by Maria Amor
“Th-they are?” she asked, finally realizing the last thing he had said. Her throat felt so tight, her blood was rushing to her face, down to her feet, back up to her brain. Alex smiled slowly, his bright blue eyes darkening slightly, the intent on his face unmistakable.
“They are indeed. No one will disturb us until I take the light off my door.”
Daphne chewed her bottom lip, wondering why her mouth was so dry, why her palms were clammy, and her feet tingling and remote. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She had been with guys before; she knew she was attractive enough, and she’d never wanted for company when she felt like having it.
But there was something about Alexander’s matter-of-fact way of telling her that she was attractive, that he had pegged her for the type of woman who would never let him get away with a one-night stand. The fact that he had pointed out to her that she already had his phone number, that he couldn’t avoid her, that his office was private as any apartment could be.
“You’re not going to use this as an excuse to get me off of your case, are you?” Daphne asked. She grabbed at the half-empty bottle of water and took a long sip. Alexander’s bright eyes glinted with amusement and something deeper—an appreciation of sorts that she couldn’t quite figure out..
“Do you ever do anything without thinking of your career?” he asked with a chuckle.
Daphne shook her head. She always put her career first; that was the secret to the success she had already managed to achieve. Boyfriends, friends, everything but family—they were all secondary to the higher need of her ambition.
“I promise you—I’ll give you a signed, written statement if you want—that our personal relationship and our professional relationship will have nothing to do with each other.”
“Our—you want a personal relationship with me?” she asked, uncertainty coating her tone.
Alexander nodded slowly. “Since you won’t just sleep with me and have done with it, I might as well agree to see you regularly.”
Daphne wasn’t sure how much she liked the air of resignation, the matter-of-fact tone in his voice. “Well if you don’t want to see me regularly, we might as well not even do this,” Daphne said, not entirely sure of what she was referring to. Alexander closed the distance between them, and Daphne gripped the arm of her chair compulsively.
Her body was hot from head to toe; she couldn’t deny that Alexander was attractive. She couldn’t deny that in spite of her shock at his declaration of attraction to her, she was already beginning to feel turned on by the novelty of the situation. Her insides tightened convulsively as he shifted slightly, her eyes taking in the lean muscle of his body, the stubble on his face.
“Oh, I want to,” Alex said, his voice dropping lower, the sound almost a caress. “Stand up, Daphne,” he added. Before she could consciously decide whether or not she was willing to go through with what Alexander was suggesting, Daphne found herself standing up and putting the bottle of water down numbly without looking.
Alexander’s arms coiled around her in an instant, drawing her close and pressing her body against his. Daphne heard a sound leaving her lips—somewhere between a gasp, a moan, and a surprised yelp—before Alexander leaned in and sealed her mouth with his own, kissing her quickly and hungrily. His hands came to life along the curves of her body, touching and exploring, caressing her everywhere.
Daphne moaned as hot and cold flashes of sensation tingled through her nerves, setting her on fire. It had been months since she had been with anyone; even when she had, Daphne hadn’t felt such an intense flood of arousal, making her instantly wet, in years—maybe not since her first time. Her hands trembled as she explored the planes of Alexander’s back and shoulders, his flat chest, feeling the subtle muscles of his body underneath his clothes, the heat of him; how was he so hot?
Daphne was wrapped up in the kiss, the taste of Alexander’s tongue—slightly sweet and oddly almost smoky, with the muted burn and caramel of whiskey running through—and the feeling of his lips against hers, hot and demanding.
She barely noticed the shifting of her clothes, the way her blazer fell away from her, the cooler air of the office raising goose bumps along her arms. She became aware all at once that Alexander was leading her slowly but steadily across the room, towards the couch that she had seen the few times she had been in his office but had never sat on.
He pressed her onto the soft, yielding surface and as he broke away from the kiss for just a moment, Daphne realized that his fingers were working away at the buttons along the front of her blouse, that he was undressing her. Part of her mind froze—protested—shouting that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she should put a stop to it immediately. But it was overruled by the deep-down heat that thrummed in her veins, the overpowering torrent of lust that was quickly making it impossible to think at all.
Daphne reached out, tugging Alexander’s jacket down over his shoulders, fumbling with the buttons on the blazer, eager—needy—to get him out of it. Suddenly, there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to know what he looked like naked, to feel his bare skin against hers. Alexander’s fingertips brushed against her skin as he freed one button after another, sending a thrill of electric sensation through her nerves, seemingly directly to her vagina.
He pulled the fabric free of her body, tossing it aside, and Daphne struggled to keep up, tugging and grabbing at Alexander’s blazer until it came away from his body. She let it fall to the ground and moved to the dress shirt underneath, loosening Alex’s tie and pulling it free of his neck before she began to unbutton him.
Alexander’s hands danced around to her back, and Daphne felt her bra loosen, and then fall away. Alex’s hands moved back around to her front, and Daphne gasped as his fingers closed on her nipples, twisting and rolling them, sending electric jolts of sensation that seemed to shoot directly from her breasts to her pussy, making her wetter, making her muscles tighten in reaction.
In a matter of moments, it seemed, they were both somehow naked, their hands caressing and teasing, exploring the contours of each other’s bodies. Alex pressed her onto her back, covering her, his weight oddly comforting against her hips, against her legs. Daphne was trembling all over, soaking wet and burning up—and she could tell by the simmering heat in Alexander’s skin that he was burning up too.
As his hips rocked up against hers, Daphne felt his hot, hard cock pressing against her, the tip ever so slightly damp, rubbing against her slick folds, digging into her thigh. “Tell me you want this,” Alexander said, his voice almost hoarse, ragged with desire. “If you don’t want this we’ll stop right now.” Daphne shook her head.
“If you stop right now I’ll get myself fired and never see you again,” she told him. Alex chuckled, kissing her hungrily on the lips until she was almost reeling, dropping his lips to her neck as he thrust into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch.
Daphne moaned, her muscles flexing around the thick heat of his cock, her body giving its token resistance before yielding. She draped her legs around his waist as she dragged his face back up to hers, kissing him just in time to swallow down the deep, low groan—almost a growl—that pushed up through his throat.
“God,” she said with a gasp, pushing her hips down to meet his thrusts as Alex gradually picked up the pace. “How can you feel so good?” Alex chuckled, kissing her lightly and then trailing his lips down along the column of her throat, to her collarbones, brushing against the tops of her breasts before finding her mouth again.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, breaking away to kiss along the line of her jaw, up to her ear. “So hot and so tight and god, Daphne, you feel so good.” He shifted on top of her and Daphne let out a cry as the subtle change in position made him press up against her clit, his body rubbing against the bead of nerves with every movement they made.
She was tingling all over, hot and cold flashes of pleasure crackling through every part of her body, exploding out in electric sensat
ion from her pussy. Daphne gripped Alexander tightly, every muscle tensing as he continued to plunge deeper and deeper inside of her, the pleasure in her mounting every moment.
He shifted against her again and Daphne let out a whimpering cry as the tip of his cock brushed against her g-spot, sending a jolt of sensation through her so intense that for a moment she couldn’t even tell if it was pleasant or painful. When he rubbed up against the sensitive spot along her inner walls again, it was all pleasure, shocking her and making her shake as it rocked her body.
She cried out, almost shouting, her nails digging into his back as she hit her orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her and Daphne wanted it to never end—while at the same time she was overwhelmed, moaning Alex’s name over and over again helplessly. Alex’s lips sealed hers and she was dimly aware of his climax—the sticky-slick liquid slap deep inside of her, the twitching of his cock, the tension in his body cresting for a long moment that felt like an hour.
They both sagged against the couch at almost the same moment, utterly spent, panting for breath, and Daphne closed her eyes, the haze of orgasm filling her veins with a sensation of warm, runny honey dripping through her. She thought idly that she had never been so incredibly satisfied in her entire life, the aftershocks of her climax rippling like electric spasms through every muscle, along every nerve, deep down along her bones as she drifted into a doze.
CHAPTER 3
Alexander found himself staring off into space after Daphne left, wondering at the impulse that had led him to seduce her; he smiled to himself, almost chuckling as he remembered the way she had sprung up from the couch. “Shit, shit,” she had said, running her fingers through her hair and struggling to smooth it. “How long have I been here? I was only supposed to be away for thirty minutes—forty-five at most.” Alexander had taken the opportunity of feasting his eyes on her as she picked up her clothes from the floor and began to get dressed hurriedly, looking around in a flurry of panic.
“You’re fine,” Alexander had told her, sitting up on the couch. “You don’t have any other spokespeople you’re responsible for, right?”
“No,” she had said. She slithered into her jeans and stepped into her shoes, smoothing her hair again anxiously. “But I still have to get back.” Alexander had stalled her for only a few moments longer, stopping her short of grabbing her things to give her a lingering kiss.
“Call me when you get off of work,” he had told her, smiling slowly. “You’ve got my number—you know it’s the real one.” Daphne had flashed a timorous, pleased smile and nodded, leaving in a scattered welter.
Alexander tilted his head back; he needed to get back to work—he knew he did—but the image of Daphne in his head was utterly distracting. A flash of memory in his brain brought back to him the revelation of her naked body, the way her breasts had fit perfectly against his palms, the pink-red flush that had crept across her chest, the darkening of her eyes, the way her lips had tasted. He shuddered, remembering how tight she had been, how wet and hot and utterly intoxicating. He had known in an instant that she was turned on—that she was more than ready for him, long before he had stripped her clothes off.
The shift in her pheromones had hit his nose like the scent of lilies, almost overwhelming in its potency. Her arousal had smelled sweet—rich like honey, with a subtle warm musk fragrance that had driven him nearly out of his mind. If she had told him no—if she had told him to stop—he would have pulled back immediately. His essence might be part animal, but from a young age his father had taught him that that was no excuse for animalistic behavior.
Alexander clenched his teeth, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly as he remembered the feeling of Daphne’s body wrapped around him. He had wanted to cover himself in her sweat, to keep moving inside of her forever, to mark her unmistakably as his own. He had been shocked by the intensity of his own feelings as they reached orgasm almost at the same moment, Daphne’s body tensing and flexing around him in spasms just a moment before he hit his own peak.
What is so different about Daphne? Alexander wondered. On paper, he had seen women who were more beautiful. He had slept with women who were every bit as gorgeous as she was. He had been able to put the image of them aside immediately after their trysts, had been able to forget their faces, their names, everything about them by will if not effortlessly.
But the impression he had of Daphne, fragrant and hot and thrilling to his touch, flustered and frantic, dozing in his arms in the oblivion of pleasure, lingered in his thoughts for over an hour after she left, making it nearly impossible for him to focus on the reports that had come into his email—reports that needed direct and swift action. He wondered at the fact that he had asked her to call him after she finished work for the day; he hadn’t done that before with a woman. He had carefully made sure all forms of communication were under his control—that any calls would come from him that his dates understood that he was a busy man and they couldn’t expect much. And yet he was looking forward to Daphne’s call.
Alexander shook his head, taking a deep breath to clear it. The reports from his executives were important; he had to pay attention to them, he had to understand them and act on them. It wasn’t a matter of convenience. Oberon Industrial would take a hit if he couldn’t make a decision quickly. He opened the first of the reports, taking a sip of the whiskey he had left sitting on his desk, almost ignored.
The bitter burn of it cleared his head—but he thought he would do much better with coffee instead of alcohol. He hit the call button on his phone. “Bring in my usual coffee order,” he said as soon as his assistant responded. He barely heard her affirmative.
Alex knocked back the strong, intensely sweet Cuban coffee the assistant unobtrusively brought in and left on his desk, burying himself in the reports. There was trouble from the competition; the Lasko Corporation was undercutting them in manufacturing, something that had initially seemed unimportant—but now two quarters later was starting to affect the bottom line for Oberon.
There were a few options: take the short-term hit of increased investment in advertising, explaining to the public that while Oberon’s products were more expensive, they were much more sustainable and eco-friendly than Lasko’s; cut back on costs through a small layoff and cut of overtime hours, with the expectation of maintaining productivity; or cutting back on production—which would on its own result in some layoffs, decreased overtime, lower overall pay for employees.
There was also the option of sacrificing the high standards—of being less stringent in regards to their sustainability and eco-friendliness policies.
He considered the choices in front of him. If he took on the cost of more advertising, it could correct the loss of revenue and that division of the company could improve—but it might not. The allure of a lower cost was a major drive of consumer interest, and Alex knew that as well as any executive.
There would need to be a way to bring the cost closer to the competitions—otherwise, he thought, I could advertise until everyone knew everything they possibly could about Oberon Industrial’s products to no avail. He hated the idea of cutting back on worker hours, of putting people in a position to earn less; if he cut back on staff right away, the cost to manufacture would come down and they could afford a lower sale cost.
If they cut back on production, there was the issue that while they could eliminate or cut hours for employees, they would be in a difficult position, labor-wise, when and if the products rallied—they’d need to hire again.
Finally, he thought, there was the other cost-cutting measure. If he lowered the standards, he could save a great deal of money. But the bear in him—the animal that loved the deep forest, that needed the pristine acres of trees and streams, rocky hills and valleys—disliked the expedient of following the competition into practices that would disrupt ecosystems and displace and harm animals.
Alexander started to form his opinion on the matter, taking the different projections into accoun
t. He composed an email to the executive who had sent him a report, to be acted on as quickly as possible.
“I want to make a compromise,” he wrote. “I understand that we’re going to need to cut costs. I also understand that we have to get sales up. I think if we devote an additional 25% over our current budget to advertising the products, focusing on value rather than cost, along with a few specific and targeted cuts, we’ll come through on the other side of this.”
He outlined what he wanted; he was willing to make specific compromises on the level of quality and sustainability on the manufacturing end, cutting back on oversight and sourcing of materials standards to lower cost. He also gave a maximum number of employees to either have their hours cut back or their jobs temporarily furloughed.
He outlined that if the decision came to lay off an employee, they would receive half-pay for the first three months of their layoff, as a gesture of goodwill; if their layoff lasted longer than that, they were of course welcome to seek other employment opportunities, and Oberon Industrial would fill the openings as needed.
The decision wasn’t one that Alex particularly liked, but it was one that he could live with, that made sense and at least wasn’t as devastating or foolhardy as any one of the paths alone would have potentially been. He sent off the recommendation email and plunged into his next report.
This one concerned Lasko as well—they were, according to a personnel manager—poaching talent from Oberon. Alexander shook his head; Oberon had been in competition with the Lasko Corporation for as long as he could remember, but they had never been so mercenary in their attempts to get an edge. At essence, Lasko and Oberon tackled two ends of the same markets.
In the last several months, however, Lasko had been encroaching on Oberon Industrial’s territory in as many ways as they could—increasing their manufacturing, targeting new clients, moving into areas of business they had never gone into before but which Oberon had been involved in for at least a decade. It seemed as though Lasko was actively trying specifically to hurt Oberon Industrial’s interests—not just an act of competition but almost one of corporate malice.
