by Serena Grey
“What is it with men and large desks,” I ask teasingly, running a hand over the polished wood. I prop myself on the surface and notice the picture I gave him, the racier one, sitting right next to the large computer screen. “So this is what you stare at when you’re supposed to be making money?”
“I can’t help myself.” He laughs, coming to sit on his high-backed swivel chair and drawing it closer to the edge of the desk so he’s right in front of me. “I get hard whenever I look at it.”
I wet my lips as his hands glide under my dress and over my thighs, drawing slowly toward the edge of my panties. His touch is searing, starting a fire that burns into my skin, through my blood, and right to my core. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” Landon whispers.
I do as he says, leaning my elbows on the polished surface of the desk, my eyes on his. He moves his hand between my thighs, his teasing fingers finding me through my light cotton panties. I throw my head back, sighing as he strokes me gently, rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb.
“You like that?” His voice is husky.
“Hmmm… yes.”
I hear him chuckle and the next moment he’s hooking a finger into the crotch of my panties and pushing them out of the way. Then his tongue is on me - light and sweet - licking, sucking, stroking, and driving me wild with pleasure.
I fall back on the desk, my hips writhing, my fingers finding his hair and pulling on the silky strands. He kicks the chair back, getting on his knees with his head still buried between my thighs. He licks my clit with sweet, gentle strokes, the tip of his tongue nudging the tiny bud before moving lower, over my folds, to my already pulsing entrance. He plunges his tongue deep inside me, and all my muscles turn to hot, molten desire.
Soon, my hips are bucking, rolling, and my whole body twisting with almost unbearable pleasure. I can feel his tongue, his fingers, the beginning of an orgasm building at my core, with heat spreading until all my lower body is a pulsing center of intense pleasure.
I draw up my legs when I come, my whole body rearing off the desk as if I’m having a seizure. Landon grips my thighs, his tongue continuing to torture me with pleasure until I beg him to stop. He raises his head, smiling at my heavy lidded and languid expression before he rises to his feet and moves the chair back toward the desk. He shifts to the very edge, pulling me off the desk to straddle his thighs.
I’m still feeling dazed from my orgasm, and I have to place my hands on his shoulders for balance. I wait while he undoes his pants, just enough so he can free the stiff column of his cock, then he lifts me by my hips, one hand holding my panties aside while he gently guides me down, until his whole length is sheathed inside me.
The pleasurable feeling of fullness brings me to life. A low sound escapes me, almost like a purr. The tips of my toes are touching the carpeted floor, only barely, but enough for me to put my weight on them while I lift my body, then push back down, riding him as hard as I want, as hard as I need.
There’s something incredibly erotic about the fact that we’re both fully dressed. His hands mold my thighs and buttocks under my dress, kneading my flesh almost feverishly. His teeth find a nipple through the material of my dress and bra, and the feeling makes me want to tear off my clothes to give him more access, yet I can’t stop riding him for long enough to do that, the pleasure is too much, too intense.
Arching my back, I take him deeper, so I can feel his balls, warm against my sensitive skin. I ride him faster, almost frantically, practically senseless against everything but how good he feels, how much I want him…
My eyes are closed, but I hear his loud groan as he rises from the chair, taking me with him. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms tight around his shoulders as he keeps me up with his strong arms, ramming forcefully into me, his breaths coming in low grunts. He lowers me to the desk, and I feel the polished wood against my buttocks, and Landon, thrusting, hard, deep, relentlessly. I let go of his shoulders, my body falling back on the desk, my arms tightening around my breasts as another orgasm builds and rips right through me.
I think I black out for a moment. When I come to my senses, Landon’s body is curved over mine, shuddering with the force of his own climax.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get any work done on this desk ever again,” he tells me, a dazed expression on his face.
I know the look is mirrored on mine. Sex has never felt this good with anyone before. It has never felt this complete, this pleasurable, or this fulfilling, and I know it never will, not with anyone but him.
“I’M so glad you’re still going to be in the building,” Chelsea says as we head out of my final meeting with the features team.
“Me too,” I’m feeling a little emotional. I handed in my notice first thing in the morning, and during the meeting with the other writers, Mark announced to everyone that I was leaving Gilt Travel. I’m still reeling from all the hugs and love I’d received afterward.
Reading my mood, Chelsea leaves me at the door to my office and I’m grateful for the solitude. There’s always something poignant about making a change in one’s life, I decide. Even though the change was something I wanted, I still felt a little raw inside.
Of course, the biggest change was something I hadn’t even allowed myself to think about. Moving in with Landon.
I want to. God knows I want to, with all my heart.
And he loves me. I don’t doubt that he does.
So why am I hesitating?
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. Glancing down at the screen, I smile when I see Laurie’s name.
“Yeah?” I answer pointedly. “New phone, who dis?”
Laurie starts to laugh. “Shut up.”
“You abandoned me for a man,” I accuse. “You are not forgiven.”
“I know I am.” She sounds confident, as if she knows I can’t be angry with her for any extended period. “You can’t hold out for this long.”
“How are you?” I ask softly, suddenly missing her.
She sighs. “Happy. What about you?”
“Landon asked me to move in with him.”
Laurie whistles. “You know, I was kinda expecting that. I think I saw it in his eyes on Saturday. But then, he always looks like he can’t wait to just… eat you up,” she laughs. “So what did you tell him?”
“Nothing,” I close my eyes, imagining what she’ll say. “I’m still thinking about it.”
“Knowing you, that probably means you’re thinking of reasons not to.” I can almost see her eye roll. “What’s there to think about, Rachel? He loves you. You love him.”
“Yeah, but…” I search for the right words to explain my hesitation. “Moving in together is such a big step. Are we ready for that? A few weeks ago, I was sure we were over. How many couples actually grow closer after they start living together? What if… you know, we get used to each other and become bored, then fall out of love.”
Laurie snorts. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“I am aren’t I?” I sigh. “I just… I have this fear. I love him so much. If anything went wrong. I’d...”
“Nothing will go wrong!” she exclaims. “Rach, there’s so much that’s only in your head. What’s the worst that can happen? Live a little! I, for one, believe that Landon would rather cut off a part of his anatomy than hurt you.”
That makes me smile. “Which part?”
Laurie cackles. “And I’m the one with the dirty mind?” She laughs some more, then continues. “Rach, say yes to that poor guy. I believe he suffers when you’re not in his line of sight.”
I chuckle. “Okay.”
“That probably means you’ll keep thinking and thinking yourself out of it.” I hear her snort. “Anyway, why I really called. I sent a link to your office email. Take a look.”
I navigate to my inbox on my computer and find the link. It’s an article with the picture of Landon and me kissing on the sidewalk. It’s actually a lovely picture, and the website is a reputable news site, n
ot one of the tabloids where I’d expected it to end up.
The accompanying article is also very tasteful. “Hotelier Landon Court spotted with his girlfriend, Rachel Foster. Court’s reps confirm that the two have been together for a couple of months. Miss Foster is an editor at Gilt publications, and her parents are renowned painter Lynne Foster, and Trent Foster of the high street clothing line Trent & Taylor.
Pictures from some of the events we’ve attended together also accompany the article, among them the champagne mixer and the Gold Dust opening in San Francisco.
“Cool, right?” Laurie says in a dreamy voice. “You look so pretty and in love.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, remembering the kiss, and thinking that somehow Landon must have taken control of the situation with the tabloid photographer. He probably bought the pictures and engaged a reputable journalist to put out the story the way he wanted.
“I’m going to have to get used to seeing you in the news,” Laurie is saying. “And you have to make sure you always look on point. You never know when someone is going to take a picture.”
I snort, imagining a life of always being under some sort of spotlight. “I’d rather not think about it. Let’s talk about Barbados instead.”
Laurie’s compromise with her mother was that if she agreed to go all the way to Barbados, then the wedding would take place as soon as possible. The date they’d set was only weeks away, and I thought it was perfect, mainly because I’m not very fond of drawn-out periods of event planning. I also think it’s lucky how our parents seem to find the opportunity to plan a wedding as an exciting interruption to their retirement, or semi-retirement in my mother’s case. They’ve taken over most of the arrangements and the planning, and Laurie with her busy schedule doesn’t really mind. In fact, she loves it.
“I’m sending you all the appointments for the following two weeks,” she tells me now. “My dress, your dress… Mom found me this stylist, and she wants to do a test run, so we’ll go get our makeup and hair done, so that for the two of us at least, she’ll know what she’ll be working with on the day of the wedding.”
“Sounds great,” I reply, looking forward to the time I’ll be spending with her. After a few more minutes on the phone, she has to get back to work, and I start the task of cleaning up my desk, doing all my pending work, and writing my handover notes. I’m not even close to done by the end of the day. When Landon calls, I’m so relieved to have an excuse to stop.
“Hey,”
“Hello, sugar.”
“Hmmm,” I grin, “I like that.”
“The endearment?” His voice is soft. “I have many more where that came from.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing them.”
“You will,” he promises. “What are you doing this weekend?”
I only think a moment before I reply. “You?”
Landon laughs. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, how would you like to do ‘me’ somewhere far away?”
I loved all the trips I’ve taken with him. He has the same love of quiet, serene places that I do. “Where do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see.” His voice gives nothing away and I have to stem my curiosity.
“You just love this weekend jaunts, don’t you?”
“I have a beautiful girlfriend to impress.”
“I’m already very, very impressed.”
“Allow me to keep blowing your mind, my darling.” When my only response is a soft sigh of pleasure, he continues. “So, what do you say?”
“Hmm,” I pretend to think about it. “Let me see… Do I want to spend the weekend with my sexy boyfriend?” I hear him chuckle. “Of course I’ll come.”
“Thank you, gorgeous. You’ve given me something to look forward to for the rest of the week.”
“I’m glad,” I reply, delighted as well. Remembering the article from this morning, I continue. “Laurie sent me the link to an article about us with the picture from yesterday. It was really tasteful, and they quoted your people.”
“Yes, that.” There’s a short pause from him. “There’s always going to be a story,” he says finally. “I took control of this one. I want the world to know about us, but I’d rather they heard from me, and not some pseudo-reporter in a sleazy tabloid.”
“You’re so anal,” I tease, but I understand why he would do what he did. It made our relationship seem less casual, less like a rumor, when his own reps had contributed to the article.
“I am thorough.” Landon corrects smugly. “There’s a difference.”
“Anal,” I insist.
He laughs. “How are your colleagues taking your move?”
“They’re all weeping inconsolably at their desks begging me not to go.”
“Lucky you. Over here, if I told them I was leaving… Going to start a colony in outer space or something, they’ll probably light a bonfire and dance around it all night.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” I reply, sure that if I am lucky, it’s because I have him. “I think they may be planning to throw me a party over here, which is good, but they’re making me prepare my handover notes. It’s taken all day and I’m famished.”
“Haven’t you had lunch?”
I shake my head. “Would you believe if I tell you that I forgot?”
“Let’s have an early dinner then.” His voice is laced with concern, which makes me smile. “I could pick you up in a few.”
I’m trying to identify the emotion coursing through me, and I realize it’s that feeling of delight arising from being cared for by someone I love. I love it. I really do. I close my eyes. “Yes please.”
WE have dinner at Mancini, and Landon is his teasing, attentive and sexy self, watching me indulgently as I wolf down my food.
“Aidan’s play is opening next week Thursday,” he informs me. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
“As if anything would keep me away.”
“Ha!” He laughs. “I have to be careful with you around him, so he doesn’t steal you from me.”
I dab my lips with a napkin. “I’m not a possession to be stolen or owned, Mr. Court,” I say in my best Lauren Bacall impression.
He raises one perfect brow and my mind is momentarily derailed with thoughts of how amazingly gorgeous he is, and how lucky I am. “Don’t I know that? You own me, however, and I’m glad to be your possession.” He looks so serious that I can’t resist the smile that pulls at my lips.
“You’re so cute when you’re charming.”
“No,” he replies. “I’m charming when I’m charming.”
“Oh!” I raise my brows. “Is that what the women tell you?”
“What women?” He grins. “There’s only one woman. There’s only ever been one woman.” He reaches out and touches the edge of my lip. “And she’s right here.”
Lord! “I love you, Landon.”
He doesn’t reply immediately. His eyes scour my face, blue and dazzling, blazing with emotion. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and clearly communicates the depth of his feelings for me. “There is absolutely nothing about you that doesn’t make me feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
I sigh, my heart floating to an unexplored plane of pure pleasure. “You’re killing me here.”
His grin tells me that he’s aware of the effect his words have on me. “The Hayes are coming to town for Aidan’s opening night. You remember Wilson and Betsy?”
“Of course.” Wilson Hayes was the former manager of the Swanson Court New York, who was now retired and managing Windbreakers, Landon’s home upstate. He’d been the main father figure in Landon’s life, at least after his mother died. “I’d like to see them.”
He pours me some more wine. “They’d love to see you,” he says. “Dinner then, on Friday next week? The day after the play.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Landon’s eyes wander from my face, down the front of my dress. “Now that I’ve bought you dinner,” he says with a naugh
ty grin, “Can we leave so I can put your new found energy to good use?”
“I think I’ll linger for a while,” I tease, pretending that I’m not as eager to devour him as he is for me. “I love the ambiance of this place.”
He looks around the dimly lit restaurant. “Fuck the ambiance,” he mutters, turning back to me and letting the smolder his eyes communicate exactly what he wants to do to me. “I need to be inside you.”
I bite the corner of my lip. “Okay, boyfriend,” I reply, forcing a lightness into my voice that belies the pleasant ache of arousal building in my lower belly, “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”
THE next day, I have one of my final interviews at a travel app startup that has gotten widely popular in the last few months. The office is close to Landon’s building, so when I’m done, I decide to surprise him.
At the gleaming marble lobby of the SCT building, the security personnel wave me through to the elevators, but on Landon’s floor, the receptionist gives me a strange glance as she buzzes open the glass security doors. She greets me with a smile before she quickly picks up the phone.
Deciding not to wonder if surprising Landon was such a good idea, I continue to his office. At the large outer office, Tony Gillies isn’t there to greet me, but one of the other assistants meet me at the door.
“Hello Miss Foster, I’m Sharon.” She’s about my age, smiling, but brisk in her manner. “Mr. Court is in a meeting now.”
“Okay.” I glance at my watch. “I’ll wait.”
She starts to say something else, but at that moment the opaque glass doors to Landon’s office open and Ava Sinclair walks out.
I suddenly can’t hear what Sharon is saying. My eyes are locked on Landon, who’s holding the door open for Ava. He doesn’t see me at first, he’s too busy saying goodbye to Ava, the fond smile on his face making my stomach tense.
After a final word of goodbye, Ava starts to walk toward the exit, toward me. Her eyes flick over me, and her lips lift in her signature smirk, then as she walks past me, she winks.
