by Lynda Aicher
“I’m sure you could resched—”
“I can’t,” Brie cut her mother off, adding a deep layer of regret to her voice. “I’m sorry.” She included a sad frown to sell her tale. “Maybe next week? Will he still be here?”
“No.” Rose released a disappointed sigh. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”
A small cheer went up in Brie’s head for the dodge that wasn’t her fault. Michael’s well-timed call, whether it was real or faked, let her avoid a setup she was too old for.
Rose said her goodbyes and Brie did the same shortly after.
“You don’t have to rush off,” her mother admonished as she checked her watch.
“I’m sure you already have your afternoon planned,” she said, knowing she was right. Her mother preferred to stay busy, a trait she’d given to Brie. “And it’s almost Dad’s tee time.”
“I’ve got a few minutes, yet,” her dad said, but he’d already flagged down their server for their tab.
“We’ll see you next week, right?” Her mother waited with raised expectations even though Brie’s attendance was basically mandatory.
“Like clockwork.” She smiled through the glib response and grabbed her bag. “I love you.” She gave both parents a quick kiss and made her exit before Rose’s son made an early reappearance.
And what would he think of her upcoming sex plans? What would these prim women with their stifled views and proper images think? She snorted at her own delusions. She’d obviously drunk the Kool-Aid if she believed that a single person in this place was what they appeared to be.
People hid so much, including herself. It was past time she had something good to hide. Like another night of wild, hedonistic sex with multiple men she didn’t know.
What were the chances that he’d be there again? The one man that still haunted her dreams and incited her fantasies even though she had no idea who he was?
Probably little to none, but she could still hope. After all, he was the primary reason she was going back. He and his warm touch and concerned voice. His strength and devious fingers. His sense of calm that countered the passion.
If it hadn’t been for him, she probably would’ve failed out of that night. But she hadn’t. Not by a long shot. And she wouldn’t the next time.
Chapter Ten
The darkness cloaking the building enhanced the deadly silences as Ryan strode down the hallway, senses pinging out for any sign of life. The solitude sunk into his awareness, honed by years of being the sole person working late in his office.
But this wasn’t his office.
And he wasn’t alone.
He stopped outside the boardroom, one he’d been in multiple times before, both for business and private reasons. He could still turn around, but then he’d prove nothing.
Brighton Wakeford wasn’t an issue.
He stepped into the room, stopped. Every sense zeroed in on the woman sitting in the chair at the end of the table.
Brie.
A red piece of cloth covered her eyes and trapped her hair beneath its ties. The skimpy cover provided by her lacy black lingerie was more enticing than concealing. The outline of her nipples begged him to seek them out. And that thin piece of cloth between her legs did little to hide the secrets beneath.
The dark ends of her hair curled around her shoulders in sharp contrast to the pale tone of her skin. Skin he knew to be soft as silk beneath his fingertips.
His breath caught, need bursting free to wipe out every thought of leaving. He was here to fuck her. To drive her from his thoughts and burn her from his mind.
She was just a Boardroom fuck.
Her breasts rose and fell with each slow breath she took, their fullness enhanced by the subtle uplift of the bra. Did she wear that under her office clothes? Had she been wearing it last week when she’d sat on the other side of his desk?
This morning when they’d passed in the hallway?
His stomach clenched with an image he didn’t need. Not when he was trying to banish every sinful one of them.
He dragged his gaze over the room, flicked his brow up at Jacob, who stood with his arms crossed in the far corner. The man lifted his chin toward Brie, a slow smile spreading.
There was just the three of them so far.
He shot Jacob a half-grin, anticipation switching to excitement. The moon was out, the fog nonexistent further down the peninsula. The glow lit the room just enough to shove back the dark. The office building rose above the surrounding area to provide a view of the bay and the long line of the San Mateo Bridge. Car lights glimmered white, yellow and red against the black of the water and night.
A lamp sat unlit on the credenza behind her. A part of him wanted to turn it on and tempt others to see. But it wasn’t his scene or call.
Jacob had organized it again. Another scene for his birthday-girl guest. Only it wasn’t her birthday this time.
Brie had asked to come back. The stunning, surprising Brie.
One night of excess could be excused by anyone. A second, deliberate return was completely different.
He could’ve—should’ve—ignored the post. But how could he miss this?
He dragged his gaze down to her spread legs, finally noting the loose pull of her arms behind the chair. Bound?
Fuck.
The knot in his stomach sunk lower to untangle in his groin. Was this a gift or a punishment?
Neither.
It was just a scene.
He stripped off his suit jacket and slung it over the back of a chair along with his tie. Her slow breaths quickened. Did she sense him? Had she guessed who he was?
Had Jacob told her who was coming?
He rolled his cuffs up as he approached her. Her head tilted back, lips parting when he stopped before her. The fabric over her eyes didn’t hide her beauty, yet his fingers itched to lift it off.
Blue. Her eyes were blue.
A basic blue.
And he could still picture them. Studying him. Confused. Shaken, maybe? Her own intuition taking hold? Their meeting had been totally professional, despite the overriding desire he’d had to bend her over his desk and hear her passionate cries as he drilled her from behind.
He ran a finger down her jaw in a single stroke of introduction. Her breath hitched, lips parting further.
“Brie,” he said, dragging her name out, voice deepened to mask his identity. He probably shouldn’t speak, yet he couldn’t hold that back. Not in this room.
The Boardroom was the one place he could truly speak freely.
“You,” she whispered, so much hope and relief layered into that single word.
His heart stopped, stomach dropping.
“You came back,” she finished.
For one moment he thought he’d been identified. But he hadn’t. At least not back to their office. To being her boss.
“I did.” She tilted her head back as he drew his hand around the side of her neck and traced his thumb down the line of her throat. “Why the bonds?”
Her lip curled in to be trapped by her teeth before she let it slip out. “Jacob did it,” she finally answered.
He slid his fingers down, skimmed them over that teasing little mole on the edge of her collarbone. The one that played a game of hide-and-seek depending on the blouse she wore. The one that reminded him of the passion she hid and the secrets they shared.
He continued down, tracing a line beneath her bra strap, teasing, yet savoring the soft heat of her skin. “Do you like it?”
“Maybe.” The word was mouthed more than spoken.
Her chest lifted beneath his touch, those dark areolas tempting him beneath the lace. “Any new rules?”
Jacob had listed her limits, which remained the same as last time, but he had to check. Things could change once a scene began.
She
pushed her breasts up, back arching in invitation. “No.”
“Any desires?”
He ran his finger beneath her bra to rub it over her nipple. She sucked in a breath, held it. He started a slow back-and-forth over the soft nub as it started to harden. Her breath released on a soft sigh.
“You.” She winced. “Please.”
He bit back the curse that wanted to burst free. His heart pinched but he ignored the strange pain as heat whipped through him.
“I want you to fuck me,” she went on. “Please.”
His dick went from interested to hell yes in a breath. How could this be the calm, organized woman from his office?
He ran his finger up to trail a circle around the edge of her lips. The red stain was a few shades darker than the material covering her eyes and highlighted each lush curve. They parted again, her tongue playing on the inner edge.
The slight change in her request wasn’t a mistake. She didn’t make those.
“Should I fuck you from behind?” he asked, teasing her bottom lip. The image of her bent over his desk hadn’t faded in the days since their meeting. “Over the table?” Where he could control the pace, the depth, the entire experience.
Her breaths deepened, a low rumble filtering out. “Yes. That.”
Sheer will held back the predatory growl in his chest, his dick flooding with desire. Did she know what she was doing to him? How crazy just the thought made him?
He cupped her chin, lifted it higher. She gulped, swallowed. A shiver shook her upper body, but she didn’t object.
Power surged up to nip at the drive that’d dug him out of an abusive childhood. He owned this scene and by extension her—for tonight.
“What if you don’t like something?” he challenged, his hand drifting down to encircle her throat. He was testing her in a rather dickish way. Yet he loved the rapid thump of her pulse beneath his thumb, the excitement racing over his skin.
Her throat bobbed beneath his palm, her jaw flexing. “I say stop.”
The firm beat of her words sent a jolt of pride humming through his chest. She wouldn’t be pushed around—unless she wanted to be.
He dipped, inhaled. Right there, near her ear. That elusive fresh-yet-naughty scent wove into him, triggering the hard flutter of want eager to break free.
He straightened, glanced over his shoulder. Jacob remained in the same position, a satisfied smile on his face. He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and shifted enough to see another man in the opposite corner. Trevor James. The Boardroom founder and overseer.
When had he snuck in? Why was he here? He hadn’t been on the scene list earlier today.
Trevor lifted his chin and motioned for Ryan to continue.
The quick bite of tension eased. Apparently, the two of them were going to be center stage tonight. It was a prospect he usually avoided, but tonight, with her, the rightness hummed through him.
And he didn’t have the willpower to question it.
Chapter Eleven
The soft rub of his palm around her throat shouldn’t have been erotic. It was.
Brie’s breaths grew clipped, each hitch emphasizing the power he had over her. The knowledge buzzed in her mind and crowded next to the lust she couldn’t seem to control. But she didn’t have to here. Not with him.
Him.
After weeks of dreaming and days of imagining this very scenario, he was here.
The thrill of that alone ignited a frantic beat of hunger and longing she couldn’t contain. And she didn’t have to. That’s why she’d come back. Not seeking him, yet seeking him.
Yes, she’d hoped he’d be here, but Lori had warned her it might not happen. That each scene was unique, the participants random.
And he was still here. Did it mean something?
No. Not above having amazing sex.
Wild. Debauched. Totally naughty sex.
He dipped low, his presence snapping over her nerves as he hovered near her ear. Again. She tensed, waited. For a kiss? A whispered word? A command?
That wonderful scent that was only his flowed into her on a slow inhalation. She scrambled to identify the fragrance without success. It was just him.
“There are two other men here,” he told her, his breath pooling on her neck. She shivered as the heat spread over her chest, teasing her more. Her nipples ached for attention, like her lips. Would he kiss her again? Claim her with his strength?
“They’re going to watch us.” He reached behind her, the hand on her throat tightening incrementally. Not threateningly, but enough to make her pulse race harder. Faster.
There was a tug on the cloth binding her wrists before they were freed. A wave of relief collided with confusion as her arms lowered.
“I have other plans for you.”
Goose bumps sprang up on every exposed part of her flesh. How was that possible when she was anything but chilled? But the softer tone of his words managed to wrap their way around her heart. She still trusted him.
Trusted everything.
How could a location she didn’t know with a group of men she’d barely, if ever, met be a safe zone? She didn’t know the answer, but it was. And it was heaven.
The gentle urging on her arm had her standing, his hand still on her throat. She swayed, forced a hard swallow through the impossible arch of her neck. Her mind seemed to float in a sea of detached awareness.
This was freedom.
From expectations. From being in control.
From the fears that’d lined every action, every thought, every deliberate step she’d taken.
Here, in this room, she was simply his.
His thumb edged her jaw in a firm rub over her chin. She rolled her head, savoring the slow drift that was tender yet not. A soft purr vibrated in her throat as she sank into his power.
“I can’t believe you came back,” he murmured, the words brushing over her cheek. He was so close, yet she didn’t touch him. No, her hands were clasped behind her back, her chest thrusting up to him. There was strength in that too. In giving everything to him.
He skimmed his fingers down her abdomen as he slowly withdrew his grip on her neck. She swallowed on reflex, part of her mourning the loss of that possessive hold. He eased that hand around to her nape, the other hand slipping beneath the scrap of material claiming to be a thong.
She inhaled, stomach contracting. He teased the soft down of hair on her mound, that taunting awareness zinging down her pussy.
“I’m going to taste you tonight.” The promise held strong even though his tone was low. She nearly screamed yes, only her voice was gone.
“Lick you.” He slid a single finger between her folds, flicked it over her clit. Her knees bent, desire snaking out to churn with the building heat.
“Suck you.” That naughty finger of his dipped into her. Her breath caught, trapped until he drew his hand back up.
He leaned down, his presence wrapping around her. Her breaths bounced off his to warm her lips and confirm she was still breathing. Expectation crawled over her skin, sunk into her chest, embraced her hope until she could think of nothing but the touch of his lips on hers.
The kiss she’d been longing for since his last soft goodbye.
“Then I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered, each syllable peppering her lips with his promise.
“Yes,” she finally managed to say. “Please.”
His deep growl was cut off by the seal of his lips over hers. She moaned in response, mouth opening to take him in. God, yes. This. This and so much more.
He swept his tongue in, his hand on her nape holding her steady as he overpowered her. And she let him, her back dipping, muscles relaxing to melt into him. Every hard swipe was countered by a softer brush until it meshed into a wild crush of longing.
She gripped his shoulders, need
ing to be closer, wanting more. The freedom sang in her head and hummed in her blood. This. This. This.
Her control was forgotten as she pushed back, her tongue dueling with his. Each attack was met with a counter until a harmony was found. The rightness screamed over her senses when he gentled, slowed, frantic bleeding to savoring on a soft glide.
A hand on the small of her back urged her closer. Her hips met his on a cry of yes. His erection ran hard and firm up her lower abdomen to declare his passion. She’d been the cause of it. Her.
How could she not fall farther? Sink deeper?
She ran a hand up the back of his head, his hair tickling her palms, the strands soft yet coarse. Short. Professional. A little longer on top. Was it black? Blond? Brown?
He drew away, and her lips pulsed with each beat of her heart. Her chest heaved with the breath she couldn’t seem to catch. Words were gone, thoughts scattered as he urged her forward three steps.
He came around behind her, his hands skimming over her ribs and stomach before settling on her hips, drawing her back. She went willingly, resting into him. His shirt was almost abrasive against her skin, yet the cloth was soft. He rocked his hips, ran the length of his erection up the curve of her ass.
Her moan tore out on a rush of hunger. Want burned in her groin, the ache to be filled throbbing a demanding cadence.
“You’re stunning,” he said by her ear. He cupped her breasts, lifted them. “Every inch of you.” He ran his palms down to her pussy.
Her legs dipped, a cry escaping. She reached back, gripping his ass for support. She squeezed, torn between awe at the firm muscles that clenched beneath her hands and the slow rub on her pussy.
“Can you feel them watching you?” He drew his tongue up the side of her neck, a finger sliding beneath her thong.
Need built in cresting waves that pummeled her reservations and lifted her higher. Her skin prickled with heat, over-sensitized by the thought of being watched. Of being on display like this.
She tilted her head, hips rolling into his touch. “I like it,” she admitted. She’d analyze the implications later, but right now—it was amazing. Behind the mask, she could be this woman.
