Dirty Little Quickies

by Shanora Williams

  His sandy-blonde hair was styled in the perfect cut, tapered on the sides and a little lengthier at the top. It seemed he combed and gelled it every morning, but also messed with it a lot with his fingers on his way to work. He had a cowlick that made him seem boyish, but trust me, he was anything but.

  He wore a blue three-piece Armani suit with a silky light blue tie to match. And his face. My word, his face was perfectly sculpted and shaped. A cut and narrow jaw, a strong, square chin, dusty with scruff, and a straight and narrow nose that led to full, suckable lips. I liked when he didn’t shave, though I knew his mother hated it. To her, and apparently, the rest of the industry, it made him appear less professional.

  His eyes were the iciest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Bright and always freezing me in place. I knew what was beneath the immaculate suit he wore. Oh, believe me, I knew all about it and felt heat build up in my chest just thinking about it.

  “Miss Taylor,” Jude said. “Why are you in my office? You know you’re not supposed to be in here when I arrive.”

  I finally let a breath slip out, fidgeting on my six-inch heels now. “Don’t call me Miss Taylor. You know I don’t like that.”

  With a small smirk, he pulled his eyes away, walking on the opposite side of the room to get behind his desk. He was closer now and I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and leather and all the finer things.

  Casually sliding his hands into his front pockets, he turned to look at me—all of me. His hungry eyes scanned my entire body, sticking mainly on my breasts and my legs. “In here, it’s Mr. Clement to you, and you are Miss Taylor to me. You know this.”

  Yeah, before things got a little too hot and heavy between us. I ignored his remark. There was no need for formalities after that.

  “Jude, I want to talk about yesterday,” I said, cutting right to the chase.

  I saw his jaw clench then, his icy eyes boring into mine. “You know we don’t talk about Sundays here.”

  “Yeah, I know, but…I heard you say something. And it had me thinking all night. I know I’m not crazy…I just—”

  “Sometimes you can be,” he said with snide, turning and sitting in his big leather chair. “Crazy,” he added on, like I didn’t understand. He moved the mouse to his computer, logging into it. He was deflecting. Normally I would let him get away with this—walk away and go about my business—but not today.

  I’d had enough of his mind games.

  I grabbed the armrest of his chair and spun him around to face me. He frowned up at me, ready to lash out, but before I could think about what I did next, my lips were already on his, my ass sinking sideways into his lap.

  I hooked my right arm around the back of his neck, staining him with ruby red lipstick, not giving a damn how he felt about it.

  Because I heard him yesterday.

  I fucking heard him.

  But he didn’t care because he didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t put any effort into it. He never did. I couldn’t understand why I kept trying. My effort seemed stupid and futile. Jude gripped my face tight between his fingers and snatched his lips away. He glared at me but I pulled my face away, sliding off of his lap and standing again, breathing a little harder.

  “What exactly did you hear me say, Jenna?” he asked, rising from his chair, stepping closer. God, Jude was a beast. A sexy, delicious, wicked, all-consuming beast that made my heart drum and my knees wobble. His chest bumped mine, his breathing ragged, and yep—his lips were smeared with my lipstick, along with the skin beneath his bottom lip.

  He used his thumb to wipe most of it away, but kept his eyes hard on me.

  I hesitated. Suddenly, I didn’t want to tell him, not with his icy gaze penetrating me, diving deep into my soul, freezing every word that was trying to form.

  “That you—”

  “That I what?” He tipped his chin, bringing a hand up and pressing it into the back of my neck to tilt my chin, too.

  “That you like being around me,” I whispered on his lips. I ached, wanting his lips on mine. Needing it so badly. I expected a kiss—one sweet, delicious, real kiss—but he paused. His mouth was so close to mine I could feel the heat of them. His chest pushed into my bosom.

  “We fuck on Sundays, behind closed doors—away from the world,” he murmured on my lips. “I fuck the shit out of you and you love it, but that’s it. All we are doing is fucking, Jenna. We don’t get to like each other. We don’t get to let ourselves sink too deep, so whatever you think you heard me say, you are sadly mistaken.”

  My thudding heart slammed to a standstill. He slowly withdrew, holding my gaze for a brief moment, before stepping away and sitting in his chair again.

  I stood there like a damn idiot, eyes ahead, trying to collect my thoughts. He didn’t like me. Of course, he didn’t.

  This arrangement wasn’t created to like each other. It was created for the enjoyment, the satisfaction. The irresistible tug and pull that we’d constantly put up with until, finally, he’d shown up at the office after hours, bent me over on his desk, and fucked me from behind while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. And before he left that same night, he told me it wouldn’t stop—that he needed more.

  Only, he wasn’t supposed to want or need more because his family wouldn’t have accepted it. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. I was just the secretary, yet that didn’t matter to him. He still wanted me, so we had to do this quietly. Secretly.

  That’s when the hotel bookings started—the early Sunday mornings leading into satisfied Sunday evenings. But not this past Sunday. No, on that Sunday, my mind was unsatisfied.

  “You can go now, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Clement said, typing on his keyboard, replying to an email. It was Mr. Clement to me, because that’s who he was here. Not Jude. Not Judas. Clement. Only Clement. I was never to get too comfortable. That was his rule.

  I swallowed my heart, which was lodged in my throat several seconds ago, and turned away from him, walking to his office door.

  “Oh, and Jenna,” Mr. Clement called. I looked back, my heart catching speed, but he wasn’t even looking at me. He was still focused on his computer screen.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Get me a coffee, will you?” he requested. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  Defeat washed through me, pouring through my veins, pungent like gasoline. I blinked rapidly and nodded, but my heart was slowly breaking to pieces. “Of course, Mr. Clement.”

  THREE

  JUDAS

  I watched her walk out of my office in those sexy-as-hell clothes, with her chin up and her head held high like she didn’t care, but I knew her. I knew her all too well.

  I hated this charade—the games I had to play just to keep her on a leash. Jenna Taylor was nothing but pussy to me. Good pussy, I could admit—always fresh and delivered to me on Sunday mornings. She was the best breakfast any man could ask for. I knew what she was talking about. I knew exactly what I’d said. I’d had a little too much to drink and she was curled up on my chest. She felt good—too damn good with her ass cupped in my hand and her full tits on me. When she pulled away, I felt like something was missing. Like I needed her there, but I wasn’t going to confess that truth.

  I was Judas Clement, the best damn architect in California. I had women lined up and my call list was a mile long. I didn’t fall for women—it was pointless with the lifestyle I led. I wasn’t the type to settle down. I traveled too much and worked too damn hard to bother.

  Plus, with the traveling, came the women. And my fucking word, there were a lot of them for me to choose from.

  But I had to admit, since this arrangement started between Jenna and me three months ago, I hadn’t slept with another woman. Somehow, after leaving the hotel rooms every Sunday night, I was satisfied for an entire fucking week, ready for the next Sunday to arrive. Ready to be balls-deep in Jenna Taylor’s pussy.

  I could never go a day without thinking about fisting her honey-blond hair while fucking her from the back, watchin
g her thick, creamy ass jiggle on my dick. Or having her suck my cock while fully naked, in front of the window that gave the perfect ocean view, all while I sipped my coffee.

  Her pussy wasn’t like the others. No, it was far from it. Hers was spectacular. So good I seemed to get lost in it. I couldn’t let her know that, though.

  She was getting too close, starting to figure me out. A part of me was tempted to cancel on her next Sunday, hope she got the memo that this was just for fun, but I craved her too much to let that happen. I was up for taking the risk if it meant I could come in her mouth every chance I could get.

  I ran a hand over my face, sitting back in my chair. I looked out the door and she sat behind the desk in the hallway with the phone to her ear. I could see her tits from here, full and perky, nearly popping out of her bra.

  She looked good enough to eat and she knew red on a woman was my thing. She wore that outfit to get a rise out of me. I don’t even think she realized how badly I wanted to shove that skirt up and fuck her with her red stilettos on.

  I dragged a finger under the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling too damn hot. Her bold emerald eyes flashed up to mine when she hung up the phone but I didn’t pull away, even though I should have. She stood up with a folder, stepping around the desk and coming to my office.

  I watched until she met on the opposite side of my desk, extending her arm and handing the folder to me. “Mr. Fox called, said he wanted to meet with you sometime this week. Should I pencil him in?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” I took the folder, dropping it on the desk. “Anything else?” I inquired.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, dropping her arm. Her green eyes bolted on mine, and her tongue ran over her bottom lip. Her hand went to her shirt, where the cut started, and she pulled it down, revealing a full rack. “I can feel you watching me. You’re looking at me because you want me,” she said breathlessly, and my cock throbbed instantly.

  She stood there like a fucking goddess, those perfect tits pointed right at me. Her nipples were light brown and erect.

  “Not here,” I mumbled, but I wanted to bite my fist, resist. Not here. Not fucking here in my place of work. Not again. That’s what hooked me the first time.

  “I don’t like waiting until Sunday, Jude,” she murmured, walking around my desk to get closer.

  I stood up, grabbing her arm and forcing her ass on the corner of my desk. A moan slipped out of her as I studied her lips and then her nipples.

  “And you think I do?” I growled. “You wore this on purpose. You have no idea how badly I want to rip these clothes off and fuck you on my desk.”

  “Then do it,” she tempted, smiling as the tip of my nose skimmed over hers.

  “No,” I mumbled, sliding my palm down her bare thigh. I moved my hand between her legs and dropped my forehead, my lips close to her nipples. “Christ, Jenna,” I rumbled. My cock was so hard. “You serious right now? Wearing red today and no panties?”

  A smile split her face, and that smile told me everything. She wanted me. She was trying to wrap me under her spell. Make me confess.

  I dropped my head lower, sucking her taut nipple into my mouth and thrusting my middle finger into her pussy. Her moan was hard and heavy, making my cock spasm. She was so wet. Already.

  I dragged my lips over to the other nipple, swirling my tongue around it before bringing my lips up to the shell of her ear.

  “This what you want?” I muttered in her ear.

  “Yes,” she breathed out, and her hand ran over my thigh, skimming my cock. My cock twitched, knowing the familiar touch all too well. I dropped my head, sucking on the bend of her neck. She smelled so good, like cherries and vanilla.

  I sucked her harder, dying to take my pants off and slam into her pussy.

  Jenna turned me on too much. I shouldn’t have wanted her this badly. I never wanted more than one taste from a woman but with Jenna, I’d had plenty and it still didn’t feel like enough.

  The phone rang at her desk, but I was too distracted by her moaning and the way she ran her hand over my cock to stop. I tilted my head back, just as she threw her hair over her shoulder. The fabric of her skirt had collected around her waist and I could see everything down there.

  Pulling my fingers out, I sat down in my chair, rolled toward her, and spread her legs wider apart when I was between them. My palm pressed on her chest and I forced her back, angling her hips so her pretty pussy was right in my face.

  She was always fresh and waxed. Bald and slick. She kept herself clean and ready between the legs, all for me and without even having to ask.

  The phone rang again. We both ignored it.

  I knew who was calling and I didn’t give a single fuck right now.

  “I’m going to eat your pussy, Jenna, but that’s all you’ll get from me,” I said. “Do you understand?”

  I gripped her hips, smirking up at her while she stared down at me with desperate eyes, like she really needed this.

  “Yes, please,” she begged.

  Oh, she didn’t have to beg me. I wanted the taste of her all over me. I wanted to eat her cunt like it was my last damn meal. Normally, I’d make her beg—demand an answer from her—but not this time. This time I was too impatient to wait for her to say anything else.

  My tongue slid through her slit, and I groaned when I finally got what I wanted—the sweet, sweet taste of her.

  “Damn,” I groaned. “Always so sweet.” I dove back in for another lick, clutching her hips tighter now. I was greedier than I should have been, burying my tongue in her pussy, fueling up on her moans and groans.

  Her fingers were in my hair and she brought my face closer, like she couldn’t get me close enough. I sucked on her clit, driving a finger inside her, peering up and watching as she came undone.

  “Ah, yes, Jude,” she cried softly. “Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop.”

  Oh, I wasn’t going to stop. Not until I made her pretty little pussy come all over my desk. I worked two fingers inside her, my tongue still lapping at her clit, triggering the spot I knew about all too well.

  “I’m going to come,” she breathed.

  I picked my head up, dropping the pad of my thumb on her clit. “I bet you wish it was my cock inside you, don’t you?” I murmured on her thigh. I kept playing with her pussy with my fingers, my thumb rubbing her clit, until she gasped for air.

  Jackpot.

  “Oh, Jude!” Her voice vibrated as she came. One of her hands clutched my other wrist, trying to hold steady.

  “You look so sexy when you come, babe.” I couldn’t help watching her. Watching as she shook with satisfaction, her full rosy lips spread apart, her eyes squeezed shut, holding onto me for dear life like she never wanted the orgasm to end.

  I finished her off with a kiss to her pelvis, just above the clit, and then withdrew, standing up between her legs.

  “You thought you could just walk into my office, show me your tits, and not get handled?” I smiled as she worked on catching her breath. “You got what you wanted. Get back to work now.”

  “No, I didn’t get what I wanted,” she said, and then looked down at the tent in my pants.

  “I’m not fucking you here. Especially not today.” I helped her off the desk. “She’ll smell you all over me.”

  She stood up, pulling her skirt down and fixing her shirt. I felt a clench in my gut when she put those perfect tits away. Disappointment, that’s what it was. Disappointed in myself for not fucking the shit out of her.

  “What’s happening today?” she asked, but deep down I was sure she already knew.

  “Michaela is coming for lunch,” I answered, and she swallowed thickly, sighing.

  “Oh, okay. Cool.” She nodded and stepped away, her eyes falling to the floor. She turned and walked out of my office without a word, taking the seat behind her desk again.

  I sat down too, struggling to pull my shit together. I was so close to calling her back in and having her drop to her knees, but I had to r
esist.

  I needed to lose this hard-on before Michaela arrived. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I didn’t want to see her. My mother insisted she come for lunch—she was treating me after all, like that made a fucking difference.

  I couldn’t stand Michaela. She was too posh. Too uppity. Yeah, I’d fucked her a few months ago, when she came by my place unexpectedly and I was too drunk to function, but that’s all she was. A quick fuck. One I couldn’t even remember. It’d only happened once.

  I was thirty years old, single, and had been since college. My parents always questioned why I wasn’t looking or settling down with any of their picks. They’d send the women to me, set up dates, and yeah, I had fucked a few of them here and there, but I never wanted more with any of them.

  They weren’t great at sex either. Half of them didn’t even know how to suck a cock, much less ride one. Just the thought of how some of them used their teeth while sucking me off made me cringe.

  Michaela was no better. She was okay at sucking cock, but she didn’t know how to ride me. I refused to marry a woman who didn’t know how to own it, fuck it, suck it, and bounce on it.

  And speaking of the devil, just as my hard-on settled down and I’d washed the smell of Jenna off my lips with several sips of coffee, the elevator chimed, the doors drew open, and out she came.

  FOUR

  JENNA

  Michaela King.

  I didn’t like her one bit, and not because she was stunning with perfect brown hair, freshly manicured nails, and a physique every woman would kill for. No, it was because she was full of herself, smelled like too much perfume, and always disregarded me when I was around.

  I also probably didn’t like her because she was what stood between Jude and me.

  It was frustrating when she popped up, touching his chest or arm, hugging him, telling him how much she’d missed him.

  Michaela sat down in the chair on the opposite side of his desk, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder. I could hear her obnoxious voice from where I sat. I mostly watched Jude, and how he bobbed his head, focusing more on his salad than the conversation shared with her.