by Litte, Jane
And then he began to stroke her back, gently at first, and then gradually with more pressure. Marnie could only surrender to his ministrations as he began to knead the flesh surrounding her spine with his fingers, pressing into the muscle with his thumbs while the rest of his hands massaged the sides of her torso. She gasped as he grazed the underside of her breasts. She held her breath, anticipating his touch on the aching mounds, but it never came. Instead his hands descended along her spine again, kneading and stroking, until he reached where the robe pooled around her waist.
“Marnie,” he breathed against the nape of her neck.
She shivered as he captured her earlobe between his teeth and softly bit down. He was hovering over her now, his arms braced on the seat. She arched against him, craving to feel his body against hers. He was so warm and he felt so good. “Just do it, Michael. I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” His voice sounded harsh and strained.
“Yes,” she whispered, undulating her hips against the apex of his thighs. She could feel his erection against the small of back, could feel it throbbing with need. For her.
The buzzing noise of the tattoo gun broke through the stillness of the room. Marnie pressed herself against the back cushion, her hardened nipples grazing the leather, which had been warmed by her body heat. It was the anticipation, really, the expectation of pain. Her body’s involuntary response was to brace for the pain, to tense up. She should not be fighting against it. If she surrendered to it, if she embraced it like Michael said, if she just gave in, she could become something else . . . a canvas for Michael’s art. She could be beautiful, just like the women in those portraits. For the moment, that was better than anything she could think of. And it was enough.
“That’s it, Marnie, keep breathing just like that.”
He touched the tip of the tattoo gun to her skin and Marnie hissed. The pain was not . . . was she thought it would be. It felt incomplete. It was not a deep, penetrating, stabbing pain. It was more like a searing, scratching, digging pain. Like a sharp fingernail worrying over an itch, over and over, only about a thousand times more intense. And it was hot. Not sexy-hot, but temperature-hot. And it didn’t stop. She did not realize she was biting down on her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth.
“Marnie, you’re tensing up again. Breathe, sweetheart, breathe.”
He laid one palm against the middle of her back and pressed her harder into the cushion, restricting any hope of movement of Marnie’s part, as his other hand continued to move over her skin with the tattoo gun. She forced herself to concentrate on the rhythm of her own breathing: inhale three beats, exhale two beats. She breathed in and out through her nose, filling up her lungs with air until her chest could expand no more, then slowly releasing it, imagining her lungs flattening like pancakes as she did so. After a while, the incessant buzzing noise of the tattoo gun began to fade into the background until all she could hear was her own breathing and the heavy, steady throbbing of her own jugular.
And then it began: a tingling sensation at the base of her skull, spreading slowly but steadily all over her skull. Goose bumps sprouted all over her body and beads of sweat formed on her forehead and above her upper lip. She could feel herself melting deeper into the cushion, her bones liquefying and her flesh humming with the sensation so pleasurable it was painful . . . so painful it was pleasurable? She was drunk and floating and boneless. And God, she needed to touch him. She reached down and grasped Michael’s knee, her fingers digging deep, closing and opening over his kneecap. She caressed all of him that was within reach, which was a couple of above his knee and halfway down his calf. She stroked and groped and squeezed.
The buzzing stopped.
“Marnie,” he groaned as though he himself were in pain. “You have to stop that, baby. Just a little bit more. We’re almost done here.” He leaned over her, bent his head, and sucked her flesh into his mouth, laving the area with his tongue. “There’s time enough for that soon.”
Marnie dropped her hand to her side and Michael returned to his seat. The buzzing started again and it didn’t take long for Marnie to return to her breathing. She licked her lips as she felt Michael’s restraining hand slide down her spine, stroke her hip, and follow the line of her body all the way down to her bare thigh. With his calloused palm, he caressed her, sliding it up to the area where her thigh met her pelvis under the robe. And remained there. Maddeningly still. But Marnie could not move, could not adjust her body to accommodate his questing fingers, not if she wanted a perfect tattoo. A canvas did not squirm and wriggle. She reached for his hand and moved it to her knee. And held it there.
“All right,” he said after what seemed like an eternity. “All done.”
Marnie couldn’t believe it. She had survived. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and Michael was there smiling at her as he applied the bandage to her shoulder. Their eyes met. She winked at him. An unfamiliar sound escaped her lips. A laugh. She hadn’t laughed in months. She felt giddy and drunk with joy. She felt . . . fabulous. She was still giggling as Michael guided her out of the dentist chair and laughed even harder when she realized she could not stand on her own. Her legs had turned to jelly. She would have slid to the ground if Michael hadn’t picked her up and swung her into his arms.
“Where are we going?” she asked airily, looping her arms around his neck.
“Not far.”
He set her down on the counter, spread the robe open, and appraised her body with a knowing smile. Chuckling, he placed his hands on her thighs and stepped in between them. “You are amazing.”
“I know,” Marnie said. “I’m ready for my prize.”
She helped him unbutton and unzip his pants with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning, pushing them to the floor with her foot. Cupping his face between her hands, she slid her mouth over his and kissed him until they were both breathless.
“Congratulations, Marnie.” Then he gripped her hips and thrust deep into her.
DL Galace enjoys long-distance running and yoga, considers herself a voracious reader, and indulges herself once in a while with a huge, overflowing serving of Carne Asada Fries from Sombrero’s and a six-pack of Tsingtao. She loves watching reruns of The X-Files whenever she can find it and lives in hope that a super-good X-Files feature film will be released someday when Mulder and Scully can finally get married outside of fanfic. She lives in San Diego, CA. Visit her blog at www.dionnegalace.com/wordpress.
JUST SAY YES
HELENKAY DIMON
One
Her back slammed against the door. Firm hands slid up to cradle her head as his mouth crossed over hers. Again and again, the slant of his lips and sweep of his tongue burned through her.
She craved this. Day after day, sitting in boring conference rooms and never-ending staff meetings, watching him explain and negotiate, she wanted him.
At home, or in any safe place where she could close her eyes and steal a moment, she imagined the broad slope of his shoulders and the pleasures promised by those lean fingers. At the office she lived for the peppery ginger scent that tickled her senses during those dangerous times when she got close enough to smell him.
Colin Banks. Brown hair bordering on black, soft gray eyes, and a voice so deep it vibrated down to her toes with every syllable. He was completely off-limits. And he was seconds away from being inside her.
“God, yes.” He whispered his plea against her lips when her fingers found the flat stomach under his shirt.
Heavy breathing mixed with the rustle of clothing and shuffling of feet. One hand reached down to catch her thigh and pull it high on his hip. The seductive dance inched her slim skirt straight into danger territory.
Ignoring common sense and every rule she’d ever set for her life, she dove in. She grabbed for his suit jacket. Clawing and pushing, she worked the material down his arms, letting him leave her only long enough to shrug it to the carpet.
Then he was back. Warm air blew across her bare
skin the second before his mouth closed over the vein thumping hard at the base of her neck.
The pressure of his lips, the sucking and coaxing, sent a rush of blood to her head. She slid her fingers beneath the collar of his dress shirt and lifted his face. No more than a shimmer of air passed between them before her mouth found his again, making her wonder how she went eight months without kissing him long and deep.
The heat and unexpected growl vibrating in his throat fed the need growing inside her. Hands moved over her silk shirt, cupping her breasts before shifting to her hips. As he bunched her skirt at her waist, his leg eased between hers.
A rush of cool air hit her exposed thighs. Fingertips skimmed the lacy tops of her stockings before brushing against the damp crotch of her panties. Back and forth he rubbed until her insides tingled and ached.
Her head fell back against the door as he tugged the tiny scrap of material down her legs to pool on top of her high heels. She kicked them off.
“Colin . . . now.”
He mumbled under his breath, blocking out the steady hum of the overhead lights and the slight buzz of excitement filling her brain. The faint sounds of the off-duty office faded into a beating sensation of heat and desire.
The quiet darkness shattered as he dipped a finger deep inside her. “You’re soaking wet.”
The words rumbled against her ear as her fingers eased the belt from his pants. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
“Suit pocket.” Before she could question the convenience, he explained. “Been planning for weeks.”
A flash of reason seared across her brain. “Colin?”
“Later.” He whispered the word against her lips.
“Maybe we should—”
“No more talk.” His palms cupped her ass, lifting both her legs to wrap around his lean waist.
Her body was open to him. Vulnerable and ready. Balancing her between the panel at her back and his body at the front, he shifted one hand and pressed two fingers deep inside before sliding out then plunging them back in again.
He repeated the sensual massage until her hips flexed in time with his hand. Tension crackled across her nerve endings, snapping her muscles tight and forcing her ankles in a clench against his back. She wanted to squirm and shift until the grinding inside her subsided, but it kept growing and pulsing.
The screech of his zipper broke through the room. She wanted to reach down and help him with the condom, but her mind kept misfiring and her control slipped out of her grasp.
When she heard the package tear and felt the tip of his cock press against her, her palms smacked against the door for leverage. Back and forth he rubbed, making her wetter with each deepening stroke.
Before she could drag a gulp of air through her dry throat he was inside her. One long, steady push and he filled her. With a reverent whisper of her name, part groan and part plea, he moved. In and out, faster with each successive stroke, the long-suppressed need for him roared to life.
Heat pounded her. The act of possession and being possessed thrilled her. When he touched his finger against her clit, the simple pressure broke the coiling inside her. Her body bucked and her hips slammed against his. Sharp breaths rushed out of her in pants as she came.
When his shoulders trembled and palms clasped her flesh, she knew the orgasm had overtaken him. His heartbeat thundered against her as his body pulled tight. With a rough grunt, his shoulders grew stiff one last time then with a whoosh of air relaxed. He balanced his full weight against her as his body shook from the force of his release.
She tried to absorb his heat, to drag his body even closer against hers as the harsh breaths pumped through his chest. In the quiet minutes after, she ran her hands through his soft hair and over the firm muscles even his shirt couldn’t hide, enjoying the chance to touch him without any repercussions.
Exhausted, both her resistance and bones melted, she cuddled him as his body returned from flaming to normal. She doubted she could stand or even think.
He lifted his head, those gray eyes sparkling with mischief. “Nice.”
“Very.” She waited for embarrassment and regret to hit her but they never did. Still, she had to be reasonable. Smart. At the very least, engage in a little self-protection. “We should—”
“Try the desk next.”
“What?”
His lips turned up in a smile, one that promised hours of mind-numbing sex. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”
“I don’t even have the brain cells to spell my name.”
He trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Give me a few minutes and you won’t even know it.”
Two
THREE DAYS LATER . . .
“Even with the delay we shouldn’t have any trouble meeting the deadline.”
Colin tried to concentrate on her verbal replay of the conference call but his mind refused to stay focused on work. He couldn’t take one more second of her practiced detachment. “You’re actually going to sit there and pretend it never happened.”
Her explanation stopped in mid-sentence as her shoulders froze. Even her pen skidded to a stop on the yellow legal pad in front of her. “Excuse me?”
It was just after two on a Friday. The lights were on. They were dressed in matching blue suits. The shades were up. The floor of the real estate development company buzzed with activity. And Allie Garner acted as if he hadn’t stripped her naked and come inside her three times earlier that week in that very room.
“You. Me. This office.” He sat across the desk from her and thought about being more descriptive. He would have if he’d bothered to lock the door.
Anyone could walk in. There were twenty cubicles lined up outside the corner office. The fact the door was closed would cause enough of a buzz. Almost as much as Allie’s early morning snap over a malfunctioning copier.
She usually stayed cool under pressure. Having struggled her way up from secretary to vice president, she appreciated how hard the staff worked. It was one of the things he admired about her. She didn’t blow up or pull rank. Until today.
She pressed her palms into the arms of her big leather desk chair. “Now isn’t the time to discuss—”
“Allie.”
“I’m trying to tell you—”
Screw appropriate. “I took you up against the door. Again on the carpet.”
“That’s enough. I am your boss.” As if being her assistant wasn’t enough of a clue, she adjusted the nameplate on the edge of her desk.
He shoved the engraved plate to the side and balanced his elbows on the now-open space. Not the most respectful move but this discussion didn’t have anything to do with the job or her position of power. “I’m not talking about work and you know it.”
“This topic is off-limits.”
“I’m done ignoring it.”
She exhaled a ragged breath. “Tuesday was a mistake.”
“Not by my calculation.”
“I was out of line.”
Which he took as code for I didn’t follow the rules. He knew all about the corporate policy prohibiting management from dating within the company. Allie actually made him email the section of the employee handbook to the entire staff the day before.
She missed the simple fact he was a grown man. If he wanted a woman, he went for it. And he wanted Allie. Had from the day he met her. He saw those long legs under her trim black skirt and almost blew his interview. Then he got to know her and he was really a goner. Wavy brown hair, eyes that hovered that sexy line between green and blue, and a body that crushed his control to dust. They’d had eight months of foreplay and one night of sex. He vowed to adjust that imbalance.
He had to get around her paralyzing worries first. “You think I’m going to report you or get you fired.”
“I take full responsibility for what happened.” She stared at the desk, at her computer monitor—everywhere but at him.
“I remember being a pretty active participant.”
&
nbsp; “I was in charge.”
“No, you weren’t.” If she were the one in charge of their attraction, he’d still be dreaming about what she looked like naked instead of recalling the image from memory.
She was looking at him now. The flat-lipped frown might scare someone else. Not him. He knew the passionate woman underneath the big work title. She’d always been a fair boss but panic gripped her now. Her body trembled with it.
“We work as a team, with you negotiating the contracts I secure, but I’m still your boss.”
“You said that already.”
She cleared her throat. “It was unfair of me put you in that position.”
She wouldn’t stop fighting him. Energy bubbled right under the surface. He could sense it and was desperate to harness it, but she stifled her needs in favor of long hours at her desk. He’d hoped their after-hours playtime would help her appreciate the sexy woman he saw, but that wasn’t happening.
If he backed off now, she’d retreat just like she did every time he tried to knock down that professional barrier she erected between them. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me in meetings? How I sometimes catch you glancing at me during presentations instead of listening to the speakers?”
The last of the rosy pink leeched from her face as she reached for the phone. “I should call Human Resources.”
He folded his hand over hers before she could hit a button. “Since you’re about to completely piss me off, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m not going to file a complaint.”
“You have every right.”
“You’re still not hearing me. I pushed you against that door and tore off your panties because I wanted to do it. No one forced me.”
She frowned. “What do you expect me to say?”
