by Michele Hauf
Zac didn’t comment on the lush atmosphere as he crawled onto the bed with her in his arms. He was strong, and again she had to wonder when geeks had started to work out, because his biceps were solid and bulging under her exploratory fingers. Did it matter?
With one shoulder of her dress in each hand, he pulled the clingy red rayon down to expose her bra. “I like red.” He nibbled the lacy edge and tugged it down with his teeth to reveal her nipple. “But I like this rosy color even better.”
She moaned as he painted his hot tongue around her nipple. Rachel clutched the bed sheets in utter pleasure and dug her heels into the mattress.
“Is this all right?” he muttered between tongue lashes to her skin. “Away from the office?”
“Yes,” she gasped, as he began to peel the dress down her stomach. “Just don’t kiss and tell, okay?”
“So we’re doing the secret sex?”
“No, I mean…” She lifted his head with a hank of his hair. “You do work in the same building. I don’t want to walk down the hall to the chorus of snickers from the other IT guys.”
He clasped his hands over her stomach and assumed a serious moue. She didn’t want a conversation right now but sensed one coming.
“Is there something wrong with me being from IT?” he asked. “I sense a certain discrimination in your tone every time you mention it. Not good enough for the high fashion office chick?”
“No, that’s not it at all. Hell, you’re smart. Probably much smarter than I am. I’ve just never, well…”
“So I’m a fascination to you?” He rested his chin gently on her panting stomach.
The view between her breasts and down her stomach was all brows and dark eyes and oh, that soft hair. She ran her fingers through it. “You are a fascination. And I like to indulge my adventurous whims. Got a problem with that?”
He thought about it. And she squeezed her thigh muscles to contain the waning flutters of desire. His shirt collar tickled her mons through the dress, and she was thankful she hadn’t worn panties.
When his hand glided up her leg, over her knee, and between her thighs to land at the heat of her pussy, she didn’t need to hear his response. Nor did he give one. Instead, he bowed his head and put his tongue to better use. Slicking, gliding, sucking, and teasing her into a panting, wanting girl on fire.
“But really.” All exquisite goodness focused on her clit suddenly ceased. Zac looked up again, a dash of dark hair had fallen across his forehead. “I’m not good enough for you, is that it? That’s why you didn’t want to do the date thing.”
“You are thinking far too much, and veering down dangerous paths. I just want to have sex with you and not discuss the social implications of our hookup. Can you deal?”
“Yes. I…right. I’m overthinking this. I have a tendency to organize and view from all angles…” He bowed his head, lush dark hair tickling her bared skin. “Sorry.”
And Rachel sighed, falling down from the high of what had promised to be a sudden and explosive orgasm. He’d said sorry. That was the last word a girl wanted to hear in bed. Even if they weren’t officially in bed, just more sprawled on it in a furious race to the finish line. This time, the trace of his tongue over her folds didn’t quite stir the flame.
They should have never talked. Damn it!
She shuffled away from his tongue and sat up, bending her legs to sit and pushing the hair from her face. He was still fully dressed, and she… Sometimes, she was so brazen. And, normally, she was okay with that. But right now, she pulled a pillow across her lap and leaned her breasts against it. A form of protection from the weird emotions jittering around inside her.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked in the sweetest, little boy manner that made her want to pat him on the head—but she didn’t.
“You asked questions,” she said plainly.
He rolled to his back and blew out a breath, stretching out one arm to run down her leg and clasp the ankle. “Right. Too deep for a hookup. I get it. Sorry, normally I’m much better at this.”
Another sorry. Aggh!
“Stop apologizing for something that doesn’t require the sentiment.” Rachel raked her fingers through her long curls. “Maybe we should have left this in the elevator.”
“No,” he said with conviction. “This is not an office hierarchy fascination thing for me, Rachel. I wanted you tonight because…” He rolled over onto his elbows and kissed her thigh. “I haven’t been able to get oranges out of my brain.”
“What?”
“You smell so good. I entirely expect to taste the tang of citrus when I lick your skin.”
She used bergamot oil from a jar of preserved oranges. A drop behind each ear, at her elbows, and behind her knees—every morning and night. It was something her grandmother had taught her. She liked the fresh scent and being a little different than all the Chanel No. 5 fans.
“Oranges and spice,” she said absently, feeling as though the conversation might blossom into an official, get-to-know-one-another talk, and so not wanting that. Too soon. Too intimate. Too much.
Especially for a hookup.
Zac’s cell phone rang. Rachel sighed, dropping her shoulders. “I’ll let you get that. The mood is spoiled.”
“It is—sorry.”
And yet another sorry. Twisting her legs off the bed, she pulled up her dress top and strolled out. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
*
Zac answered the late call, doing the math as he did so. It was four p.m. in New York. “Joel.” He looked down the hall and didn’t spy Rachel, but decided to sneak into the bathroom behind the closed door anyway.
“How’s it going in Paris?”
“What’s this about a memo to the branch stating a bigwig was on the way? I thought this was a covert mission?”
“It is. Shit. The office knows? I might as well just pull the plug right now, then.”
“No! I haven’t had a proper look around yet.”
Was he saying that because he needed to delve further into the office activities, or because he still hadn’t fucked Rachel? And while that wasn’t the goal, it was the desire. Mixing business with pleasure? He could handle it.
He could.
“It would be a mercy to the employees if we closed up shop before the scheduled ad meeting on Friday,” Joel insisted.
“I don’t believe so. Just don’t do anything. I still have my cover. Give me until Friday morning.” And he hung up, not waiting for approval. Because he was the CEO. He told people what to do. Not the other way around.
And yet… Was it the very fact that he’d been mistaken for a low man in the office hierarchy that he was enjoying this whole experience so much? Since arriving, he hadn’t been expected to command and conquer. Rather, he’d been ordered to his knees and asked to do his best. He kind of liked the freeing feeling of not being the big man on top that everyone feared.
Now. To command and conquer the woman? Or to stand back and assess, allowing her to show him how she wanted this to go?
Zac nodded. Allowing Rachel to lead the way was becoming more and more pleasurable.
Chapter 6
Rachel turned on the arm of the couch where she sat, straining to hear Zac’s phone conversation. Impossible. Which was just as well. She didn’t want to know his secrets. And yet… She’d come to a conclusion in the few minutes she’d been sitting here.
Zac wandered out of the bedroom, fixing his tie and smoothing a hand through his hair.
“I’ve thought about it. Us,” she corrected as she stood and grabbed his tie, tugging him closer. “I’m not one to play games. I expected certain things when you invited me to dinner tonight, and I’m not going to wimp out just because you haven’t caught up with the program. So get on board.” She slid a hand down and gripped his crotch, satisfied to find that his erection was hard. “Fast.”
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
“You speak French?”
He slid a hand up to her breast an
d squeezed the nipple. “Oui. Non. S’il vous plait. Merci. You have now heard my entire French oeuvre.”
“I wish I knew how to say on your knees in French.”
His eyebrow quirked and a smile lit in his eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve requested as much from me. Do you call this manner of yours aggressive or assertive?”
She tugged his tie, and he bent at the knees, keeping eye contact as he went down. “Most definitely assertive.”
He kissed her thigh and nudged her skirt hem with his nose, raising it slightly, then glided his fingers up under the fabric and pulled her in close to kiss her bared mons. His tongue lashed out, tasting her wetness.
Rachel clung to his hair, clutching and moaning every time his tongue touched her sensitive clit.
“I’ve always favored software studies over hardware,” he commented with a wink up toward her. “Let’s see how long it takes to get your system online.”
And despite his corny metaphors, Rachel couldn’t find a protest as his fingers slid inside her to tease, coax, and explore, working in tandem with his tongue. She bobbled backward and let her body fall onto the couch. Zac followed, lifting her leg by the ankle to direct it over his shoulder. Gladiator sandal pointing in the air, she lifted her hips, seeking his delicious ministrations.
Zac’s hand slid under her thigh and squeezed her ass, pushing her up as he greedily fed on her. Sucking in the corner of her lip, she fell into the shimmery, jittery sensations that caressed her body from head to toes. He worked an indescribable magic on her. Fueling her desire, her pleasure, and, at her very core, her creativity in ways he couldn’t even imagine. But more than that? He was completely focused on her, and that kind of attention never got old.
“Yes, right there,” she whispered as his fingertip glided along her outer labia, putting delicious pressure on her clitoris. “Oh…” She clutched Zac’s hair and the couch beside her, tightening her muscles and then… “Yes!”
Having brought her to orgasm swiftly and with flare, Zac knelt over her, hastily tugging off his tie. He shed his shirt, and she heard the distinctive tick of his zipper as he set free his hard and ready cock. As Rachel rode the waning orgasm, she gestured that he glide his erection inside her. And he filled her with an exquisite hardness that reignited the orgasm and again pushed her over the edge. Gripping him by the shoulders as he thrust into her, she cried out in joy at the tremendous release.
It didn’t take him long to reach the same pinnacle, and with a satisfied chuckle and a kiss to her breast, he then lifted her into his arms, destination, the bedroom.
*
Zac glanced at the bedside digital clock. 12:40 a.m.. He wasn’t tired. But he was deliciously exhausted.
Rachel nudged him even as she burrowed her face into the pillow and managed a deft sheet cover with her knee. “You should leave.”
He rolled over and gaped at her, but she didn’t notice his astonishment. Hair tousled and a smile on her face, she was toeing the doorway to Nod.
She was kicking him out of her bed?
“I can’t do the sharing a ride to the office thing,” she murmured. “Not wise. See you in eight hours, lover. Mm, that was so good.”
He couldn’t even find anger. There was no need. She was right. He needed to return to the hotel and leave for work from his base, not hers. They were not a couple. They didn’t share rides, or even showers.
Though he wouldn’t refuse a shower with her if she offered. Sucking her wet nipples into his mouth? His cock pulsed.
Sitting up, he reluctantly gathered his clothes and tugged the pants on over an erection he knew he’d have until he finally did shower. After four orgasms, he hardly felt it was fair to seek another quickie before leaving. Rachel was exhausted. And he was blissfully satiated, as well.
He leaned over and clicked off the soft pink light that colored Rachel’s skin as if it were a rosy fruit. The room went dark gray. A slash of gold from a streetlight beamed through the curtains. He kissed her on the head, drew in the scent of her... Oranges and spice? Ah, she’d been referencing his cologne with the spice. A nice combination.
“Until later.”
Locking her front door behind him, he took the stairs down to the lobby. Zac couldn’t help but replay his thoughts about Rachel being in control. Her confidence was a key sexual attraction. He bet she was a force, delivering a presentation or arguing the benefits of one marketing campaign over another. Even if she did harbor some reluctance about pulling off the managerial position, he sensed it was because of her work overload. Talk about taking over a shitload.
But the control. He smoothed a hand down his tie. Normally, he preferred to be the one who directed a relationship, whether it was a one-night stand or a multiple-month fling. Yet with a job as demanding as his had been lately, he felt a grateful relaxation fall over him to know that someone else had taken the reins.
He could relinquish control around Rachel. He’d never felt so relaxed around a woman. Or unthreatened. Except that part where he’d almost blown it by asking her about the IT fascination thing.
Rachel Parker didn’t need a man. She just wanted to have fun. And that was incredibly sexy to him. And also, a challenge. Because, truthfully? He’d like her to need him.
Just a little bit.
*
For some reason, work seemed to grow easier. Rachel couldn’t be sure why the computer apps she normally found confusing suddenly seemed to remind her of meetings or due projects. Nor could she figure why she could actually find the design files for which she’d been searching days.
She’d mark it off as getting her groove on and finally tapping into her creativity.
Because, seriously? Zac had stoked her fire last night. Call it orgasm mojo. This morning she’d flown out of bed, showered, and sang at the top of her lungs. She was surprised birds hadn’t helped her dress while squirrels bounced down the sidewalk accompanying her on the walk to the metro.
She sipped coffee and blushed. Yes, Rachel Parker was sitting alone in her office, getting all hot and bothered as she considered the intensity of Zac’s tongue tracing her skin and arriving at the sweet spot that he had known how to control. Was it because the man was already a master of various other kinds of buttons? He was certainly snapping the office computer system back into shape.
Amelie popped her head into the office and waved a stack of pink messages. Her bouncy ponytail thwapped her cheek. “You look pleased,” she said, though voiced as an uncertain question.
“I am pleased.” Rachel indicated her nearly clean desk. “LeTrec’s accounts are balanced, thanks to my clear head this morning. Now, I’ve just a few shipping invoices to approve and when I’m finished—”
“You’ll work on the design ideas for Friday’s meeting?”
“Crap.” She set the coffee mug down sharply on the glass desktop. “I forgot about that.” No, she hadn’t, she’d simply set it aside mentally until her coffee could be enjoyed. “Have you heard from the home office? When is that guy supposed to be here?”
“No idea. The person who sent me the memo heard it from another person who heard it from another person, who thinks they overheard a phone conversation.”
“Seriously? So this is all hearsay?”
Amelie winced. “I do trust my source.”
Rachel splayed out her fingers on the glass desktop, seeking calm. “Fine. I’ll deal with that disaster if and when it crosses my path. Now. The ad.”
“If you need some ideas for the meeting…”
She tilted her head at Amelie. “What do you mean?”
Amelie shrugged that sheepish little girl movement that always angered Rachel. Women should stand up for themselves and not shrink into the wallpaper at the mere opportunity to stand out.
“Spit it out, Amelie. Do you have ideas?”
“Actually, I have a few sketches. I like to doodle when I have downtime. They’re nothing really.”
How many times had Rachel used that phrase ‘nothing
really,’ when inside, her soul had been beaming, waiting to break free and show the world what she could do?
“Show me.”
Amelie nodded and bounced out.
Curious, Rachel strolled out to her secretary’s desk, and when Amelie handed her a sketchbook, she poked her at the base of her spine, a move her mother had made many a time to make her stand up straight.
“Your voice is stronger when you stand up straight. And you look better when you hold your shoulders back. Work it like you mean it.”
“I try. I just…what do you think?”
Rachel paged through the spiral-bound book, which featured sketches of shoes, and even a few pages of ad ideas. It was remarkable. “You’ve got the storyboard process mastered. This one is interesting. The couple on the couch, talking about her shoes. But not sexy enough.”
“I have trouble with the sex,” Amelie confessed. “I never know how far is too far.”
Rachel handed her the sketchbook. “I know what this pitiful office has to do to survive getting axed. We need to sex up the company’s campaign.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very sexy.”
“Nonsense.” She took in Amelie’s proper black slacks and white dress shirt. Office attire. “You just…need to let your mind wander. When you think about shoes and sex, what comes up?”
Amelie winced. “Incompatible?”
“Really?” Rachel rather enjoyed wearing shoes to bed with a lover. “What comes up are long, sexy legs ending in fuck-me pumps, kicking the air as her lover licks her skin, mapping out her erogenous zones.”
“Wow,” Amelie said on a gasp.
Right. Wow. She was still flying high from last night. Did it show? She didn’t care. For the first time in months, confidence had returned to soar through her veins.
“I need to get back to work.” To focus the high she was feeling on business before it got her in trouble. “Hold my calls. And, I’ll be working late to hash out the campaign. I’d…like to incorporate your ideas, Amelie. Would you mind?”
“Mind?” Amelie squealed, pressing the sketchbook to her chest. “I’d be honored!”
“Excellent. And do see if you can get solid information from headquarters about our visiting bigwig.”
