by Brux, Boone
Tor’s voice came out gravelly and a little terse. “Nikki, will you walk me to the elevator? I’d like to discuss a few things about tomorrow.”
She stared into his unwavering expression, slightly confused and once again irritated by his surly manner. “Of course, Mr. Stephanos.”
“Should I wait to walk you out?” Creed shrugged. “Perhaps we could share a cab.”
Again Tor cut her off, “This may take a while, but I’m sure Demetria would appreciate an escort.”
“Of course.” Creed’s smile faltered. He sat again and poured half a glass of wine. “Might as well finish this off while I’m waiting.”
Discussions with Tor were usually quick and to the point. Maybe Creed would still be around when she finished—she certainly hoped so. She gave him a wide smile and held out her hand, hoping it conveyed her apologies and interest.
“Coming, Nikki?” Tor turned the corner, not checking to see if she followed or giving her time to reply.
She gritted her teeth. What in the heck had gotten into him? He usually didn’t bark commands at her. Why was it that the one time in more months than she wanted to admit, a guy finally showed interest, Tor decided to have a psychotic episode? “He’s usually not like this. I promise.” She pulled back her hand, her smile tightening. “See you tomorrow, Creed.”
“I look forward to it.” He held up his glass in a salute.
She turned and walked with as much dignity as she could muster, knowing he was watching her. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. She rounded the corner and jumped, nearly running into Tor, who waited on the other side of the wall. “God, you scared me.”
His fingers wrapped around her upper arm and he started to walk across the hallway to the bank of elevators, semi-dragging her with him. “You seemed to have hit it off nicely with Creed.”
She did a little skip to keep up with his long strides. “He’s a nice guy. I think he’ll fit in well here.”
“Do you?”
She leaned away from him, trying to gauge if he was sincerely interested in her opinion or not, but the lighting had been turned down, making it was difficult to see his face. Was he angry? His tone said he certainly wasn’t happy. “Is something wrong?”
“What could be wrong?” His hand slid from her arm to rest on her waist. “I just don’t like my assistant flirting with the new boy.”
“I wasn’t flirting.” Well, maybe she had been a little bit, but never once in the six years she’d worked for Tor had he ever shown concern in her private life or interests. What was he up to now? His fingers splayed against her lower back, pulling her a little closer to him. Her ire melted and warmth spread through her, sending butterflies up into her chest. It was odd and exhilarating to have him touch her.
Contact had been minimal up until now, an elbow brush in the car, finger touches when handing him files, but nothing beyond that. A strange notion hit her. Was he jealous? She tested out the idea. “But it might be nice to go on a date if he asked. I think we have a lot in common.”
His hold tightened. “Do you?”
Okay, something was definitely wrong. His hand stopped pushing her along and began a tiny stroking motion against her waist, and a tremor of pleasure skated through her. She struggled to wrap her mind around the fact that Toraos Stephanos was jealous, which meant he must be interested in her. Wait, did it mean he was interested, or just being an overly possessive boss who was afraid of losing his underpaid, overly fervent assistant?
He stumbled and fell against her. Whether on purpose or accident, the hand on her waist made a bold move upward to her breast.
“Whoa there.” Her reaction was swift but futile. The man was strong and his hand determined. A zing of desire shot through her when his fingers found her nipple through her jacket. “We—uhhh.” His thumb pressed against her, drawing her to a tight peak. What had she been going to say? With Herculean effort, she pushed his hand down to rest at her waist. He stumbled again. “Are you drunk?”
He mumbled something she couldn’t understand into her hair. Of course he was drunk. He’d just fondled his assistant. To prevent him from falling, she wrapped her arm around his hips. If she could get him into his private elevator and upstairs, he should be okay.
“We’re almost there.”
“Your hair smells good.” He nuzzled her ear and sniffed. “Like rain and sunshine.”
“Well, I did just switch shampoos.”
This night had shot from a four to a seven on her bizarre meter. He was so close and felt entirely too good pressed against her.
She tilted her head away from him, trying to dislodge his face from her hair, but he stuck to her like Velcro. As they stopped in front of the elevator, she had to lean into him in order to press the button, which brought them face-to-face.
Eyes the color of toffee peered back at her. Oh man, he was so gorgeous he scattered her thoughts.
Her finger flailed against the cool metal plate until she found the ‘up’ button. She punched the up arrow but didn’t lower her hand because he stroked her arm. She should protest but that would require coherent thought and the ability to form sentences.
His fingers slid from her wrist, along her forearm, and under her elbow, sending tingles rippling across her shoulders. Her breath hitched as her arm hovered in the air, afraid if she moved he’d stop touching her. His gaze caressed her face and heat blossomed up her neck. Was he going to kiss her? He looked like he was going to kiss her. He shouldn’t kiss her. Please God, let him kiss me.
Her conscience shouted, “He’s your boss! And he might possibly be liquored up!” from somewhere in the back of her mind. Screw that. Toreas Stephanos was feeling her up finally and she was totally going with it. With a mental kick, she slammed the door on her pesky scruples.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open just as he leaned in. Instead of giving her the much-anticipated kiss, Tor wrapped his hands around her arms and backed her into the confined space. His eyes never left hers and his mouth teased, lingering an inch from her lips.
But he didn’t kiss her. Damn him.
He crowded her into the elevator until she bumped against the back wall, the sleek handrail that ran around three sides of the car pressing into her back. The entire length of his torso lay against her, and she could feel every curve, every dip…and every bulge of his body. Even she couldn’t misread the message. He wanted her.
The doors shut, but the elevator didn’t move.
“I don’t have the spare keycard.” Her voice cracked. “Do you have yours?”
“It’s in my pocket.” A wicked smile spread across his mouth, and he placed a hand on either side of her head against the wall. “Find it.”
Nikki swallowed hard. “Umm no. ”
He tilted his head, his gaze drilling into hers. “Yes.”
Since the day Tor had interviewed her for the job, she’d dreamed about fondling his tight rear end, and now she’d been handed a grope all you want pass. But she really needed to resist the temptation. She shuddered to think what this morning after might look like, fairly certain it would include a pink slip for date raping her drunk boss. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I do.”
This was getting her nowhere. Without his cooperation, she wouldn’t be able to get him to the penthouse. No assistant should have to endure this much temptation. If she got him in bed—unmolested—she’d deserve a raise.
Her touch was tentative at first, like finally trying on the thousand-dollar pair of shoes in the store window she’d always admired but unsure if they’d be as awesome as she imagined. She needn’t have worried.
Her hands glided across the firm plains of his backside. Sweet baby Jesus, he was built. Her fingers itched to squeeze the tight cheeks and pull him against her, but she only just remembered she was searching for his security card. “You don’t have any back pockets.”
“Don’t I?” He ground his hips against her pelvis, and his voice rumbled against her chest.
“You’d best check the front ones.”
This was not happening. Her super hot boss who’d never shown an ounce of interest in her before tonight was not urging her to feel up his merchandise in the company elevator. No way. But what if he was? What was she going to do about it? She needed to find his key card and get him to his suite of rooms upstairs, that’s what. Clearly he had drunk more than she remembered, and they’d both be embarrassed in the morning.
Her hands slid along his hips and into the front pockets of his pants. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned forward, bending her elbows in order to wedge her fingers into the constricted compartments. The small space separating them shrunk. Their lips brushed but didn’t fully make contact.
His topaz gaze caught hers again and wouldn’t let go. Silently they both weighed what was about to happen, his fist gripping her blouse and pulling her even closer.
She dove deeper, kind of searching for the keycard, but mainly hoping for a gratuitous feel of his manhood, if she were being honest.
The man was pure perfection. Her hand bumped the rigid line of his erection, eliciting a low growl from him, and all thoughts of resisting morphed into an all-consuming need she couldn’t fight any longer. She schooled the impulse to wrap her leg around his waist and grind like a teenager at prom. If they were going to do this, and by now she’d pretty much decided to hell with her job—she wanted this man more than her next breath, she didn’t want to be interrupted. With a mental shake, she swept her hands along the inside of his pockets.
“There’s no key in your front pockets either,” she whispered against his mouth.
He leaned back a fraction, removing his creeping hand from her ribs, and extracted the card from the breast pocket of his jacket. “Oh, here it is.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You knew it was there all the time.”
Without denying her accusation, he twisted to swipe the card along the security pad and pressed P. The only time she’d ever been to his penthouse was to drop off dry cleaning or files that needed to be signed. The visits had been brief, and she’d always been alone. Not this time.
The elevator hummed and eased upward. He faced her, their eyes locking. This was it, the moment she’d been dreaming about since the day she’d met Toraos Stephanos.
The million reasons why she shouldn’t make out with her boss now the furthest thought from her mind. Screw it all. She’d start combing the want ads in the morning, but tonight she was going to finally find out what it meant to be fucked by a god.
And right now she wanted that kiss. She rose onto her tiptoes to meet his lips halfway.
Imagination had nothing on the real thing.
At first touch, electricity ignited through her body, crackling along her skin and making the hair on her arms tingle. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the recessed lights above flickered. Wow, it was like Mardi Gras in her mouth.
She gasped and his tongue swept in, effectively driving every sane thought from her head as an unbearable sweetness coated her tongue. No wonder Demetria hadn’t wanted to share the wine from the golden bottle; it made the red she and Creed had been drinking taste like vinegar.
A euphoric haze stole through her mind, lighting every nerve in her body. It was as if Tor had morphed into one of those Hindu gods with a gazillion arms. His hands were everywhere, God bless him, fondling her breasts, stroking her back, and massaging her butt, seemingly all at the same time.
She gripped his ass and pulled him against her. When that wasn’t satisfying enough, she attempted a leg wrap, but the confining material of her skirt halted her vigorous attack, snapping her leg back down. Damn her sensible work clothes.
Tor broke their kiss and twisted, smashing the emergency stop button with his fist. The elevator lurched to a halt, throwing Nikki against him. His fingers pulled at the pins in her hair and loosened the tight bun. She gave a little shake of her head, sending the straight tresses cascading over her shoulders.
Next, Tor’s exploration moved to the buttons of her jacket, pulling until it fell open to expose her clinging camisole to his touch. Cool air from the vent swept around her but was instantly warmed by the heat of his body.
She knew she should stop this—they were making out in the company elevator. There might even be security cameras in here. But then he kissed her and all coherent thoughts of propriety and modesty evaporated like a fog on a warm summer morning. She couldn’t care less right now if this moment ended up on YouTube tomorrow. Maybe she’d become an internet sensation: How To Screw Your Boss Into Delirium. Totally worth it.
His hands glided up her waist, over her breasts, and along her shoulders to push the jacket off. The coat dropped to the floor, and she gave it a quick kick into the corner. His lips found hers again, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. She threaded her fingers through the strands of his thick hair, relishing the silkiness.
His sensual attack traveled downward, along her neck and collarbone. Moist kisses were followed by the tickle of breath brushing against her sensitive skin. He traced the top of her green camisole with his fingertips.
“I’ve always wondered what you hid under those proper jackets.” His finger hooked he thin strap and pulled it over her shoulder to expose one of the bright-green lace cups of her push-up bra. “Ah, more layers.”
“Really? You’ve always wondered?” She brushed the hair away from his face so she could watch his movements. “Because you never seemed interested before tonight.”
“Then I was a fool.” He laid several kisses along the swell of her breast before dipping his fingers beneath the delicate material to pull it down and expose her nipple. “That’s what I’ve been looking for.”
“Are you sure you haven’t drunk too much? Maybe your wine was stronger than mine.”
He didn’t answer, only gave her a low moan of satisfaction.
Her breathing became labored, and her back arched toward him, needing to feel his lips on her body. The moist drag of his tongue rasped across her nipple. She watched him pull back and blow, the pink bud tightening into a painful nub, and a surge of desire spiraled to her core.
He lowered his head again, drawing her nipple into his mouth. A moan mixed with panting escaped her. When his hand drifted to remove the other shoulder strap, she reached over and practically ripped the camisole off.
“Too slow,” she panted. Her head lolled against the smooth panel of the back wall and her eyes closed.
A low chuckle escaped his throat as he continued his assault. With each tug of his mouth, a delicious ache surged between her legs. His lips traveled to the other breast, pulling away the lace and laving her nipple with equal attention. She tightened the grip on his hair, guiding him, demanding more. He complied. “You taste like wine,” he said, his voice vibrating against her breast.
“It’s the wine I spilled.”
“I like it.”
After several minutes of mindless bliss from his mouth, Tor knelt to caress her calves, his fingers drifting up and under her skirt and gathering the material. His gaze captured hers, burning into her. The beat of her heart quickened. He had a way of making her feel like the sexiest woman on earth right now. All of this was almost too good to believe—though she’d dreamed of it a million times.
“God, you smell good.” He nuzzled against her stomach, drawing in a deep breath. “I need you—need to touch all of you, Nikki.”
Fine with her—no, not fine, but then he touched her again. She couldn’t have brought herself to stop him if she’d wanted—which she didn’t. The skirt hitched around her upper thighs and she was suddenly very happy all her comfy cotton panties had been in the laundry.
Tor leaned in and kissed her inner thigh, his tongue sweeping upward, drawing gloriously close to where she wanted him to focus his attention. She shifted and widened her stance—just in case they had the same idea.
His fingers stroked up the back of her thighs and around the inside to lightly brush the juncture between her legs. Sweet mother of pear
l, she was ready to jump out of her skin. The worry of later consequences ghosted through her mind one final time, but when Tor’s hands slid over her rear end and hooked his fingers at the waistband of her lacy undies to drag them down, all thought vanished. The garment pooled around her ankles and she kicked it free, adding it to her jacket in the corner.
She grabbed the hem of her skirt and hauled it upward, allowing Tor free rein, and he gave her the most satisfied smile she’d ever seen on a man, before turning his attention back to her heat.
With the lightest touch, he brushed his fingers along her sensitive flesh. Shivers vibrated along her thighs. Again he stroked her, this time a little harder. His finger brushed her clit, making her jump. His hands caressed the front of her thighs, his thumbs massaging inward, opening her to his touch, and she let her knees widen, giving him better access. Tension seized her body as she waited for that glorious sensation—the first swipe of his hot tongue.
He leaned in, burying his face against her…and licked.
“Tor.” His name hissed from her lips. No other words would come.
He turned slightly and slid his shoulder between her legs, lifting her thigh to nestle more firmly against him. His tongue flicked, and she thought her knees were going to buckle from the exquisite sensation racing through her. Her hips thrust against his mouth, and a low moan rumbled from him, the strokes of his tongue increasing in pressure and speed. His hands kneaded her ass, pulling her close, drinking her in.
Unable to help herself, she twined her fingers through his hair to hold him against her. Spikes of pleasure spiraled, drawing out the heated ache growing between her legs. She gyrated against his mouth as his tongue flicked her clit and then drove deep into her. Tiny whimpers huffed from her with each thrust of her hips. She hovered, needing the release that held her at the edge of ecstasy.
Just then, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside her as his tongue flicked and dragged, working her until she thought she’d shatter. She gasped and pressed forward, riding his mouth while one of his hands held her ass, firmly moving her back and forth along his tongue, and the other expertly pumping his fingers inside her, drawing out the exquisite torture.
