by Lynda Aicher
“She’s beautiful.”
The new voice put her on alert. She stilled, head turning to the sound. Jacob was still in the room somewhere. Or at least she thought he was.
“I told you.”
There. In the other corner. His image floated into her head, but she quickly shoved it out. He was nice. He’d made her laugh on the way here. He never questioned her wants or made her feel badly about them.
But Jacob wasn’t him.
She shifted her weight back, leaning fully on him. A long slow breath brought the scent of him. God. Another inhalation set her desire ablaze. He had her—again. The security wrapped around her like a gentle hug.
She could be anything with him. Even wickedly dirty.
Kinky.
This was heaven wrapped in the conception of hell. Her mother would croak in her designer pastel suit if she could see Brie now. A wicked little laugh bubbled out at the thought. She dug her fingers into his butt cheeks, rode the line of his erection.
She never imagined being naughty could be so fun.
His chuckle vibrated through her back and buzzed on her neck. “You’re loving this.”
“I am.” She didn’t have to lie.
He smoothed his hands up her sides as he straightened. He nudged her shoulder. “Bend over.”
Her chest constricted for the moment it took his command to register. He eased her forward, and she brought her hands around to find the table. The cold surface soaked into her palms and then her chest as she slowly came to rest on its surface. A series of doubts shoved their way into her head in an attempt to dislodge the high she was floating on.
Good girls didn’t do this. Good girls didn’t ask for sex. Good girls didn’t fuck.
Another deep giggle bubbled out as she spread her feet apart before he asked. She lifted her ass up, anticipation roaring through every nerve ending.
Her heart swelled with the freedom. Her pussy pulsed with the need to feel him in her. Thrusting hard. Sure. Owning her.
Her laughter changed to a moan when he yanked her thong down her thighs. Yes. That.
“Please fuck me,” she begged yet again. She didn’t care how it made her sound. Not when the only thing she really wanted was to feel his dick buried in her once again.
Chapter Twelve
The image before Ryan was better than the one he’d conjured of Brie over his desk. Her round ass was lifted in an offering so sweet he almost couldn’t take his eyes off it. Her pussy lips glistened with her wetness, the small clenches begging him to sink into her.
He squatted, sucked in a long breath as he spread her open. The musky heat flooded him with a frantic hunger he barely contained. The heady taste hit him the second he ran his tongue through her folds. Her twitch and squeak became music to his lust.
He dipped back in, his sole purpose to give her pleasure. He wanted to hear every groan and cry, absorb each wiggle and hitch, make her feel as amazing as she was.
His gut churned with suppressed desire. Brie was beyond gorgeous like this. And she was all his to have. To tease and tempt.
He pressed his tongue over the hard nub of her clit. A low moan followed by quick pants floated down to him. The hot well of her vagina encased the tip of his tongue in coaxing invitation. His groan didn’t come close to expressing the fire raging within him. It singed every restraint he lived within and threatened to burn through the walls that bound his thoughts and contained his desires.
She... Brie.
His knees protested the crouch and his thighs started to burn, but he remained focused. Brie writhed, rocking from her toes to the flats of her feet on an erratic pattern he didn’t try to follow. He let her move, absorbing the energy and passion until he couldn’t hold back.
Her cry of protest was a dose of lighter fluid to his control when he stood. The condom wrapper gave way with a harsh rip as he tore it open with his teeth. It took just seconds for him to free his erection from his pants. He left the fly hanging open, shoved his underwear down and rolled on the protection.
Only then did he pause, breaths ragged, blood roaring in his head.
Her back heaved with each breath, the dark lines of her bra accentuating the movement. A pang of regret nipped at his high at the sight of the blindfold. Would her eyes be darkened to a deep blue? Would the lids be heavy with lust?
But this was the only way.
He laid a hand on her back, smoothed it up as he stepped between her legs. The urge to hammer into her was squashed by the larger, bigger craving to enjoy every moment of this encounter.
It was all for her. She deserved to be cherished. Respected.
And he’d show her that.
He circled her opening with his cock head, his focus shifting between that and her profile. Her lip was clamped between her teeth in a hold he longed to soothe. He forced himself to wait for another beat, two, three until she lifted on her toes, whimpered.
Only then did he sink into the sweet heaven that was her.
His growl tore from the rush of satisfaction that raged in his groin and blinded his thoughts. His heart thundered against the barriers he’d placed around it so damn long ago he had no idea how to tear them down.
He sucked in a breath, blinked. He held her hips still as he slid out, mesmerized by the sight of his cock easing from her. This was power and connection as he rarely experienced. Why her? Why now?
His hard drive back into her heat ripped another groan from his chest. He let go then, let it all go. The ties that held him strong. The confines that set his direction. The focus that kept him steady.
He didn’t need them here.
Each hard thrust pushed him deeper, and he fell willingly into the lust and ecstasy. “I can’t get enough,” he mumbled, lost. So damn lost.
“More,” she whimpered, hands braced on the table as she pushed back.
Fuck. He’d never longed to see someone’s face like he did right then. Was the passion etched into her brow? Her pupils dilated?
He shook his head, yet the thoughts wouldn’t go away. The yearning only grew, spread until he wanted to scream at it, tear it out and set it aflame.
He pushed harder, feeding off her moans and cries. The hot clench of her pussy sucked at the strength he employed every damn day to simply keep going. It coiled in his groin, drew his balls tight, holding, holding, holding...
Her walls contracted around him, and he reached down to stroke her clit. Sweat collected on his nape, his muscles strung so tightly he could barely breathe.
The sharp burst of her cry timed with the hard clench around his dick unhinged the last of his restraint. He powered into her, taking everything until there was nothing but her. Brie.
The woman he should forget.
If only he knew how.
* * *
Awareness came back to Brie in small increments, penetrating the fuzzy haze she floated in. The press of his chest on her back. The braced weight holding her secure. The quick cuts of breath warming her neck and catching in her ear.
Words were elusive in the hushed peace that surrounded her. He still had her. She couldn’t dismiss the sense of protectiveness that wrapped her up and kept her safe.
He was the most giving man she’d ever been with. This stranger who’d touched her as none other—both literally and emotionally.
Her breaths started to slow, the table bit into her thighs and an annoying pinch near her breast begged to be eased, yet she refused to move. Once she did, this would be over.
The glide of his dick slowly slipping from her said the seconds were ticking away. She wanted to clench him tight to hold him in, but that would only quicken the end.
She slid her hand over to find his where it rested on the table. The hard bumps of his knuckles guided her until she could lace her fingers between his. He curled his hand into a fist, trapping hers i
n a hold that reached down her arm to wrap around her heart.
The tenderness spread to bathe her in hope and more impossible wants. Ones that couldn’t come true. Not here. Not with him.
He shifted up, pressed a long, tender kiss to her temple, a kiss that shattered the fragile wants struggling for life. His hand tightened around hers to send off a wave of churning anguish.
He slid it away, and she reluctantly let it go.
This was it.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You were stunning.”
Her eyes burned, and her throat ached with the building loss. She couldn’t cry, though. Not here, in front of these men. In front of him.
This was just sex.
Yet it wasn’t.
Not for her.
And that was on her.
He lifted. His hand nudged her bottom as he slid from her, and the emptiness spread through her on a cold wave of reality. The table was suddenly hard and unyielding. The air chilled on her back and exposed ass. The gritty scent of processed wood rushed in to cover the heavier, sultry aroma of sex.
She lay there paralyzed as the soft rustle of material roared in her ears. The harsh rasp of his zipper was the final note on his pending departure.
A light touch on the small of her back nailed her with a flight of rejection. No.
No!
She wasn’t ending it like this. Not as this weak, shattered girl.
She shot up, spinning to catch his arm before he withdrew. Her heart lurched into a frantic pace backed by the determination burning to life. Hope flared once again when he didn’t withdraw. She had no idea if they were alone now and couldn’t find it in her to care.
This man was all that mattered.
He was everything.
And she still had no clue who he was despite feeling as if she’d known him forever. Despite that acute awareness that he knew her, all of her, better than anyone in her real life.
The sharp cut of disappointment pierced her chest before she shoved it away. There was no room for that now. Not here.
Not when there was nothing stopping her from removing the mask—if she was only brave enough. And what would she do with the gained knowledge? A visual wouldn’t change the reality of what this was.
A night of anonymous wild, passionate public sex.
She ran her hand down his arm, halting on his watch. The round surface bit into her palm, the band firm but soft beneath her fingers. A blind hunt with her other hand found the solid plane of his chest. God, how she wished for the heat of his skin instead of the barrier of his shirt.
The hard, rapid beat of his heart pounded its own statement into her palm. One that gave her something to cling to. A belief that he wasn’t completely unaffected. That their connection wasn’t a simple product of her imagination.
He didn’t move as she skimmed her hand up to cup the side of his neck. The smooth flush of his skin along his jaw told her he’d shaven recently. Would his beard be full or sparse? Dark or possibly peppered with gray?
The amount she didn’t know about him overwhelmed the little she did, yet there was no denying this tie. This...pull that tugged on her soul and screamed she knew him.
She lifted up as she urged him down to press her own last kiss on his jaw. She held it, eyes squeezed tight against the rush of emotion clamoring to escape. “Thank you,” she managed to rasp, each word cutting lines in her parched throat. “For everything.”
He remained stiff, the moment lapsing into emptiness as she lowered her heels to the ground. The urge to rip her blindfold off screamed up to defy every rule and agreement she’d signed.
Her stomach swirled with the muck of nerves, fear and want crammed into it. This was stupid. They were consenting adults. But he caught her hand as she dug her fingers beneath the edge of the material that blinded her.
“Don’t.”
That single syllable wiped out her courage along with her fledgling dreams. Questions screamed through her mind, but she bit her tongue to hold them in. She refused to grovel when she’d signed up for just this.
Blind, unknown sex.
Was he married? A politician? A celebrity?
She was just a random fuck. She knew that.
The truth still cut when it shouldn’t.
She dropped her hands, chin lifted as she stood there fully exposed. She wouldn’t cower despite the glaring awareness that she stood there in nothing but her bra—with an audience.
“All right,” she said, resolute. This was the end.
He moved away, her senses tracking him as he went around the table, pausing briefly before he left the room.
The weight hit her the moment he was gone. Her bones threatened to turn to mush when she wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor and disappear. A blanket was eased around her shoulders, causing her to flinch, but she clutched it automatically, grateful for the protection.
“Are you okay to walk?” Jacob asked, concern so tender in his voice. The ice surrounding her melted a little at his kindness.
“Yes,” she assured him, completely unsure if it was true. But her feet moved, and her legs held her up as he ushered her from the room.
One she left with regret and relief.
The intensity was exhilarating in the moment, but was it worth it? Now? When she wished so badly for one more kiss, one more touch from a man she’d never know?
Yes.
Her heart broke and healed in one deep inhalation.
She’d be forever grateful for what he’d released within her. For the freedom he’d given her, even if it was for two short nights.
Because this person, this wild, sexual woman, wasn’t going away. She lived now, and it was up to Brie to figure out how to manage her.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan whipped his head up, coming to a halt a few feet from his car. Tension sprang through his spine to yank his shoulders back.
“What?” he snapped at Trevor, who rested against the door of Ryan’s car.
Trevor’s brow hitched up in an irritating display of starched question. He didn’t shift from his lax position, hands tucked into his pants pockets, one foot lazily crossed over the other.
Ryan spread his stance, arms crossing in preparation for the apparent smackdown he no doubt deserved. Guilt ate at him, and he hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot. Hell, it’d started before he’d stepped from the boardroom. Brie’s display of strength hadn’t concealed her hurt.
“What was that?” Trevor asked, his gaze lifting to the building behind Ryan.
“A scene.” The snarky response was all he had.
“Right.” Trevor straightened, stepping away from the car with a casual stride. Envy reared up to snip at Ryan. He’d tried his entire life to present that exact image without success. “Care to try that again?”
Not a chance in hell. He was done with Brie. There was no way he could repeat tonight.
“What do you want to know?” he countered. Trevor was digging, and Ryan wasn’t in the mood for guessing games. Not when half of him was still focused on the building looming behind him. Was Brie okay? Was Jacob taking care of her properly?
Would they be coming out soon?
The muscles hitched tighter through his shoulders and knotted in his stomach. Chitchat was a skill he’d never acquired and had no interest in taking up, especially now.
Trevor took another step closer, eyes narrowing with that predatory focus he unleashed with precision. Ryan braced but refused to look away.
“That wasn’t just a scene. Not for you.”
Fucking hell. The man could be absolutely infuriating...and deadly accurate. Rage seethed in his chest when it’d do no good. Fighting back only resulted in a harder counterattack. Yet another lesson beaten into him from childhood.
A gust of wind blew in to swee
p over Ryan’s nape and ruffle Trevor’s hair, which was more gray than brown. The nip of chill did little to diminish the clammy sweat that clung to his back.
“It was a scene,” he restated, calm warning in his voice. “I don’t grill you about Danielle.” He let that stand. There was no need to expand.
Trevor’s glare frosted over in less than a blink. The friendly charm switched to stony anger without a muscle moving. “Tread carefully.”
His counter warning was sent with dual meaning Ryan didn’t miss. Trevor strode away then, his pace clipped.
Ryan tracked his departure for a long moment before he jerked around to get into his car. A pile of nervous energy buzzed over his skin as he sped out of the parking lot, headed toward the highway. Every bit of peace he’d found in Brie’s arms had been erased the second he’d pulled out of her.
The moment when he’d fully accepted just how fucked he was.
And now?
There was nothing.
He wouldn’t go back to her even if she did make another appearance in the Boardroom. The risk was too high. He’d lost himself and that wasn’t acceptable.
He’d worked too fucking hard to let this derail everything he’d achieved.
He cruised onto the highway, heading back to the city on autopilot. The line of taillights gave him focus when it seemed he’d lost his own.
His conscience slipped out somewhere between San Mateo and South San Francisco to add another layer to the guilt nibbling away at him. Going back to the Boardroom, knowing she’d be there, had been a deliberate action.
And she had no idea that he was her superior.
He was a fucking lawyer. He understood every consequence his actions could rain down if she ever found out. The Boardroom NDA only stretched so far. He should know. He’d created it years ago and enforced it now.
And all of that was just a distraction from the true source of his conflict.
For the first time in his life, he’d met a woman he couldn’t forget. His ex-wife hadn’t even held that distinction.
They’d both gone into the union with expectations. His to check off the married box and hers to change him into a more feeling person—or so he’d discovered when she’d packed her bags and walked out. An event that hadn’t fazed him and had proven he really was an emotionless bastard. And nothing had changed since then.
