Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  My reasoning isn’t sound in the least. I won’t even insult myself by pretending that it is, but I want it to be. I want it enough to know that I’ll take whatever excuse I can make, no matter how flimsy, and run with it.

  I want Rebel that bad.

  And he knows it. Reading my expression, Rebel’s mouth curves into a triumphant grin as he leans forward, knowing he’s already won. I don’t have the power or the presence of mind to stop him, either. I don’t want to. I want Rebel. I want his mouth on mine, his body moving inside of me. I want all of him.

  When Rebel’s lips touch mine, my whole body shudders and sighs. Muscles that had been bunched up with tension relax, and when my hands reach up to hold his face to mine and force him to kiss me longer, I feel like I’ve finally arrived home.

  It’s a dangerous way to think. Rebel is far from being a safe place to fall. He poses a threat to every part of my life, but I can’t break the connection now even if I wanted to. I need him now like I need my next breath.

  As Rebel begins working my skirt up to my waist, and I reach down to rub his thick, hard cock through his trousers, there is no turning back. In the back of my mind, I know we shouldn’t be doing this. Not because of our history or Florence or the plan or any of that, but because of where we are. We’re in my office. In my very public office. It’s the end of the day, yes, but that doesn’t mean we’re alone. That doesn’t ensure no one will pop in and see us going at it like a couple of teenagers.

  Do I care? Yes. Absolutely, and I should. This is my job. My very new job, and having sex in the office space would be a major no-no. I’m sure, despite knowing one of the owners, that I could still get fired.

  Will that stop me? Yes...in theory.

  The thing is, Rebel make me mindless. Lust and passion race through my body and mind like gasoline, and I don’t know what to do with myself other than to follow his lead. In moments like this, when Rebel is stroking me through my panties with his long, able fingers, I lose myself. I lose all sense of right and wrong, giving total power over to my animal brain.

  I don’t know if Rebel feels the same way that I do, but he certainly is behaving like a man possessed.

  “Fuck me, Rebel,” I plead, fumbling with the zipper on his fly. I want to feel his hard cock in my hand, feel the velvety flesh slide over my palm as I stroke him. But Rebel shakes his head no. I almost don’t believe what he’s telling me, sure I’ve misinterpreted the signal, but I haven’t.

  Peeling my panties down my legs and gently removing them from each bare foot, Rebel glides his hands back up, starting with my ankles and ending at my waist. His thumbs trace the crease where my thighs and hips meet as he peers up at me. “We can’t do that here. Not now. It’s too risky. But no one can see me back here, which means that I can fuck you with my tongue all I want.”

  I swallow tightly, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth on me. Rebel’s always been sparing with oral sex, using pleasure as a tool to dominate over me. If I’m good, he’ll give me everything, taking me to heights I’ve never experienced outside of his bed. If I’m anything less than what he wants me to be, he won’t hesitate to leave me hanging.

  Damn, but I love to hate this man.

  “Rebel, maybe we should get out of here,” I suggest, thinking that it would be better to do this in a bed anyway or the backseat of his car, than to get caught. I doubt that it would reflect well on him, either, especially if he does buy up Jack’s share of the business.

  “And let you change your mind again?” He lifts a dark brow, telling me just what he thinks of my idea. “I don’t think so, pussycat. Now, bring that tight little pussy over here so I can fuck it.”

  Maneuvering us and the chair so that he’s tucked safely under my desktop, Rebel fits his mouth over my clit and gives it a few experimental licks that cause the muscles in my thighs to twitch. My eyes slip closed as he licks around my lips, tonguing my entrance and circling back around, over and over again.

  When I feel one of his fingers rim the outside of my vagina, the excitement ratchets higher, and my lungs expand on a silent shout.

  “Shh, pussycat,” Rebel rumbles from between my thighs. “You don’t want to call attention to us, do you?”

  I shake my head. Whether he can see it or not, I don’t know, but forming words feels impossible to do now. His lips wrap around my clit as he begins to suckle me, and his finger slides deep inside my pussy, curving up to touch on that spot he knows so well.

  My fingers dig into the armrests as he continues to fuck me with his mouth and finger until I’m not sure I can take anymore. The sensations are so intense, I can’t separate anything out. I feel like a giant ball of energy ready to combust.

  Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I’m seriously doubting how I will manage to keep down the scream that’s building in my chest, but that worry is suddenly ripped away when I hear footsteps enter the room.

  I look up to find Darren heading my way. His head is slightly tilted and a crease of worry creates fine lines across his forehead. “I was just getting ready to head out,” he says, hitching his thumb over his shoulder, “but I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out with me and Daniel tonight first. You don’t look like you’re feeling too well, though. Are you sick?”

  Horror shoots through me, and I try to readjust myself in my seat, but Rebel’s arm is wrapped tightly around the back of my knee, holding me in place. Shooting my hand beneath the desk, I push at his forehead, attempting to dislodge him, but his greedy mouth continues eating at me undeterred.

  “Umm...” I feel a second finger enter me, spreading me open and curling inside of me, touching that spot again, and I forget the question.

  “Geez, you’re sweating. You must be running a fever,” Darren comments. “Why are you still here at work? You should be home resting.”

  God, this is just like dinner at the Scotts’ house. The worry in Darren’s voice is clear, and I know if I don’t say something quick, our cover is going to be blown.

  Tunneling my fingers through Rebel’s hair, I form a fist, intending to pull him away so I can have a moment to breathe and get my head around my thoughts, but he buries his face in me and my hips buck involuntarily.

  Shit, I need to get Darren out of here before I orgasm. There’s no way I’ll be able to hide that. “I’m okay. Lunch must not have settled right,” I explain. “I already took something to calm my stomach, though. As soon as it...uhhh...” Rebel’s thumb sneaks up to rub circles around my clit at the same time he pushes his fingers deeper into me. God...damn, it feels so good. “As soon as it starts working, uh...I’ll shut everything down here and head home,” I continue on. Barely.

  “Are you in any condition to go home by yourself?” Darren asks, looking me over with concern. “No offence, but you look terrible.”

  I feel Rebel’s silent laughter roll over me as a huff of hot breath, and I squeeze my knees together around his head until he begins pumping his fingers into me in earnest, creating sloppy sucking sounds. I’m so wet, everything, including the chair I imagine, is completely soaked.

  The sounds are loud enough that if I don’t release him, Darren will hear what’s happening and he’s a smart enough man to put two and two together. Loosening my grip, I see Rebel draw back with a big, shit-eating grin on his face as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell Darren. “Go ahead on home and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t feel right about leaving you alone like this.”

  I sigh, wanting to be rid of him already so I can have a moment of peace and claim my orgasm. “I have...stomach problems,” I say slowly and with a raised brow, hoping he’ll get the picture. It’s beyond difficult to concentrate with Rebel’s fingers still lodged inside me. “It’s nothing that I’m not used to.”

  It takes him a moment to catch on, and then Darren’s concern shifts to pity. “You should have said something before. What is it, IBS? Cr
ohn’s? Wait. That’s you’re business, not mine,” he rushes on, waving his hand through the air. “Whatever it is, from now on, we’re staying far away from greasy food.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s probably best.” I seriously loved that fried chicken, though. I’m going to mourn that chicken. Now, I’ll have to make special trips and eat it in secret if I ever want to taste heaven again.

  “Okay, sweets. I guess I’m heading out then,” he says while backing toward the door. “I hope you feel better soon. Call me if you need anything.”

  I give him a salute and a soft smile, glad when he’s finally gone. “You’re such a dick,” I tell Rebel, grinning down at him and meaning every word.

  “Ah, but you love it. And you love my dick, too.”

  Don’t I know it. Pushing my palms against the edge of the desk, I roll the chair back to give him more room to work. “Shut up and get back to work, slacker. I want you to make me come.” Lifting my legs up, I hitch them over his shoulders, spreading myself completely open to him.

  Kneeling before me, Rebel’s eyes drift down between my legs, and he licks his lips like he’s hungry and ready for a fest. Instead, I hear metal scrapping against metal as he pulls down his zipper and releases his hard cock. My gaze immediately falls to it, eager to see and feel and touch and taste. Oh yeah, it’s definitely been too long.

  “Damn, you’re fucking beautiful like this. I can make this quick,” he promises. Grabbing the edge of the chair, he draws me closer. On his knees, Rebel is still tall enough that, with my ass hanging off the edge of the seat, his cock is right where it needs to be. “You’d better hold on,” he warns me. “I’m going to fuck this pussy hard and fast. If you scream, I’m going fuck you even harder, and then anyone left in the building is going to come running, and they’re going to see how beautifully you come when I’m buried inside you.”

  Oh...God. I’m about to come from his words alone. With a sly smile, I tell him, “Just try not to stain your pants this time, big guy.”

  With that, Rebel rams home, burying himself so deep that it rips a scream from me before I have a chance to swallow it down. Fear shoots down my spine and my gaze darts toward the door, expecting to see someone come barreling through it at any moment, but as Rebel begins driving all eight inches of his rock hard length into me, using the chair as leverage, I just don’t care anymore.

  Let them find us. Let them see what this man does to me. How he unravels me. Just the thought of someone standing there, witnessing us fucking, makes my pussy clench. Rebel grunts as my inner muscles clamp down on him like a vise, his gaze holding mine with a mischievous spark that tells me that was his goal the whole time, and then he picks up the pace.

  I lose myself in the rhythm, in the furious pounding he’s giving me, and when the orgasm finally has me in its grips, I let go. Rebel’s hand clamps down over my mouth to muffle my screams, and it only excites me more. I feel him expand inside me and force my eyes open so I can watch that moment when his eyes squeeze shut, and the tendons in his neck stand out as he releases himself inside of me.

  The bad thing about office sex is that there is no luxury of recovery time. As soon as Rebel’s finished, he pulls out of me and stands up, causing my feet to drop gracelessly back to the floor. It takes me a moment to recover before I begin putting my clothes back into place.

  Rebel is dead silent as he straightens himself out and makes sure everything is back where it should be, and then he gives me a smile that’s chilling.

  “I have some work to finish up. I’ll tell Gerardo to expect you downstairs in five minutes.” Then giving me his back, he walks out the door.

  Nine

  Gerardo, Rebel’s personal driver, dropped me off at home last night and was waiting for me when I left my apartment this morning. He drove me to work under Rebel’s instruction, leaving me conflicted.

  I don’t want to be a kept woman. Not at all. Even though I appreciate the gesture and the knowledge that I’m in Rebel’s thoughts makes the little girl inside of me giddy, I can’t help feeling a little dirty at the same time. Knowing that he and Florence are together, and considering my dancing background and our history, I feel more like a mistress than a girlfriend.

  Of course, this could just be a result of my own dysfunction. It’s very possible that Rebel’s actions were done in kindness. I’m so confused.

  Today is a repeat of yesterday. So far, I’ve worked straight through the morning with little interruption. Darren, of course, was on my heels as soon as I walked off the elevator checking to make sure that I was okay. I feel a little shitty knowing that I lied to him like that, but what else was I supposed to do? I could have waved my hand at my crotch and told him I was busy screwing around with the CEO of the company, but something tells me that wouldn’t have gone over well.

  I’m just glad that Darren didn’t ask me about the single, hot-pink Stargazer lily that appeared on my desk shortly before lunch. I was away from my desk for only a few minutes to use the restroom, and when I returned, it was just lying there. I don’t know who delivered it, and I don’t dare ask, but a little voice in the back of my head tells me it has to be Rebel’s handiwork.

  After placing the flower in a pop can filled with water, I get back to work, only to be interrupted shortly before noon when a call comes through to Jenna, and she informs us that we’re all expected on the seventh floor for an important, impromptu meeting.

  My heart is racing as we ride the elevator up. Looking around at the other three, I check for any signs that they’re nervous, but they seem perfectly at ease. Why do situations like this always make me feel like I’m a little kid again heading to the principal’s office? Logically, I know I’ve done nothing wrong to warrant the ill feelings, so I guess I’m just one of the lucky people in the world to be born with a guilty conscience.

  When we arrive on the seventh floor, I take a quick look around, noting that almost everything is exactly the same up here as it is on my floor. Only the furnishings here are a lot nicer. The floors have a classier, neutral beige carpet, and front and center is a large, marque-style, curved reception desk with a Plexiglas inlay across the front. Even the ferns look happier.

  Huh.

  We’re instructed to follow the buxom brunette behind the desk down a short hallway to a room labeled “Conference Room 1” on a nice, shiny gold plaque. When she opens the door, she does it with a smile, and we each enter the room single file.

  I take in my environment in a single sweep. There are no windows here, only mat gray walls. There’s a credenza on the wall to my right with a pitcher of water and several glasses, and there’s what looks like a pull-down projector screen mounted above it.

  The table that takes up the middle of the room is massive, made of blonde wood topped with two fanciful baskets wrapped in white organza, and has several men and women already seated around it. As soon as I see the redhead at the head of the table rock back in her chair, the reason for my nerves suddenly becomes clear.

  And some people claim they don’t believe in a sixth sense? I’m calling bullshit right here and now. This is proof that a person, average or not, can sense the presence of evil.

  “Ah, here’s our winning team now,” Florence says with a toothy smile. However, when she sees me enter the room, dead last, that look dims to a mere flicker filled with resentment and ill will. “And the new girl,” she adds, her voice laced with disdain.

  “Come on in, and have a seat.”

  My gaze leaps away, tracking the sound of that voice. It lands at the source, and good Lord, I think there’s been enough excitement in the last two minutes to send me into cardiac arrest.

  Rebel’s blackened gaze smiles at each of us as we select our seats at the table, growing even more intense when we both realize something: the only chair left is the one directly to his right. Fucking bastards. My coworkers, however unwittingly, have placed me right next to the man I should be staying a million miles away from. I’d wonder if they did it on purpo
se if I thought they knew anything about the two of us being together.

  But they don’t, and I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars anyway that I didn’t get stuck sitting next to the devil in the blue dress. No joke. Florence is wearing a very sleek, very professional blue-wrap dress that falls beautifully over her fit body. Can I possibly hate her any more than I already do? Apparently, yes.

  “First order of business,” Rebel states, calling everyone’s attention to his end of the table. “We have a new client coming on board. You may be familiar with her products, especially the women at this table,” he says, looking at me and Jenna specifically.

  “She has made a small fortune developing specialty bath products, including hypoallergenic soaps, lotions, washes, shampoos and conditioners, et cetera, et cetera, and she wants us to help build her company up to its full potential.”

  Rebel’s command of the room makes me completely forget about Florence and my hatred for her. I am absorbed in his speech, already on board for this project and thinking of all the possible avenues we can go down, the designs I can come up with, and how I can be an asset to him and this company.

  “We have a very talented department in the four of you, and we know that you put all of yourselves into each and every project you’re given, but I’m about to ask even more of you. The reason you’ve been asked here today is because we’re putting together a two-person team that can be fully dedicated to this project. Whatever you’re working on now will be handed off to the other two to finish. This is a team effort, I can’t stress that enough.” Rebel looks each of us in the eye, making sure that we understand the weight of his words.

  “Who here can do this for us?”

  I take a second to think about the website I’m building and the time I’ve already put into it. I hate the idea of turning it over to someone else who will put their own creative stamp on it, making it no longer mine, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to pass this opportunity up.