by Dark Angel
I don’t complain. Even though we’ve always had an easy vibe at work, I feel like these mornings have given me a chance to really get to know him outside of the office. Because even though we’re supposed to be using the time to get ahead of the workday, most of our mornings are spent discussing the Knicks or what happened on our favorite shows the night before. Working for him is a dream anyway, but these mornings? Best part of my day.
We squeeze onto the platform and talk about our favorite draft picks. When the train rushes by, screeching to a stop, we push forward, Linc guiding me on board with a hand on my elbow. Standing room only. Great. My favorite.
Suddenly, raised voices catch my attention as the train lurches forward, and I crane my neck to see what’s going on. Some arrogant businessman is arguing with a woman, and she’s shouting insults and waving a flyer in his face.
I arch my brow at Linc and shrug. Just another day in the city. When we reach the next stop, the same man pushes through angrily, obviously in a hurry to get off the train. He spins to hurl one last remark to the woman, and when he does, his elbow hits my coffee cup, sending milky brown coffee flying from my hand to land smack dab in the center of Linc’s chest.
The shock on his face would almost be comical if it weren’t for the huge stain spreading across what I’m sure is a ridiculously overpriced dress shirt.
“Fuck,” he grits out, glaring at the man. But he’s already off the train.
“Here,” I say, shoving my tablet into his hands. “I’ve got this.”
I dig in my bag for a minute and proudly produce stain-removing wipes, holding them up in front of him as if it’s a winning lottery ticket.
Linc chuckles and shakes his head. “What would I do without you? You’re like a Boy Scout or something.”
“You’d probably be avoiding the train and enjoying the luxury of your fancy chauffeured car. That’s what.” I smile and pull a wipe from the package, hurriedly dabbing at the stain. It’s really not that bad. With any luck, it won’t even be noticeable.
I place my palm flat on his chest, pulling the shirt taut so I can scrub the fabric.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we are. Inches apart, really. I take a deep breath, but that only makes it worse because now I have a lungful of his spicy, musky scent. Shit. My hand shakes as I continue to work on the stain. His gaze bores into me. I can feel it.
“What?” I say, not looking up, my voice nearly as shaky as my hand, and I want to curse whoever that asshole was. There is no way Linc isn’t going to notice the effect he’s having on me right now. The way my fingers are twitching with the urge to dig into his shirt and pull him even closer so I can rub my body all over his.
“I think you’ve got it,” he says. He’s right. I’m still furiously scrubbing a stain that’s no longer there. He drops a casual kiss on my hair, causing me to freeze. “Thanks, Jules. Saving the day yet again.”
I swallow, schooling my face before I look up at him with a too-bright smile. “That’s my job.”
His eyes flicker with something I don’t quite recognize, a sexy smile curving lips that I really want to lick, and I tell myself it’s nothing. The hand that’s back on my lower back, resting oh-so-lightly there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fucking kiss he just dropped like that’s just what we did.
Nothing. It’s nothing. So, why does it feel like something?
Linc
Jules is so fucking cute. I mean, who else would have a giant stack of stain removing wipes in her purse? She’s always coming to my rescue one way or another. I lucked out when she fell into my lap.
Well, not literally into my lap. Though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had more than one fantasy of something along those lines. A late night at the office, her leaning over me as we work, her just happening to trip and fall and land right on my dick. Okay, more than one fantasy. More like I have a whole spank bank of them.
A smile pulls at my lips as I rest my hand on her back, fighting the impulse to yank her to me.
“Are you laughing at me again?” Jules says. “There is nothing wrong with being prepared. Saved your ass today, didn’t I?”
“That you did, Jules. That you did.” I grin in earnest now, her sassy attitude making me forget all about the fact that I was irritated by the coffee.
She smiles back, shaking her head. “You’re so crazy.”
Yeah, crazy about you.
I want to tell her so badly. How much I fucking want her. How she drives me absolutely mad with need and want and desire.
But I don’t. For the same reason I’ve kept this little secret to myself for the past two years. She’s fucking amazing. And I’d be an asshole to mess up what a good thing we have going. As her boss, as her friend. All of it.
That doesn’t mean I don’t totally check out her ass as she bends over to pick up the now-empty coffee cup. Or that when the train takes a curve, I happen to lean into a little more than necessary just so I can get a whiff of that sweet strawberry scent that wafts off her mahogany hair.
I can’t even smell strawberries anymore without getting a boner. Seriously. That’s what this girl does to me.
“So, Wes has seriously found a girl?” she asks, her nose wrinkling up in disbelief.
I sigh. Back to my brother. “Yeah. Seems like it. Why? You jealous?”
And how ridiculous am I that I’m actually worried she might be?
She snorts. “Please. But I’m seriously terrified that we’re going to need to upgrade the security system to keep the ladies away from you.”
The train slows, and we move toward the door. I take her elbow in my hand again, the feel of her soft skin making my body light up in awareness.
“Sounds like you just might be jealous after all, Jules, baby,” I tease. Jules baby? What the fuck? Where did that come from? But I go with it.
She elbows me in the ribs as we move off the train and head toward the stairs. “Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you just love that?”
Her tone is light, full of jest, but the thought that she might be jealous of other women wanting my attention gives me pause. She’s never given me any indication that she thinks of me as anything other than a friend. I mean, hell, we discuss sports on a daily basis. Like she’s one of the guys.
I shamelessly take in her ass as she climbs the stairs in front of me. Okay, definitely not one of the guys.
I’m lost in my thoughts—and fantasies. Her naked on my desk, her naked on her desk, her naked on the boardroom table—and I think about it all the way to the office. The morning flies by in a rush of meetings, even the one with my brother going well. And it’s official. He’s dating a girl named Celine. When lunchtime finally rolls around, I’m ready for the break.
Jules knocks on my office, holding up a bag from my favorite gourmet deli. “Hungry?”
“Starving. You’re an angel,” I say, happy that it’s now one of the highlights of my day. We fell into the habit of eating lunch together early on, and now it’s a ritual.
I follow her to the boardroom, my tabletop fantasy high in my mind as she leans forward to set the food out. When she turns around abruptly, I jerk my eyes up to her face, but I’m pretty sure it was too late.
“Lincoln Brightman, were you just checking out my ass?” She places a hand on her hip, her eyebrows flying up.
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I laugh, lifting my hands in the air. “Busted.”
Incredulous laughter rings from her mouth, sucking me in a little further. “You’re no better than your brother.”
“Now that’s just playing dirty, Jules.” I smirk and take a few slow steps toward her. “But I guarantee I am way, way better than my brother.”
I don’t know what made me say it. Why I didn’t shove those words right back where they came from. But now they’re out there, hanging in the air between us. She blinks rapidly, as if she’s not sure she heard me right. Or if she did, that she might be imagining the innuendo.
Nope. It’s totally there.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” she manages, but I don’t miss the way her eyes dart down, running over my body. I also don’t miss the telltale dart of her tongue across her lips as her eyes reach my cock.
Holy fuck.
What?
I can’t even process what’s happening. Because there is no denying there’s some kind of sexual tension gathering in the room, sweeping us up in it. It’s like every fantasy I’ve had come to life. She’s seriously looking at me like she wants me. Something I have never seen on her face before.
And fuck me, because even though I know it’s a terrible idea—that I’m her boss and there’s nothing that terrifies me more that running her off—I’m walking toward her, stalking, really, with nothing but dirty, wicked intentions.
Jules
Oh god. Linc has a glint in his eye. That same one I thought I saw this morning on the train. I didn’t recognize it then, but there’s no denying now what it is. Pure, unadulterated lust. As if he wants to spread me across the table like I’m what he wants to eat for lunch.
I gasp, my thighs quivering at the mere thought of him between my legs.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low, “you should just take my word for it, Jules. That would be the smart thing to do.”
My throat feels tight, and I struggle to swallow against the nerves that are rising up.
Another step closer.
“You’re a smart woman,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “You know what you need to do.”
I’m so confused. It’s like he’s warning me off. Telling me that this—whatever this is—is a bad idea. That it would be smart to not go there. But at the same time, he’s coming ever closer, his eyes dark with desire. For me.
And there is no way in hell I can walk away from that.
He stops inches from me, his breath coming nearly as fast and sharp as mine.
“Linc,” I whisper, my eyes wide.
He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Brushing his knuckles across my jaw.
I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut, my body both relaxing into his touch and sparking with dangerous, delicious awareness.
“Fuck, Jules,” he bites out, cupping my cheek in his palm, his thumb tracing my lips.
I suck in a sharp breath, and suddenly my heart is hammering in my chest. Desire flooding my body. Blood rushing through my veins in a race to my center.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, though he doesn’t step away or let go of me.
My eyes open, searching his. “It’s a terrible idea,” I manage to say.
“The worst,” he agrees.
“Then why does it sound so good?”
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Because even though it’s bad, it would be so, so good.”
I practically whimper, my knees feeling wobbly.
Linc runs a finger down my chest, skimming over my breasts to my side, where he runs his hand around to my back, tracing lazy circles as he stares into my face. Watching. Measuring. Then he drops his hand lower, hovering lightly over my hips as he leans into me, pressing himself against me.
I can’t help it. I moan at the hard pressure of his cock straining against my belly. “Linc, what are we doing?”
“I don’t know. I just know I can’t think past the need to taste you right now.”
I melt. My body pliant as he tangles his other hand in my hair and angles my head up toward his. His mouth is only a breath away. We’re sharing the same air.
And I can’t fight it. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. Now that it’s happening there’s no resisting. Even though it will surely end badly.
It doesn’t matter, though. I tip my head up higher, my eyes clear, showing him that I want this too.
I can feel the hesitation. The tension winding him tight as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, indecision creeping into his eyes.
We stay suspending in the moment for what feels like eternity.
Then he mutters, “Fuck it,” and lowers his lips to mine.
A soft, testing brush. So light it’s like a flutter. Then another, firmer, surer.
My lips part on a sigh, so unbelievably content and so desperately needy at the same time, and he dips in, his tongue barely teasing mine.
Linc pulls back, his eyes searching. Waiting for me to tell him no. But if that’s what he’s waiting for, he’s going to be waiting forever. Because there is no way I’ll tell him to stop.
He seems to see this, because the next thing I know, he’s kissing me with a desperation that matches my own. As if he’s wanted this as long as I have. I don’t know how that’s possible, but that’s how it feels.
“Jules,” he groans against my mouth. “So sweet. Need more of you.”
Yes.
He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, gently at first, then tugging on it with a slow pull that’s echoed in my body all the way down to my pussy. A warm, delicious pull that has me clinging to him.
Never breaking the kiss, he runs the hand that’s digging into my hip down further until his fingers graze the hem of my skirt. My breath catches as he pulls it up, inch by tortuously slow inch. His fingertips graze my thigh as he climbs higher, and electricity rockets through my body as if I’ve been struck by lightning.
I shudder against him, and he holds me closer, wrapping me up in himself. So close I don’t ever want to be anywhere but here.
He leans me back against the conference table, and my fingers dig into the wood for support, afraid I’ll fall over from the dizziness that sweeps over me when he brushes his fingers across the damp lace of my panties.
“Oh god.”
Linc pulls back just enough to study my face, a brow lifted in questions. I nod quickly, urging him to go on.
My teeth clamp down on my lip as he pushes the scrap of fabric aside and runs his fingers through my folds. My whole body quakes.
“Feel good, Jules, baby?” His eyes are soft, watching as he whispers the sweet endearment I tried to ignore earlier.
“So good, Linc.”
Mischief flashes in his eyes, in his quick smirk. “Told you it would be so bad it was good.”
My breath comes in pants as his fingers work higher, teasing my clit, edging me closer to pure bliss.
“Want to watch you cum,” he says, voice gritty.
“Please.” It comes out like my life depends on it, and when he slides his fingers into my wet heat, my head falls back from the sheer ecstasy of having him inside me.
Oh my god. Linc has his fingers inside me. It’s better than I imagined. And I’ve imagined it plenty.
“Look at me,” he says. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see your eyes when you cum.”
In what has to be the most intensely erotic moment of my life, I simply stare into his eyes while his fingers plunge into my depths over and over. I’m so close. All it takes is the flick of his thumb over my clit and I’m hurtling into an abyss of pleasure. My hips surge forward, and he drives deeper, his magic fingers never stopping as I cum hard. My walls clamp and clench, drenching his hand as I pulse around him.
The entire time he watches my face, raw hunger all over his.
When I drift down from the clouds he sent me soaring to, I slump down, my body heavy and limp, and he catches me in his arms, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Jules.”
His words take me by surprise, but then he’s straightening my clothes, running his hand through my hair. With another quick kiss, he stands up and gives me a cocky smirk that is nothing but sexy.
“Best lunch break ever.”
I shake my head to clear it, trying to process what’s happening. I do the only thing I can think of. I sit down and have lunch with my boss, just like I do every day of the week.
Now what?
Linc
Best. Week. Ever.
It’s
like every single one of my fantasies about Jules now has a chance to come true. We haven’t discussed what this is, and I don’t really want to yet. I just want to enjoy it.
Nothing has been awkward yet, which is a huge relief. I nearly regretted doing what I did. After two years of fighting it, I thought I’d wrecked the good thing I had going in a moment of weakness. But apparently, I haven’t been alone in this thing. She wants me as much as I want her. The only thing I regret now is that it took me so damn long to do something.
The entire week has been stolen kisses and naughty deeds in between clients. But tonight? Tonight she’s coming to my place. The Knicks are playing, and we’re ordering pizza and beer. Yeah, my girl is pretty perfect. Just like one of the guys. Except she is all woman and I’m hoping I get to bury myself in her before the night is over.
The doorbell rings, and I let her in. She looks so fucking sexy in her cutoff shorts and tight little Knicks t-shirt thats stretched across her tits. I only ever see her in work clothes, and seeing her like this does something to me. I want to see more of her like this. Outside of work. All the time.
Swallowing the words that are on the tip of my tongue, I just pull her to me and shut the door behind her.
“About time you got here,” I mumble, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss. She responds just like she has every single time since Monday, pliant and willing and ready. I can’t get over it. I don’t know how I lucked out.
“I brought dessert,” she says when I finally let her go, dangling a bag between us. I didn’t even notice the little bag from a bakery.
I wink. “I think I could have found something else to eat for dessert.”
She pretends to pull out an imaginary tablet and mimes scrolling through it. “Yes, Mr. Brightman, I see we do have that on the agenda for the evening.”
Laughing, I lace my fingers through hers and lead her into the kitchen.
