Mardi Gras
Lacey Alexander
Mia Sanderson has been in love with her boss, Ty Brewer, for years, but ladies’ man Ty only sees her as a friend and even worse, a good girl. So when Mia and Ty are invited to the same Mardi Gras party, Mia decides to live out a fantasy. Donning a Mardi Gras mask and wig, Mia masquerades as the seductive Mistress Mina, the bad girl of Ty’s dreams. But what will happen if Ty discovers her true identity? Mia’s risking their friendship and her job, but for a night with Ty, it’s worth it.
Publisher’s Note: Originally published in the Behind the Mask anthology.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Mardi Gras
ISBN 9781419925818
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Mardi Gras Copyright© 2005 Lacey Alexander
Edited by Mary Moran
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication 2005
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
MARDI GRAS
Lacey Alexander
Mardi Gras
Chapter One
“Morning, sweet thing.”
As the plate glass door fell shut behind her boss, Mia Sanderson looked up in time to see him whisk past her desk, into his office. She smiled too late, he was already gone.
“Morning, Ty,” she called after him anyway.
Oh well, it didn’t matter. None of the other smiles she’d flashed his way over the past few years had suddenly seduced him, so she was reasonably certain today’s wouldn’t have held the magic ingredient, either.
If you only knew, she thought, peering lustily toward his office door. If you only knew how badly I want you. From his handsome face, his dimpled chin covered with just a bit of brown stubble, to the sandy blond hair that usually needed a trim but still looked perfect on him, to the well-built, slightly muscular body that looked as if it had been made to pleasure a woman—Ty Brewer was everything Mia desired in a man.
As for his daily endearment, sadly, he’d been calling her “sweet thing” since she was thirteen. He’d been a freshman at Tulane at the time, and he sometimes came home with her older brother, Tim, in the evening or on weekends. It didn’t mean any more now than it had then—and hell, it had probably meant more then, now that she thought about it. At least then he’d seen something in her—something cute maybe, something worthy, something that had earned her a little playful flirtation despite the difference in their ages.
Now the nickname and the wink that sometimes came with it were both habits, she supposed. She was sure he had no idea how she gobbled up the silly, playful words every morning, or how his wink turned her lace panties wet. Ty was a friendly guy, teasing and flirtatious, especially with women he knew well. And given that he’d known Mia for—God!—eighteen years now, it only stood to reason he’d flirt a little.
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Although the realization of just how long they’d been acquainted was sobering, making her slump in her desk chair. It wasn’t as if they’d been in constant contact all that time, of course, but she had been working for Ty for five years now, which pretty much indicated that “sweet thing” meant…nothing. Because if she knew anything about Ty at all, it was that he didn’t hesitate to go after what he wanted—in business or in pleasure. And he’d never gone after her.
Letting out a sigh, she peeked toward his door once more and began to imagine a different scenario. Her breasts felt heavy and her pussy slightly swollen as she envisioned herself being a much bolder sort of woman…
“Morning, sweet thing.”
She flashed him a sexy smile, then reached out, curling one finger toward her in a motion that summoned him closer. “Come here. I have something to show you.” In the fantasy, the words left her in a silky, sassy tone she’d never really used and didn’t know if she even possessed.
Rounding the front counter and the desk situated behind it, Ty gave his head a playful tilt that said he was intrigued.
She stood up, revealing a short skirt and a black see-through blouse with a lacy bra underneath. Not that she would ever wear anything like that to work—if she even owned it—but this was a fantasy, so she pressed on.
“Nice,” he said of the outfit, raking his gaze from her shoulders to her knees.
“Thanks, but that’s not what I need to show you.” He raised his sandy-colored eyebrows in anticipation. “I’m all eyes, sweet thing. What have you got for me?”
She gave a teasing pout and glanced downward. “I hope you won’t be upset.”
“Well, let’s find out.”
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Mardi Gras
Reaching down, she hooked one finger into the slit on the skirt and drew it slowly upward until her pussy was on display. “I forgot to put on my panties this morning. Very unprofessional of me. I hope you aren’t angry.” When she lifted her gaze back to his, fresh heat burned in his eyes. Her nipples turned to tiny bullets against her bra.
“Not angry,” Ty said, a slow, sexy grin growing on his face. “But there are consequences for girls who forget their undies when going to work.” She lifted one fingernail to her lip in faux worry. “What are they?”
“Well,” he said, his voice going lower as he stepped up to slide his hands smoothly over her hips, “it’s a known fact that if you forget your panties, your boss is going to fuck you.” Mia bit her lip, her body flushing with warmth. Glancing down, she could even see the reaction to her hot fantasy—her nipples had hardened not only in her imagination, but also in reality, now jutting through her bra and fitted yellow blouse.
She glanced again toward Ty’s office. Do you ever notice them? Do you know they’re like that for you? Then she sighed. Or does it only make you think I’m chilled, despite that we live in one of the hottest cities in the country?
She shook her head, then decided there was no reason not to sink back into her fantasy, especially since she’d just gotten to the good part.
“Kiss me,” she said.
No. That was too tame. It was fine for the more romantic daydreams she sometimes indulged in, but today’s imaginings were all about heat, so she changed it to “Fuck me.” Then she eased her ass onto her desk, parting her legs for him to step in between. As he worked to undo the buttons on her thin blouse, she reached for the snap on his jeans.
God, she loved it when Ty wore jeans. He ran a totally casual workplace, and most days found him in long, baggy shorts, but colder winter weather often brought out his blue jeans, and fortunately, the air outside was brisk today. She’d noticed the worn denim even in just the short glimpse of him she’d caught. She adored the way
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molded lightly to his butt, and in front, to his sexy bulge. And speaking of sexy bulges…
Bending to kiss her, he pushed her blouse open, then lowered her bra straps from her shoulders so that the lace cups drooped enough for her breasts to tumble free. As he closed his hands over them, she finally got his jeans unzipped and spread wide, reaching in to pull out his big, hard cock.
“Oh, fuck me, Ty,” she said again, more urgently this time. Then she shared the truth with him. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
His smile was warm, happily surprised. “Well, why didn’t you say so, baby?” Grabbing onto her ass, he curled his hands around her flesh, firm and sure, and drove his stiff shaft into her—wonderfully deep.
“Mmm,” she purred without quite meaning to.
“You say something, Mia?” Ty’s voice sounded from within his office.
She flinched. “Um, no. Just…talking to myself.”
Ty chuckled softly at her—that was the easy sort of relationship they had—then the office fell quiet again…
And he was in her again. Thrusting in smooth strokes, each one packed with pleasure. Mia closed her eyes. She was unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his chest, then pressing her bared, sensitive breasts warm against him.
“You feel so good, baby,” he was murmuring in her ear, low and sweet. “Why haven’t we been doing this all along?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered up to him, “but it was definitely worth the wait.”
“I want to make you come,” he said, sliding his hands further around her ass and lifting her up off the desk. “I want to make you scream for me, sweet thing.” And, of course, he knew exactly the right angle at which to hold her and exactly when to slow his thrusts as she writhed against him, approaching climax. “Soon, lover,” she cooed. “Very soon.”
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Mardi Gras
“Now,” he demanded so harshly it stunned her—and set her skin to tingling in a whole new way as he stared into her eyes, insisting on her orgasm.
Oh yes, she could feel it gathering, getting closer and closer, climbing higher, higher, escalated by his rough command, and by his eyes, his sexy, sexy eyes, until—”Oh!” she cried out as it overcame her—the hot, almost violent spasms of release rushed through her like a river of fire, and she bucked against him, riding it out, as he murmured, “That’s right, baby, that’s right.
Keep coming. You’re coming so good for me, sweet thing, so fucking good.” The trill of the phone sent her leaping from her seat as if someone had just stuck a tack in her butt. “Jeez!” she squealed, then pulled herself together and snatched up the receiver. “Bourbon Street Messengers.”
“Hey Mia, it’s Brad. Is Ty in yet?”
Their tax guy. It was that time of year. “Sure. Hang on.” She pushed the hold button, then called, “Ty—Brad on one.”
She could feel Ty’s grin as he said, “Uh, you okay out there?”
“Fine, thanks,” she lied, cheerful but short. She was sweating profusely from the fantasy, and from the shock of being jarred back to reality.
Then came his familiar chuckle. “After five years of answering the phones here, I wouldn’t think it would scare you so much.”
And after five years of me mooning at you constantly, I’d think you’d notice by now.
But then again, maybe he had noticed, and just wasn’t interested. She was Tim’s little sister, after all, and she was pretty sure Ty wouldn’t ever think of her in any other way. Which meant all her sweating was for naught.
Even now, she couldn’t help recalling instances of his brotherly affection. Although he had no qualms about dating every wild woman in their wild city, he was always quick to give his opinion if he thought she was dating someone who wasn’t good enough for her, or who “seems a little rough for you, sweet thing”, or “has one too many tattoos, if you ask me”.
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It always made her laugh, precisely because everyone knew Ty was no angel, yet he assumed she was, and he seemed to like her that way.
But those rough guys with tattoos, it turned out, were more her type than she’d even known, and they’d taught her quite a bit about fun, and sex. She might not own a see-through blouse, and she might not have ever left her apartment without panties, but on the inside, she definitely hovered on the edge of being a bad girl.
Ty would never believe it, of course. He’d probably have a heart attack if he found out. The truth was, she supposed, that they’d just known each other too long. He had certain ideas about who she was, what she was about—ideas that had been true for a very long time—but what he didn’t realize was that she’d grown up. For God’s sake, she was thirty-one years old.
Yet Ty, she knew, still saw the silly, playful teenager she’d once been, the girl who was good for some laughs and a little harmless flirtation. And she guessed he also now saw her as a competent receptionist and accountant—she was pretty much his Girl Friday at the bicycle messenger service situated in the heart of the French Quarter, where bike traffic often moved a lot quicker than vehicles. But when it came to sex, she was certain he thought she was a much nicer girl than she actually was, not to mention a much nicer girl than she wanted to be. And that was definitely her loss.
Just then, the front door opened again, admitting Ty’s best friend, Jack Wade. Jack ran a P.I. business just a couple of blocks away. “Hey there, Mia.”
“Hey,” she returned with a smile. She’d known Jack nearly as long as Ty, since they’d both hung out with Tim back in college. Jack’s dark good looks complemented Ty’s sandy beach boy image perfectly. She’d even heard rumors among common friends that Jack’s recent bride, Liz, had let the two guys share her one night early in their relationship. The very thought made Mia’s pussy hum with desire.
“He in?” Jack pointed toward Ty’s office.
“On the phone,” she said, “but he shouldn’t be long.” 10
Mardi Gras
Jack lifted his elbows to the counter and leaned over. “Well, while I’m waitin’, I can tell you what I came to tell him. Liz and I are ringin’ in Mardi Gras with a big party Saturday night, and you’re invited. You bring the mask and the beads, we’ll provide the jambalaya and the alcohol. Think you can make it?” A party at Jack’s place? Where Ty would almost certainly be in attendance? It wasn’t the first such occasion—Jack liked to throw parties from time to time—but even knowing nothing new would transpire between her and her sexy boss, it was still an invitation Mia couldn’t resist.
She smiled up at Jack. “Sure. Sounds fun. What time?”
“Starts at eight.” He grinned down at her. “Liz’ll be glad you’re comin’—she thinks you’re sweet.”
Mia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Even Jack’s wife—who by all accounts had been a prim and proper lady before meeting him—thought she was sweet? She was doomed. But she forced a smile. “It’ll be nice to get to know her a little better.” Just then, they both heard Ty hang up the phone, so Jack made his way into the office.
“Well, if it isn’t the old married man come to pay me a visit,” Ty greeted him with a laugh, and Mia decided it was time she do something constructive—for the first time so far today.
Rising from her desk, she tried to ignore the slight swell of her cunt as she leaned in the office door. “Ty—Dan and Annie are out on early runs, but Bobby’s not here yet and there’s a delivery due at Jackson Square by ten. Since it’s quiet, I’m going to walk it down there before it’s late.”
Her boss nodded. “Thanks for taking up the slack for him, sweet thing. You’re the best,” he concluded with a wink, and as usual, her pussy surged.
* * * * *
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“You ever think about settlin’ down, gettin’ married?” Jack asked in response to Ty’s greeting.
Ty drew back with a slight laugh. Up until a year or so ago, th
at question wouldn’t even have appeared on Jack’s radar screen. But marriage had changed his best friend—
at least in some ways. “Me?” he asked. “No way, compadre.”
“Come on now, ami, it’s not like I got the plague or somethin’. In fact, you well know what I got—a beautiful, sensual woman who loves to fuck as much as I do. Not exactly a life sentence or anything.”
Oh yeah, Ty knew what Jack had in Liz, all right. And if he could find a girl like Liz—well, who knew, maybe the “M” word wouldn’t sound so terrible. But as it was, he just didn’t think it was in the cards for him.
“Besides, you’re gettin’ just as old—just as fast—as me,” Jack added.
True enough. He’d just turned thirty-six. Hard to believe, given that his libido felt like it belonged to a kid of nineteen, but he knew his mother and sisters back home in Michigan had just about given up on getting him married off. Which was just as well, the way he saw it. “You know how it is with me and women,” Ty replied.
Jack leaned back slightly, quirking a grin. “No, ami—how exactly is it?” Ty put his feet up on his desk, stretching out as well. “I know a lot of women who like to fuck and who do it damn well. But I’ve yet to meet one who…” How to explain?
“…has anything more to offer.”
Jack blinked. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Just that I never have any trouble connecting with chicks sexually, but in my experience, girls who like to party aren’t girls who make me feel…well, anything more than a stiff dick.”
Jack tilted his head. “I thought that once, too, but then Liz walked through my door and changed everything. Just takes findin’ the right one is all.” 12
Mardi Gras
Ty gave his head a shake. “You got lucky, but that doesn’t mean there’s a Liz for every guy. The girls I meet are either a hundred percent cute and sweet, or a hundred percent down and dirty. I can’t live without the down and dirty, so I have to live without the cute and sweet.”
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