d want to leave ahead of her since they couldn’t exactly be seen leaving together.

  Yes, she’d catch up with him later and tell him just how wonderful he’d made her feel. Perhaps she’d even suggest doing it again someday.

  ETHAN SQUASHED THE URGE TO RUN TO THE men’s room and wash the scent of woman from his fingers. Though he’d just quite possibly had the most pleasurable sexual encounter of his life, he was terrified by the fact that it had been with Shannon. Because instead of “getting it over with,” he’d just dipped his toe into something he’d only want more of.

  Shit.

  Regrets. Silence. Bathed in the white light of the men’s room, Ethan leaned against the sink with both palms and let the water run while he waited for the inevitable dread to come crashing through. He’d just fucked his sister’s best friend, something he said he’d never do. Besides that, Shannon was an enigma, a complication he couldn’t afford. So why had he done it?

  Because he’d let his anger for Brooke get the best of him. Over a year of abstinence didn’t exactly work in his favor either, and there was a cute, curvy blonde in the stairwell, offering herself up at his greatest time of need.

  I’m here for you, Ethan, she’d said. Waiting, wanting, and ready to take it from behind.

  Good God. After the way they’d left things at the bar, Ethan had expected some sort of retaliation, but she’d actually come through for him. She’d actually met him in the darkroom like she said she would.

  And the sex…holy shit! She’d all but attacked him straight out of the rolling doorway, her need for him dissolving every ounce of common sense he possessed. In all his thirty-two years, he’d never felt a connection of that magnitude. Not with the groupies, or the short-term relationships, not even with the girlfriend of four years. How could two people—as fucked up as they were—find an impossible rhythm like that?

  When Ethan finally faced his reflection in the mirror, his brow relaxed. The regrets he expected to see weren’t there, only the less-harried face of a man who’d just ended a long drought. A sense of calm came over him, one that told him to lighten up. So what if he’d enjoyed being with Shannon? When it was all said and done, she was his friend, and he should be grateful she’d been there for him.

  He reached for the jacket and tie he’d flung over a stall door and began to put himself back together.

  Good mood restored, Ethan walked past the reception area with his hands in his pockets and a whistle on his lips. Letreece gave him an instant smile that said she liked what she saw.

  “Why, Mr. Wolf, you look much better than the last time I saw you.”

  He returned her smile with a wink. “Why, I feel much better, Letreece, thank you.” Then he decided to stop and talk for a while, give himself another few minutes to regroup.

  While they chatted, Brooke showed up from seemingly nowhere. Ethan—still riding that sexual high—was hunkered over the reception desk, perfectly at ease when their eyes met.

  Damn if the woman didn’t look different. Her luminescence practically shined brighter than the sign behind the reception desk. If he didn’t know the reason for it, he’d swear that it was afterglow.

  With emery board in hand, Letreece sat back and gaped. “Why, Miss Monroe, you look much better than…well…ever.”

  Brooke stopped in her tracks, looked down at her clothing as if she were afraid something was out of place. When she realized Letreece had paid her a genuine compliment, she cleared her throat and smiled back. “Oh, thanks.”

  What? No gloating over her latest victory? Not even a hint in her tone or in the brief look she bestowed on him in passing? With
a furrowed brow, he watched her sachet down the hall toward the administrative department.

  “Was her top button undone?” Letreece asked, her eyes following the same woman.

  Ethan remembered seeing it open when he’d confronted her in the break room. Despite how angry he’d been, he’d still noticed a hint of creamy cleavage peaking out from underneath. He shifted from hip to hip, uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Yup.”

  “And I think her hair is a bit messier than usual,” Letreece added. “Now why would that be, I wonder?”

  Ethan envisioned her jumping for joy in the parking lot. His look turned droll. “Because sticking it to me really agrees with her.”

  When he pushed off the desk to leave, he caught sight of Letreece’s intense gaze boring a hole right through him. She slowly smiled as if she were privy to some kind of secret.

  Ethan stopped in his tracks. “What?”

  “Nothing.” The emery board scratched across the tips of her glossy red talons. “I’m just glad to see you two so…agreeable.”

  Her tone dripped with a suggestive nature that he didn’t like. Ethan pointed a finger. “Don’t even go there.” Because if he was right about Brooke leaking information, it was as good as wiping any attraction he’d ever had for her clean away. “By the way, did you see Shannon come through here yet?”

  “A while ago,” Letreece answered, her smile fading into a pout. “She was acting weird too, all puffed up and satisfied with herself.”

  I’ll bet she was. The woman had every right to be satisfied with herself. With his optimistic side in check, Ethan gave Letreece a wave of gratitude and left the reception area.

  He finally ran into Shannon around two o’clock on his way back from the fax machine. Her office door had been closed for the most part, but when she emerged, it was with an armful of files and a fresh coat of lip gloss. Four feet from his desk, they faced each other for the first time since the darkroom.

  Brooke was away from her desk, so they had room for some low-spoken words. “Have a drink with me after work,” he murmured. “We should talk about what happened.”

  As the afternoon sun filtered through her shaggy mane, Shannon’s brow went up. “Will I be safe with you, Mr. Wolf?”

  Ethan glanced away with a suppressed smile. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Then I’ll have to decline your offer.”

  When she attempted to pass him, he blocked her path. Damned if he’d let her play hard to get now. “How well do you know me, Shannon?”

  She looked down at his hand on the sleeve of her satin crepe blouse. “I used to know you quite well. A lot has changed since then.”

  Why did he get the feeling she was afraid of him? “Yes, it has,” he agreed with a softer tone. “Despite that, we’ve been friends for a long time. Don’t make it awkward now.”

  When her gaze returned to his, it was still a bit closed off. “Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

  This was not how he’d expected things to play out. As he thought this, he noticed Brooke heading back toward her desk with that same afterglow on her cheeks. Damn. If her good mood hadn’t been acquired at his expense, he’d be tickled by it.

  “Come on,” he said, nudging Shannon backward. “In your office.”

  “But I—”

  “You can do that later.”

  Once behind closed doors, he was finally able to think straight. Shannon backed up against her desk but refused to relinquish her armload of files. “So why do I get the feeling you’re avoiding the subject,” he said with his hands on his hips.

  She shrugged. “If you tell me what the subject is, I’ll follow along better.”

  “Don’t play coy with me. What happened in that darkroom deserves a little recognition, don’t you think?”

  Her laugh came out a bit smokier than usual. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  What the hell? Since he’d known her, Shannon had never been shy about the subject of sex. Something was off. He’d sensed it during his private reverie in the restroom, but figured it was all part of the shock and awe. His look narrowed. “The darkroom. You suggested we meet there, remember?”

  A gleam of recognition entered her eyes. “Oh…yeah. About that.”

  Just then her phone rang. In no mood to wait, he dove for it as she moved toward the handset. “Let voicemail get it,” he snapped. “Talk to me.”

  Her slender face masked over with disbelief as she pulled her hand out from beneath his. “Jeez, Ethan, I’m sorry if you’re pissed, but a girl has a right to change her mind.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Hugging the files closer to her chest, an air of faux innocence surrounded her. “Maybe I decided you were right about us after all. Why should we complicate things with sex when there are plenty of others out there willing to play?”

  A sense of dread unfurled within him, swallowing him whole in the time it took to flinch. His gaze moved over her clothing, desperately searching for clues that they’d been shed once already that day. “Tell me this change of heart came after the darkroom,” he said with deathly calm, “because if you’re saying you never showed up, we’re dealing with more than just a simple misunderstanding.”

  But he didn’t need her to voice it when the truth was in her eyes. The threat she’d made at the bar siphoned through his brain.

  Fuck you, Ethan. Some day you’ll come crawling to me and I’ll treat you like an asshole. See how you like it!

  She’d set him up. For the love of God, how could he have not known whom he was having sex with?

  Locked in a trance, Ethan ran a hand through his hair and backed away from her. The need to commit violence was roiling below the flow of memories that plagued him. Whispered moans, warm curves that felt like silk, a hint of lavender as he ran his tongue over those curves, downward, and between parted legs, an insane need to join while voices surrounded them, a torturous mixture of agony and delight when he’d first slipped inside.

  “Shannon,” he whispered, his eyes glazed over with alarm. “Who the hell was I with?”

  When the awkward silence finally registered, he noticed that Shannon was experiencing her own jolt of disbelief. The woman slowly put down the folders, covered her mouth with a slender hand. “No way,” she whispered back. “You actually had sex in there, didn’t you?”

  Ethan noted the genuine dismay in her countenance, but she definitely knew more than he did. After all, what were the odds that another woman would be waiting for him in the darkroom at the same exact time? In measured degrees, his anger boiled to the surface despite the voice in his head that told him to cool down. “Who was she?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Who did you set me up with?”

  “I didn’t set you up.” Her voice wobbled a bit like a child fearful of punishment. “All I did was….” A burst of insane laughter broke from her chest. “I can’t believe this. How could you mistake her for me?”

  “Who?” When his outburst forced her to back away, Ethan relaxed his fists and took a moment. Then another flash of reality hit, burning the truth into the back of his eyes like a hot poker. It was the picture of Brooke emerging from nowhere with messy hair and a suspicious afterglow.

  I’m just glad to see you two so…agreeable.

  Yes, Letreece definitely believed they’d had sex together. Why wouldn’t she? Now that the pieces were fitting into place, Ethan realized Brooke’s afterglow wasn’t suspicious at all. It mirrored his own, from his improved mood to his flushed face.

  “No!” It came out a desperate sort of roar as he mentally made the comparisons between Shannon’s slender form and Brooke’s. They had a similar-enough shape, especially in the pitch dark. Shannon’s breasts were a little bigger. Brooke was a little taller. Their hair was completely different, but it had been tied up, and the room was totally dark. Then he realized that there had been no perfume or lip gloss to distract him from the natural scent and textures of woman.

  And Brooke d
idn’t wear any of those things.

  “She was there to meet Roger,” Shannon offered from a safer place behind her desk. “I heard them making plans and I—I stopped him before he could go. Ethan, I never thought you would—”

  “Shut up!” Ethan snarled. He had to think, figure out what to do. He had to get out of there before he killed her. On his way to the door, he turned and pointed. “I advise you to steer very clear of me, Shannon. Do you understand?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he sent her a look that forced a reaction. Her eyes welled up and she nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

  Later, Ethan found it impossible to focus with Brooke’s happy humming floating through the air. Knowing just how much he’d contributed to her happiness forced him to relive every moment of that darkroom tryst. She was the one he’d screwed. She was the one he’d tasted. She was the one who’d gasped when he bit her.

  And she’d loved every moment of it.

  But he was supposed to have been Roger. The whole thing was so fucked up, Ethan couldn’t get past it enough to even pick up the phone. How could Brooke have confused him with Roger? They may be similar in height and size, but Ethan was in way better shape. Roger couldn’t find a muscle beneath that doughboy exterior, let alone flex it.

  But as much as he wanted to hate her for it, Ethan knew that Brooke had been just as duped as he’d been. She’d ignored obvious clues, just as he’d done. The only difference between them was that he was painfully aware and she was still living in blissful ignorance.

  But what really messed with his head was that he wanted her again. Despite the attitude, despite the lies, despite his suspicions of her…his dick responded with every relived moment they’d spent together.

  “Hey, Brooke, you have a moment?”

  That was Roger’s voice. Just as Ethan registered what could be happening, Bill Knight showed up at his desk with a confrontational look.