by Sylvia Fox
“You know, some people don’t have much of a choice in where they can afford to live,” she says sharply, and her voice begins to raise with each and every word she says. “Not all of us have billions of dollars to spend on swanky penthouses in the Upper East Side.”
I place a hand on her knee, but she only frowns down at it. What a difference from only a few moments before when she couldn’t get enough of my touch, of my hands on every inch of her exquisite body. But now she looks at my hand like it’s a snake.
“Becca, I’m not trying to offend you,” I say as calmly as I can manage. The last thing I want to do is upset her, but somehow, an off-the-cuff remark about her friend has gotten her worked up in a way I never would have expected. She looks downright pissed as hell. “I know not everyone can afford a better place to live. I just assumed any mother—any good mother—would do whatever it takes to keep her children in better accommodation. Hell, like live somewhere that isn’t Manhattan for starters, if you can’t afford it.”
She coughs out a bitter laugh, and her hand lands on the door handle. “You really don’t get it, do you? You realize that Manhattan is where all the jobs are, right? All the good ones anyway.”
I should stop discussing this with her. It’s too close to a fight for my liking, but I can’t help but see a fatal flaw in her argument. “But if she had a good job, then why the hell would she be living in this dump with these kids?”
Becca’s eyes go blurry, and she beats her eyelids together as fast as butterfly wings. “I’ve got to get inside.”
“Becca, I’m sorry.” My heart throbs once, then twice, while a sharp pain stings inside my gut. I didn’t mean to upset her, not like this, and I still don’t understand what I’ve said to cause this reaction from her. She’s taking something personally when I wasn’t even talking about her at all. “Please forgive me for being a dumbass with a big mouth.”
“Sure, I forgive you,” she says in a whisper just as she pushes open the limo door. “See you at work on Monday.”
“Becca, wait,” I say but she’s already out the door. Even though it’s the opposite of my every instinct, the opposite of how I live the rest of my life, I lean my head outside the door and resort to begging this woman to come back into my arms. “Please. Grab some clothes and come with me. Or don’t grab some clothes. I can get someone to buy some clothes for you near my penthouse so you don’t even need to go inside to pack.”
“Who?” She pauses slightly, casting a sad and hurt look over her shoulder. “I’m your assistant after all. Isn’t that my job? Good night, Mr. Michaels.”
9
Becca
Monday morning comes far too fast. Over the weekend, I consider quitting my job half a million times before I talk myself out of it again with my stupid heart that won’t let me escape from the most uncomfortable situation I’ve encountered. And it certainly doesn’t help my resolve to quit when one of the twins comes down with a sinus infection and has to be rushed into the doctor’s office for prescription medication.
There’s no way we can get by without the money.
“So, what do you think you’re going to do?” Carrie asks as I stuff some toast into my mouth while scribbling medication instructions onto a notepad soaked in stale coffee.
“Abby is a lot better today,” I say, plonking the medicine bottle onto the kitchen counter. “Just keep giving her this for a few more days, and the infection should clear up.”
“That’s great, Becca.” Carrie leans against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest. “But I was talking about the boss problem. You know, the boss who is the father of Abby and doesn’t know.”
I close my eyes and let out a sigh that comes from the very deepest parts of my bones. “I know he needs to know, but he made it clear he thinks I’m the worst mother on this planet.”
“He was actually talking about me, remember,” she says with a pointed look.
“Carrie.” I raise my eyebrows. “That’s a technicality, and you know it.”
“Still, after the way he treated you the other night, he’s not going to shun you just because you live in this dump of an apartment,” she says. “Sounds like he’d just move you all into his billionaire penthouse. And don’t get me wrong. I’d miss you. But that’s a serious upgrade you shouldn’t turn down.”
These are the same thoughts that have been spinning through my mind all weekend. As much as his words hurt me, he was only saying them out of concern. At the time it had felt like a knife in my gut, but it’s not like I haven’t thought the very same things a million times myself. Guilt over housing the girls in such a shitty home. Worry every time I leave them, even if it is with Carrie. Concern when sirens blare outside the windows in the dead of night.
But hearing his disapproval…well, it hurt. And I didn’t want to see the look on his face when he realized his daughters are the ones living in the place he despises so much.
“I don’t feel right about being a charity case.” I take another bite of the toast and glance at the clock. Time to get going, or I’ll be late. “Especially when…well, you know.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Because you fucked in his limo? Tell him about the twins, take him up on his awesome living situation offer, and live happily ever after. Just don’t forget about me while you’re up there enjoying Central Park views.”
I nod, curling my hands into fists and pulling every ounce of courage into my soul. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
“Good morning, Mr. Michaels,” I say in a singsong, falsely chirpy voice when I deliver Adrian’s coffee to his desk. I clench my own cup in my fingers, needing a dose of caffeine to get me through what needs to happen this morning.
He frowns. “I thought we agreed on you calling me Adrian. Mr. Michaels feels far too formal.”
“I just thought it was more professional,” I say through a pasted-on smile.
“I hope this has nothing to do with what happened between us Friday evening,” he says.
Flinching, I glance over my shoulder to scan the office hallways. Even though it’s early, plenty of staff are roaming around, settling into their desks and firing up their computers for the day. We might be in his office, but the door is wide open, and it’s not a stretch to believe someone could overhear our conversation.
His lips quirk. “Worried about word getting out? No need to fret. Voices don’t carry down the hallway. Feel free to shut the door though, if you’d like more privacy.”
I open my mouth to argue, but that seems pointless. Even though Adrian is the boss and can do whatever he pleases, I’d rather the whole company not know we got a little too friendly on our “working” dinner evening. So, before saying anything more, I shut the door with a click.
“Is that better?” he asks with that smooth, unruffled smile of his.
“Yes.” I perch on the edge of the chair and then stand. It’s not better. Not really. While it prevents rumors from circulating, it doesn’t stop the frantic beating of my heart, knowing I’m only seconds away from revealing a hard truth to his ears. What I’m about to say could change everything. No, that’s not quite right. It will change everything. There’s no could about it at all. And I’m terrified the changes will be for the worse.
“Tell me what’s on your mind, Becca.” He leans forward, lightly stroking the edges of his coffee cup. Despite myself, my vision snags on his long fingers and the way they caress the plastic like he’s imagining it to be something else entirely.
I swallow hard, my cheeks full of heat. “Why do I get the feeling it’s not a conversation you wanted privacy for?”
“Because even though we’ve spent far too little time together, Becca, you do know what I’m like.” His eyes turn dark, and his voice drops an octave. “And you know what I want. And how I want it.”
This whole thing is going in a completely different direction than I intended, and I feel powerless to stop it. Instead, I’m lured in. By his gaze, by his words, by his hands. My body aches to be nea
r him. It takes all my self-control not to leap across the desk and wrap my thighs around his waist.
But that’s what got us into this whole mess to begin with. Surely I can control my hormones long enough to tell him what he needs to hear.
“You’re worried about something,” he says as his gaze flicks to my hands and how they’re clutching the fabric of my skirt. “You’re tense. Come here and let me loosen you up a bit.”
“I ah…”
No, my mind screams. Or at least part of my mind. The other part has me standing and making my way over to his side of the desk. When I reach him, he turns my body so that my butt is right in his line of vision. A deep growl emits from his throat, sending a storm of goosebumps across my skin.
He stands, his warm hands trailing up my sides until they rest on my knotted shoulders. His fingers begin to press into me, kneading at the tension that has built up month after month after month. They dig deep, and they dig hard. Within moments, I’m putty in his hands, and I no longer remember my carefully formed reasons for staying as far away from him as I can.
I melt into his hands, letting myself fall against him. He holds me steady, like a grounding rock. But then his hands move south, and a far different feeling goes through me. An illicit excitement that pounds between my thighs. He reaches my ass, softly squeezing it, before slipping his fingers underneath my skirt.
My breath gets caught in my throat as I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you loosen up,” he murmurs into my ear. “I can rub and lick all this silly little tension right out of your gorgeous body…or is that not what you want, sweet Becca?”
“Oh, I want it,” I breathe, my chest heaving and my ears filling with static. “But we’re in your office…”
“The door is shut.” He slides his hand further underneath my skirt, his fingers now brushing against my clit. I shudder uncontrollably. Even though I know this is a terrible decision, it doesn’t matter. Not as long as I can feel his hands on me. “And no one in this company would dare open that door without an invitation.”
“They could hear us,” I say.
He smiles against my neck, dropping hot kisses along my tingling skin. “Then I guess you’ll need to be quiet. Do you think you can manage that?”
No, I think. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m going to give into this no matter how wrong it is.
When I offer up no hesitation, Adrian pushes my skirt up my hips and slides my panty hose down my thighs. He fingers my black lacy thong, an appreciative murmur rumbling from his throat. It thrills me to know that I’ve pleased him. Because I have to admit, I wore this thong just in case.
“How does this feel?” He whispers the words into my ear as his fingers dive underneath the lacy cloth, slipping against the wetness coating my thong. A moan builds in my throat but I swallow it down, writhing as his finger pulses against my swollen clit. “God, you’re wet, Becca. I love how turned on you get from my touch.”
“And I love how hard I make your cock,” I whisper myself, words I never though I’d say aloud. His hip presses against my butt cheek, and his rock hard length throbs against me, wanting me just as much as I’m wanting him. It makes me feel powerful, wanted, needed. All these nights I’ve dreamt of him, he’s felt the same.
“Only you,” he says before nipping my ear. “Always and only you.”
He presses against my back until I’m smashed against his office desk, my cheek sliding against his sleek wood. His other hand still rubs against me, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my aching body. I could come, just like this, but it’s not how I want to finish. I want to feel him, all of him, humming inside my pussy as we shatter together as one.
And then I want to do it all over again.
10
Adrian
“I need you,” she pants, dripping with desire. Her wetness feels so damn good that I can barely think straight. I want to taste it, to lick it, to drink in every last drop of her milky juice. “Please. Fuck me now.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper, too worried about the rest of the office hearing to let herself speak louder than that. But the possibility of getting caught only turns me on even more, as if we’re doing something very naughty, something very dangerous.
I drop down to my knees and spread open her thighs, staring at her perfect pink lips. My tongue darts out, and I groan when I taste her silky sweetness. It’s even better than I expected, and I know I could spend the rest of my life sucking on her gorgeous pussy, and I’d be the happiest man in the world.
“Oh my god,” she says as she shudders, pressing her body harder onto my mouth.
“That’s right,” I murmur with a smile. “Sit on my face, baby. I want you to grind your pussy against my mouth.”
And so she does, her hips bucking as she moves against me. I lick and suck, flicking my tongue across her clit and into her folds. In only moments, she almost screams aloud as new, intense shudders pound through her. She’s coming all over my face, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
As the shudders begin to fade, she collapses on my desk with her ass still high in the air, panting and whispering her pleasure aloud.
She’s been satisfied, very much so if her murmurs are any indication, but I’m not fucking done with her yet. My cock strains for her, and my heart does as well.
Within moments, my throbbing dick slams into her, and she gasps out a cry of surprise. For a moment, I pause, unsure if she’s ready, unsure if I’ve taken it too fucking fast. But then she raises her ass higher in the air and grinds against me, and I pick up my pace once again.
I pound against her, gripping her curvy hips and watching her sweet round ass bouncing in time to my trusts. My length hits the back of her, and she arches her back with a moan. God, she’s gorgeous. Perfect. Every single part of her.
And now she’s fucking mine.
With that thought in mind, my cock can’t wait even a second longer. My balls tighten, and my seed explodes from my rock hard dick, pouring inside her gorgeous pussy like a tidal wave.
It takes a few minutes for me to get my head back on straight and for Becca to catch her breath. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my day like this, but there’s work to be done, unfortunately.
I smack Becca’s gorgeous round ass when she shimmies down her skirt and straightens her slightly rumpled blouse. She looks like she’s been well fucked, which gives me immense satisfaction. I’ve claimed her as mine now, and there’s no going back.
“Get back to your desk, hot stuff,” I say with a wink. “And then come join me for another meeting during your lunch break.”
Her cheeks flame, though the desire in her eyes says it’s exactly what she wants to do. “Round two already? If we’re not careful, the whole office is going to figure out what we’re up to in here.”
“Let them find out,” I say, dropping one last hungry kiss on her lips. “I don’t fucking care.”
She beams, backing toward the door and giving me the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen. Even though I’ve just come—and really fucking hard—my cock is already straining to get back inside her perfect hot, tight wetness. If she doesn’t get out of my office right fucking now, I’m going to lose all self-control. I’ll have her clothes ripped in half instantly.
But then she disappears into the hallway, and it’s time for me to get back to work. I’m half-relieved and half-disappointed. As much as I’d like to spend my entire day fucking Becca every way I can possibly imagine, my company doesn’t run on auto-pilot, and I have a hell of a lot of work to get through.
When I load up my inbox, one email stands out from the rest. I shouldn’t open it. Hell, I never should have sent the request in the first place, but I’ve been too curious for my own damn good. It’s from Human Resources in response to my questions about Becca’s current situation. I wanted a little bit more information on my assistant, I said. And now here the answer is, blinking at me like a bright neo
n sign I should turn away from right now.
I shouldn’t pry into her private life, but I can’t stop my intense need to know. Maybe once I do, I can help her fix whatever’s gone wrong in her life.
But when I read the email, the shock that goes through me has nothing to do with helping her out and everything to do with feeling betrayed. Those two girls from her apartment building are her children. And she kept it from me.
Which means, despite everything she said, she does have another man in her life. Their father.
I can’t believe how big a fool I’ve been.
11
Becca
Adrian calls me back into his office only fifteen minutes after I return to my desk. Wow, this man is absolutely insatiable, but I can’t help but feel a little pleased that he wants me again so soon. It feels good to be wanted, especially by the only man in the world I want myself.
But when I step back inside his office, I can immediately tell that something is very wrong. This isn’t about sex. His face wouldn’t be as white as a sheet, and his fists wouldn’t be gripped tightly by his sides. He looks scared, pissed off…hurt.
What the hell happened in fifteen minutes to get him this way?
“Becca,” he says in a tight voice. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t think this is going to work out.”
My heart throbs painfully, and I take a quick step back. “What?”
“I’m going to have to let you go,” he says. “Pack up anything you’ve brought in with you and hand back the credit card. That will be all.”
He turns his back on me, his entire body humming from an emotion I don’t understand. This can’t be real. He can’t be serious. There’s no way we went from ultimate intimacy to this in practically a blink of an eye.
“Is this some kind of cruel joke?” I ask, pressing a hand to my racing heart.
