by Lauren Dane
“How’d you like to find out?” I said, tossing him a wicked grin.
I loved saying that, figuring he’d laugh like the other programmers and then slap me on the back and ask me to go have a beer.
Imagine my surprise when he didn’t.
* * *
His mouth claimed mine, his lips moist and hot rubbing on my dry, cracked skin. He extended his curious journey to my bottom lip, nibbling on it until I surrendered to him like a hungry guppy. As if I had any choice. Before I could take a breath, his tongue darted into my mouth, sucking the air from me. That delicious moment stirred the fires in me left unattended for too long.
I couldn’t get enough of him.
Tasting, probing, exploring me in a long, uninterrupted kiss. I was acutely aware of his intentions, that he was demanding something I wasn’t ready to give. Sex with an improper stranger. Something new for me, seeing how I’d always skated through life on the sidelines.
Not tonight.
We were alone in here. Kissing like two teenagers, making loud noises and tearing at each other’s clothes. Nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the steady hum of the copy machine to keep us company. Drumming through my head like a vibrator on cruise control. I purred like a kitten, listening to my inner rhythm and loving it. I gave in willingly, my hormones flowing in harmony with his need, my need.
“Silly, dumb, stupid” were adjectives I’d use to describe my actions, but what girl stopped to think when a kiss was this good? I didn’t. My body became the prey of this corporate raider Casanova. His hands were all over me, toying with my heavy red-plaid flannel shirt, yanking at the buttons hanging on for dear life. With one small tug, he popped off the top two.
Oh, Lord, what next?
I did nothing to stop him when he cupped my breasts, wondering how far he’d go. He trailed his fingers along the flimsy black lace edging of my bra.
“Mmm...” he moaned. Was he enjoying the kiss? Or surprised that a geek like me was into sexy underwear?
Just wait until you see my new French-cut black satin panties, I wanted tell him. But I was so conscious of his devouring mouth on mine, my entire being trembling with suppressed emotion, I didn’t dare break the lip-lock.
Besides, I wasn’t going to let him get that far.
Was I?
Pressed up against the copy machine, I began to have my doubts. I couldn’t move, as surely as if I were tied down, my legs spread wide apart, his groin pressed into my mound. His hands wandered. Oh, boy, did they wander, searching up and down my body, his fingers pulling apart my shirt and letting it flap in the cool breeze blowing through the overhead AC vent.
“Oh, yes,” I barely breathed when he broke the kiss and then placed his hands on each side of my waist and squeezed it. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me when he touched my bare skin. I wanted him to go back to eyeing the cute black lace edging of my bra with a front hook.
A front hook, I wanted to shout.
No fancy maneuvering needed to prove to me how much of a stud he was by reaching around and undoing my bra with one hand.
My nipples ached for his touch, but he seemed fixated on stroking and then pressing the flesh on my hips. His hands roamed over my buttocks and then up and down my legs, gripping and squeezing them with a cavalier vigor that did me in. I arched my back toward him to give him greater access to me.
He grabbed my crotch.
I moaned. Damn, did it get any better than this?
Who would have thought I’d get caught in the copy room with a sexy guy when I had to work late? Not me. Had the geek fairy godmother heard my prayers and brought me a man of my own?
A little voice crept into my head, telling me to grow up and quit believing in fairy tales like my best friend, Cindy, but I couldn’t turn back now. I pretended I was a bucking bronco and this cowboy was taking me for a long, sexy ride. I writhed, humped and nearly assaulted him. I grabbed his black T-shirt and raked my nails up and down his chest. Wanting to touch him, feel him.
I breathed desire in his ear, not wanting to let him go. Still, I walked a delicate tightrope with this man. My ego was on the line. On one hand, I yearned to break boldly out of my shell. To act upon this chance encounter without guilt, no regret. Let him touch me, fondle me.
On the other, I was scared shitless.
What if I disappointed him?
This was a common problem with me. Analyzing the hell out of everything I did, even sex. I was no sleek avenger with all the right moves. I was more like the sassy-mouthed brainiac in the spy flicks who sat at her computer, tapping out answers on her fancy keyboard. Not that I’m bad looking, but I came off as an easy mark when I tried to flirt. I was too eager to please without thinking about the consequences.
Not tonight.
Sexually charged up, incredibly intense, I decided to go for it. I stepped out of my ordinary world and relished this escape from reality. My blue-rimmed spectacles slid all the way down my perspiration-slick nose. I didn’t push them back up.
How could I?
I was completely helpless in his arms when his hand dropped down between my legs, his fingers pressing against me. I wiggled my ass. I wished my jeans were off and he was pushing through my pubic hair until he found my throbbing clit.
Just thinking about it made me moan again; the steady pressure of his fingers rubbing against the rough denim stressed me out. I sensed this man possessed an enjoyment of sex that went way beyond a casual cop-a-feel.
A buzzing excitement slithered through me when I rubbed up against him, primal-like, daring him to tame me. I imagined him pulling down my jeans and panties and then probing me with his tongue, massaging all around my clitoris with his mouth. I growled, the low sound coming from the back of my throat.
That aroused him more.
I wiggled my hips, hoping he’d get the message. Something about the methodical yet sensual way he touched me set off a slow burn between my legs I couldn’t ignore.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, pulling on the drawstring of his sweats, but I couldn’t untie the knot. “It feels so good.”
“You tempt me, babe,” he said, kissing the nape of my neck. “Are there cameras in here?”
I shake my head. “Mr. Briggs is too cheap for that.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands holding me tighter. Pulling at my jeans and searching for the zipper hidden beneath the button-down flap in front.
“Allow me.” I unbuttoned the flap, nearly ripping it off.
“I’m curious,” he said, drawing down the zipper on my jeans with an alacrity that set me on edge. “How did you know I was in here?”
“I didn’t. I thought everyone had gone home.”
“You’re sure no one’s around?” He nibbled on my earlobe and then licked all around my ear until I shivered with pleasure.
“Yes. It’s Super Tuesday.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Poker night. The guys meet at Sam’s Bar after work and memorize cards.” A lightbulb moment flickered in my brain, making me ask, “How come they didn’t invite you?”
“I prefer strip poker.” He ran his fingers over my bare midriff, digging them down into the elastic waistband of my panties. I moaned and instinctively pushed against him. From the grin on his face, I could see he was turned-on.
“How about a game of Five-Card Stud?” I mumbled no louder than a whisper. Could he smell my need, moistening my panties with droplets of desire?
I could, which meant I couldn’t wait much longer.
“I’ve got a winning hand right here,” he said, grabbing my ass.
What would happen next, I could only guess. Anticipation, I found out, could be as good as or better than the sex.
I didn’t have long to wait to find out.
He turned me around and faced me toward the copier and then slid my jeans down below my thighs. Next, he pulled down my black silky panties and then ran his finger up and down the crack in my rear, eliciting a moan from me. I wiggled my butt as his fingers moved up and down in an intimate manner so close to my anal hole I couldn’t stop panting.
The naughty girl in me was overly excited by what was happening to me in the chilly copy room. I felt daring with my pants down in this high-tech room in an old Victorian mansion, once the seat of respectability.
And, boy, was I turned-on.
In spite of the air-cooled temp, I seethed with heated anticipation when he positioned himself behind me and then eased forward to push the bulge in his pants against my bare butt. I heard the snap of a condom.
“Is that a new one?” I asked him, hopeful.
That surprised him. “Don’t worry,” he said, laughing. “The expiration date is years away.”
I sighed, relieved. If I were thinking straight, that would have alerted me that something was wrong. Most programmers I knew carry subprime, expired condoms. But I wasn’t thinking straight. Instead, I twisted my head around and saw him pull out his dick and slip a raincoat over it.
Jeez.
“Big” didn’t begin to describe him.
I licked my lips.
I arched my back in total surrender when I felt his erect cock push against the cheeks of my backside. He found me wet and ready for him when he inserted one finger and then two inside me. Without a word, he slid into me with ease. I rode him without fear, his cock moving in and out of me, my passion building, his breathing becoming more erratic with each thrust. I squeezed my eyes, and I swear tears escaped onto my cheeks. My feelings became so intense I couldn’t help myself.
I moaned and moaned and moaned.
I didn’t care about anything else then. All I could do was let go. I couldn’t believe my luck. This was me, Pepper, desired by a sexy man. Instead of always being on the outside looking at the cool people, I was having a booty call at midnight, and it was sublime.
His hips smacked into my butt, pushing his cock into me, his breathing coming loud and fast. I could barely utter a word. My throat was hoarse from letting go of my emotions and the pent-up feelings buried so deep inside me. I couldn’t wait for release. I swear he sensed my desperation. He nuzzled his face in my hair, muttering sexy endearments in my ear, his musky, intoxicating smell overwhelming me. Then he fucked me harder, his thrusts stronger, his rhythm unchanging as his cock filled me until it was almost painful. I didn’t care.
“Harder,” I yelled.
The stirrings of a powerful orgasm built inside me. That delicious spiral of something intangible swirling around inside you. Promising you a taste of pleasure beyond what you’ve experienced; pleasure you will do anything for.
I couldn’t hold back much longer.
I leaned forward over the copy machine, pushing my buttocks up against him, urging him on. His body stiffened against me and he yelled out, his voice ragged, vibrating off the walls.
The room swayed in front of my eyes, the steady rhythm of sex, sex, sex beating in my brain like frenetic drummers with ceaseless energy. A surge much like an electrical charge gripped us both, racing through his body and into mine.
Then he came.
His explosive climax set off an out-of-control response in me. I went wild, crying out, thrashing about and slamming my hands down on the platen glass of the copy machine. Crazed, frantic, lost in whirling abandon, I slid my sweaty palms all over the machine. Wild, pawing, and scratching like a wolf in heat.
Oh, my God, it was good.
It didn’t last.
In a wild moment, I pushed the copy button by mistake. A powerful white light flooded into my face as the light bar moved back and forth, blinding me.
I hit another button and a blaring alarm went off.
Oh, shit.
I was a goner.
Chapter Two
Damn. I couldn’t see.
Groping helplessly, I fumbled around, trying to turn off the alarm, my panic mounting. Screeching, raw sounds grated on my ears, sending my passion into a nosedive.
No. No.
I pushed the button again, but the noise wouldn’t stop. I pushed another button, then another, but the damn thing kept shrieking like a video game villain gone berserk.
“What the fuck—” yelled the stud in black sweats, slipping out of me and then pulling up his pants.
“I can’t turn it off,” I cried out, frantic.
He pulled his baseball cap down lower. “Sorry I can’t help you, babe. Gotta go.”
Before I could pull up my jeans, he grabbed the file along with the copies from the exit tray and started for the door.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I didn’t come yet.”
“I owe you one,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. Tender-like. That surprised me. Then he saluted me with the tip of his cock—I mean, cap—before he raced out the door. I noticed then his hair looked weird, askew. It didn’t hit me until later he was wearing a dark wig under that cap.
“You can’t leave me like this,” I moaned, sinking down to my knees with my jeans squashed around my ankles. “You can’t.”
I squeezed my pubes together, but the unbearable ache in my groin wouldn’t go away. And that noise. I couldn’t stand it. I hit the machine with my fist, expecting it to blow up in my face. I didn’t care if it did.
To my surprise, the noise stopped.
The room went deadly quiet. Like a tomb.
I let out my breath and wiped off the sweat running down my cheeks, my neck. The silence was worse. My passion refusing to die, my ego suffering, my mind telling me I must withdraw, retreat. Forget him.
I couldn’t.
I wanted to cry.
I was caught up in a web of fantasy that had crossed over into my real world, and I didn’t want to escape its spell. I wanted to remain in this sexual wonderland like I was Alice.
Still groggy, frustrated, I noticed the stud had dropped the original file on his way out but taken the copies with him. Curious, I reached over to grab the sheets of paper spread out on the floor.
No sooner did I wrap my fingers around the official-looking documents than Ms. Sims, Mr. Briggs’s office manager, burst through the door, yelling, “What the hell are you doing in here?”
The Wicked Witch of the West.
In person.
She glared at me through her glued-on lashes. You’d think she’d never seen nude buttocks before when she saw me scrambling to pick up the papers scattered everywhere. My bare ass was up in the air, my thighs still wet with excitement.
I didn’t get along with the tall, skinny woman with the perennial Vogue smirk on her lips. Ms. Sims—no one knew her first name—always wore black, including black jet earrings that dangled to her shoulders. I swore under the gaudy fluorescents her skin had a green-gray tinge. She’d never liked me from the day I was hired. I was the only programmer the agency had in their job bank who could write the code they needed, so she was stuck with me. And she knew it.
“I was working late on that commercial spot—” I began, pulling up my jeans.
She ignored my explanation. “How long have you been using the copy room for your trysts?”
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were sleeping with the whole department,” she said, twitching her nose at me like a squirrel. “On company time.”
“That is so not true, Ms. Sims,” I protested, waving the papers around in a circle. “The guy flirted with me and then kissed me. It went downhill from there.” I didn’t tell her that I came on to him, never dreaming where it would lead: straight to paradise until the mac
hine went wonky.
“I warned Mr. Briggs this would happen if he hired a female programmer.” “That has nothing to do with it, Ms. Sims,” I said. “I’m a good employee. I’m always here on time, and I work late. I even put the toilet paper on the spool in the girls’ bathroom the way you like it.” Over, not under. Ms. Sims liked to be in control of everything, even where you took a pee.
She pushed her dangly earrings off her shoulders and then motioned for me to hand her the documents. “Let me see what you were working on.”
“These papers aren’t mine—” I insisted, handing her the wrinkled sheets of paper.
“Then whose are they?” She grabbed them out of my hand, nearly tearing them in half.
“The new video game designer,” I insisted. “I found him in here making copies.”
“You’re lying. He doesn’t start until next week.” She held the papers flush against her flat chest so I couldn’t see them.
“What?” I blurted out, disbelieving. My thighs quivered and not in a good way. I’d been played, but by whom?
“No more excuses, Pepper. I want answers. Now!” she screeched.
“I—I...” Nothing came out. I swallowed hard and squeezed my butt cheeks together until they burned. Of all the low-down, dirty tricks, this was the worst. The geeky types I work with must have sent the stud here to punk me. Oh, my God, what if they’d set up a hidden camera in here? What if my big moment had already gone viral on the internet? Oh, shit, I was had.
“Admit it,” Ms. Sims said, prodding me. “You sneaked a man in here and had sex with him while you copied confidential documents.”
“I did not copy any docs,” I said, trying to convince myself it was just a practical joke. It couldn’t be anything else, could it?
“Then what were you doing with Mr. Briggs’s—” she cleared her throat “—tax returns. They’re not for your eyes or anyone else’s.”
I shook my head, not getting it. Why would this prankster make copies of my boss’s classified information? Unless—
