by Vivian Wood
They must be close to home, judging by the fact that she’d woken up about fifteen minutes ago. She watched his face as he drove, and wondered what he was thinking.
He slowed the Tesla down, and took a sharp right turn into the parking deck of his building. He looked over at her, and she opened her eyes fully.
“Hey,” he said, his mouth turning up. “We’re at my place. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and raising her seat. “Are we stopping for something?”
“I thought we could stay here tonight,” he said, glancing away.
Staying at his place wasn’t that unusual of a request. She just hadn’t been prepared for it.
“Oh. Uh… okay.”
He frowned.
“Are you sure?” he said as he slid into a spot.
“I would definitely tell you if I wasn’t.”
“Alright,” he said, turning the car off. “Let’s go upstairs, then.”
She got out, looking around the below-ground parking deck. It was gray and dark, with lots of fancy cars parked in it. Smith opened the trunk and took their bags out, then headed for the elevator.
Cameron followed him into the elevator. He smiled at her as they rode up to the penthouse. She found herself looking at him, in his black t-shirt and black jeans, and blushing. She could admit it to herself. He was hot as hell, and he hadn’t even done anything special to merit it.
She could see the definition of his arms and chest from here, and it was almost too much to handle. The elevator chimed, the doors opening.
“After you,” he said, tilting his head.
“Thanks,” she said, stepping into a boring white hallway. She expected that she was supposed to move down the hallway toward a sleek steel door.
He moved around her so that he got to the door first, dropping the suitcases on the floor. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
“Ladies first,” he said.
She smiled and stepped inside. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, maybe some austere white space. But this was anything but austere. The space had dark teak wood floors, white walls, huge windows, and colorful pieces of art here and there. They entered through the kitchen, seeing white cabinets, dark countertops, and a stainless steel island.
“This is really something,” she said, looking around the kitchen.
“I’ll let the architect know that you approve,” he said, moving the luggage inside.
She looked at him, and saw the flash of humor in his eyes. She scowled.
“It’s not everyday that I’m in a place like this,” she said. “Not everyone has the luxury.”
His face changed from amused to regretful.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. Come see the rest.”
She reluctantly allowed him to take her hand and show her the living room, the home gym, the home office, the spare bedroom, and his own bedroom.
“Saved the best for last,” he joked, turning on the lights in his bedroom.
The room was very much him, all dark wood and navy walls. The bed looked impossibly crisp and white; she wondered when was the last time he’d slept in it.
“It looks like you,” she said, wandering in. A tall bookshelf housed a lot of stylish books, while the wall just to the left had a very small Renoir.
She almost asked if it was the real thing, then thought better of it. It certainly wouldn’t help her sleep if the painting were real.
“You like Michael Chabon?” she asked, going back to the bookshelf.
“Yes. I read a lot of his works during uni,” he said.
He took off his boots, then sat down on the bed. He reached over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer out. He fished around in it, then produced a key card.
“For me?” she said when he handed it to her. “To get into this apartment?”
“For you,” he affirmed. “For emergencies.”
She smiled playfully.
“Do all your executive assistants get one?” she asked coyly.
He looked her up and down. She felt shy, like she should have worn more than the flimsy cotton dress she’d thrown on. He grabbed her hands when she made to cover herself, then pulled her onto his lap.
She flushed hot. Straddling him like this, it was impossible not to feel his hardened cock through his jeans.
“Definitely not,” he said, sliding his hand into her hair and bringing her down to meet his lips.
She kissed him, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body. He moved down to kiss her neck, which made her shudder with pleasure. He squeezed one of her breasts. Her body burned for his, the fire spreading first between her breasts and then down between her legs.
She rocked her hips against his, craving his touch there. He sucked in a breath as her hand crept down between their bodies.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling her head back. “I want you to get off my lap and get naked.”
She bit her lip, pushing off of him. He released her hair, getting up.
“Naked,” he reiterated. “And on the edge of the bed. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared, leaving her to strip down. She took off her dress, toeing off her heels. She hesitated, then unhooked her bra and took that off. She waited for a second to see if Smith would reappear, but he didn’t.
Cam pushed her tiny thong down her legs, stepping out of it. She moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down.
He came back, wielding a popsicle and… a cucumber. Her eyes went wide.
“A cucumber?” she said. The very idea of using a cucumber made her squirm. Wasn’t that what he was for?
He grinned. He tossed the cucumber on the bed, pulling his t-shirt off over his head. He looked appreciatively at her naked body, her nipples alert.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, coming over to stand between her legs. “Just be with me, Cameron.”
He tore the wrapper off the popsicle, revealing the flavor. It was yellowish-orange, and after he tasted it, he gave her a taste. It was sweet but light.
He knelt down between her knees, sucking on the popsicle. She couldn’t help but stare at him, at the way his mouth and throat worked as he sucked on the popsicle.
“It’s sweet,” he said, his eyes dark. “But not as sweet as you.”
He kissed her, the fruity flavor of the popsicle still on his tongue. Then he pulled back, brushing the popsicle over the tip of her breast. He followed the cold of the popsicle with the heat of his mouth, using his tongue.
She moaned and thrust her chest out. The hot and cold sensations were so opposite, raising goosebumps across her flesh. She could feel everything so much more sharply as he abraded her nipple with his tongue.
She cried out. He pushed her back on the bed, bringing the popsicle down lower. She bucked once, but he stopped.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound, or I will stop. Do you understand?”
Her oversexed brain made her sit up and stare at him like an idiot.
“Was I not clear?” he said.
“No, you were,” she said.
“Good. That’s the last I want to hear from you,” he said, pushing her back down. He kissed her inner thigh, and she had to grip the sheets not to squirm or moan.
His tongue followed the popsicle to her belly button, to her hip bone, then down between her legs. By the time he brushed the popsicle over her clit, she was ready to scream, she wanted to cum so badly.
The popsicle disappeared. He knew her body, knew that she wanted to cum. He took his time slowly licking and sucking at her clit. She was panting, trying not to beg as he wrung every last drop of pleasure from her flesh.
He stopped for a second, and she audibly whined. He moved to retrieve the cucumber, but before she could protest, he returned to lick her clit in slow, lazy circles.
She was desperate for him, desperate to cum. He took full advantage, easing the cucumber against her lower lips. She made a sound, a kind of whimper,
and he took his mouth away again.
Fuck, she really needed to cum. She could feel her body weeping for him, felt her lubricant soaking the sheets. She shut her mouth and went still, willing him to continue.
He pressed against her pussy lips with the cucumber. She was so wet, it slid partially in with no resistance. God, the pressure of the cucumber felt good, like a dildo.
He withdrew it, kissing her clit once more. She couldn’t be quiet, so she groaned softly. He didn’t pause, just moved the cucumber in again, licking her clit.
She grabbed the sheets, knowing that she was going to cum soon. She felt her thighs shake as he French kissed her. As he moved his tongue, he gently pulled the cucumber out of her, and moved it to her ass instead.
She was shocked enough to make a noise, but luckily this time he didn’t stop licking. He turned up the volume of his French kiss as he gently pressed the cucumber against her rear entrance.
That was enough for Cam, whose eyes rolled back in her head as she clenched and shook. She felt enraptured, but even as she was drifting down, he was preparing for more. He shed his jeans, his expression intense.
He got up, putting the cucumber aside. Flipping her over on her hands and knees, he smacked her ass once.
“I want to have you bare,” he murmured. “Nothing between us.”
“I’m on birth control,” she said, looking back at him with a seductive smile. “I’ve never… not used protection, but I’m safe.”
Smith actually growled his excitement. He pushed her thighs apart and pressed himself against her pussy. He felt so huge from this angle, impossibly big.
He used a little of her lubrication to push himself halfway in. They both groaned. He wrapped her long red hair in his fist, withdrew slightly, and then hammered home.
She cried out, the pleasure bordering on pain. He was so big, filling every single inch of her, touching every secret spot inside.
He grasped one of her hips and started thrusting slowly. She shuddered as he withdrew and then filled her completely, again and again. Smith increased his speed, gripping her hair and fucking her harder.
She moaned, feeling him filling every inch of her pussy. He shifted, hitting her G-spot.
“Ah!” she called. “God, right there!”
“You like that?” he growled. “I want you to cum so hard. I want to feel you clenching around my cock.”
She groaned as he hit her G-spot over and over, his thrusts as rapid as gunfire. Everything inside her body tightened.
“Oh god… oh god, Smith, I’m cumming!” she cried, clenching around his cock. She felt like she was exploding, her eyes rolling back in her head.
He groaned as he came, finishing with a final thrust. He loosened his hold on her hair, leaning forward to kiss her lower back. She collapsed on the bed, giving a breathless chuckle.
He withdrew, falling onto the bed beside her. She swept her hair over her shoulder and rolled over, facing him. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Shit,” he said. “Just… damn. You nearly melted my spine that time.”
She laughed and nodded, then moved to pull the comforter over her sweat-slicked skin. He gave her a quick kiss, then jumped up.
“You’re not a pile of mush?” she asked, snuggling down amongst the covers.
“I haven’t checked my emails since this morning,” he said with a smile. “Let me grab my laptop, and then I will happily be a pile of mush with you.”
“Okay,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Whatever you say.”
He disappeared, returning to the bedroom with his laptop. She watched him settle down on the bed beside her. He glanced at her once, smiling. Then he fell into work mode, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he frowned.
She smiled and closed her eyes, relaxing. She drowsed while he read for a couple of minutes, until he made a noise of disapproval.
“Hmm?” she asked, sleepily opening her eyes.
“It’s just… I have a bunch of emails from the company’s accountants,” he said, scrolling down. “They have a lead on some money transfers within the company, like several hundred transactions.”
Cam’s eyes snapped open. She’d wondered when he’d find out about that, but she hadn’t thought she’d be around for it.
“Uhhh…” was all she could come up with. “What?”
“So I have been investigating the company’s top management, trying to figure out who could be diverting funds from the company’s coffers,” he said. “This confirms that it’s got to be one of the top five managers. They’re the only ones with access to move money around like this.”
She was silent, figuring it would be best to let him work it out for himself. He sighed, closing the laptop and setting it on the bedside table.
“The weird thing is that although there were hundreds of small transactions within the company’s accounts, the overall amount of money seems to be the same.”
“That’s odd,” she said, sliding down lower under the covers.
“Sorry, I know you’re ready to go to sleep,” he said. “I can worry about this tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll tell anyone, right?”
His eyes sparkling with humor, he leaned over, pulling down the comforter. She swallowed.
“Um, no?” she squeaked.
He kissed her on the lips, then turned off the light on the bedside table. He turned on his side, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
“Goodnight,” he said.
“Night,” she said.
She listened to his breathing even out, feeling guilty. She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.
18
Cameron walked into the coffee shop, looking over her shoulder lest she was being followed. No one was in the parking lot, so she took off her oversized sunglasses and looked around. There were a few people scattered amongst the tables, and two bored baristas behind the counter.
“Cameron!” Erika called, waving. “Over here!”
Cam spotted Erika in the back of the cafe, and headed over to her.
“Hey,” she said. She smiled at Erika’s yoga pants, skimpy tank top, and bright blonde hair, thrown into a high bun. Erika was more about work and less about letting conventions get in her way.
It was one of the reasons that Cam liked her.
“What’ve you got for me?” Erika asked as Cam sat down.
“Well… I think I have some really damning evidence,” she said.
“So you said, when we talked on the phone earlier.”
Cam reached in her purse and touched the papers she’d stolen from Spencer Calloway’s desk, but hesitated. If she handed them over, that was it. The paper would run the story, Smith would be ruined, and Cam would be left to pick up the pieces.
“So, what have you got for me?” Erika asked. “The editorial board is hounding me.”
“Well… I have some evidence, but I didn’t bring it with me.”
Erika’s brows arched.
“Is that right?”
“I’m not ready to turn it over. I’m not completely convinced that Spencer Calloway doesn’t know that I know. I’m still trying to figure him out.”
“But you did get something, right?”
“I got a list of account transfers. It lists the dollar amounts of account balances, and it shows that someone took the employee pension down to a thousand dollars. I also overheard Spencer Calloway talking about how he was planning to cover it up, and dump the remaining mess in his son’s lap.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“His office at their estate in (town). The son doesn’t know that much, thank god. Spencer was pretty cavalier about the whole thing over the phone though, considering how… well, bad it is.”
“Yeah…” Erika said. “It’s ballsy. And it absolutely reeks of corruption.”
“Is it enough? To publish, I mean?”
“It’s substantial. One of those pieces of paper has a lot of numerical figures on it, and that
will likely turn out to be fairly damning. Still, if you can find anything else that will back it up…” Erika waved a hand. “I think there’s got to be something else. A memo, or an email… something that will corroborate your evidence.”
“Corroborate? You said the editorial board believed me. You said they had faith in my assignment.”
“Well, they do. It’s just…” Erika paused. Something about the expression on her face made Cam’s stomach sink. “Alright. They don’t exactly know that you’re working for Calloway.”
Cam’s heart stopped. “What??”
“They think we just have moles that already worked for the company. Your involvement is… well, the board doesn’t know that you’re involved, honestly.”
Cam was shocked. She sat there with her hands in her lap, speechless.
“Oh, don’t look like that,” Erika said. “I’m going to tell them. We’ll have to, if your byline is going to be on the story.”
“You didn’t tell them anything about me? Where do they think I’ve been?” Cam asked.
“Errr… I might’ve let them think that you didn’t come in, and I fired you.”
Cam felt like she was being smothered, as if someone had her in a choke hold. “You… you… bitch!”
Erika’s features pinched, growing cold.
“Essentially, without my say-so, you don’t work for The Daily News anymore. So you’d better get some corroborating evidence, and you’d better get it fast. I’m willing to give you one more week.”
Erika stood and grabbed her briefcase. Cam shot to her feet, looking to defend herself.
“You don’t have my evidence,” Cam said, her voice shaking.
“No, but you told me what it is. I have other sources working for Calloway. I can get copies of anything.”
“What did you assign me to this case for, then?” Cam said, her voice rising.
Erika gave her a flat look. “Because. I needed someone to poke around. Now I’m offering you what you want — get some more evidence, then come back to the paper a hero. So stop whining, and get it done!”
