He grinned, all white teeth and wickedness. “Yes, I am.” He reached out, clamped onto her chin, drew her closer. “But there’s something else I’ve been itching for.”
“What?” She matched his soft voice. The touch of his hand immobilized her. His scent mesmerized her, not sweet, not spicy, something earthy and erotic, calling to her.
Then he bent his head and took her mouth. They did so little kissing that she parted her lips with surprise rather than desire. He delved deep, and God, he was sweet in her mouth. She grabbed his arms to steady herself as he took her. Then he bound her to him with an arm at her waist, angling his head, taking the kiss deeper. Lola spiraled down into him, where the only things that existed were his arms around her, the heat of his body, and his heady taste taking her to heaven.
By the time he set her back on her feet, she was dizzy, and he was so close that she saw two of him.
“Did you wear them?”
She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. He morphed back into one Gray. “Wear what?”
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, hit a couple of buttons, and held up the screen for her to see. “These panties.”
Oh. The ones she’d sent him the photo of. “Yes.”
She had no clue why she’d worn the thong today. She’d dressed in a circumspect business skirt and a utilitarian white bra beneath a plain white blouse. And the sheer black thong with that sexy little ruffle. Because it made her think of him.
He backed off to lean against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. “Let me see them.”
The door was locked. So Lola raised her skirt.
He perused her with lids at half-mast; all she could really see were his black lashes, slightly longer than a man’s had a right to be.
“Exceptionally nice. Much better on your delectable body than in the picture.”
They were sexy as hell, better than anything else in her drawer, with the flirty little ruffle just above her bottom, the see-through triangle of lace in front. Sexy and totally feminine.
He raised his eyes to hers, a fire burning in their depths. “Do you know what they make me want to do?”
She shook her head, that heated look stealing her breath.
His lips curved in a slow smile. “Then I’ll show you.”
In a move so quick, she startled, he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her high and walked her to the conference table. Her sandals slipped off, and with her skirt bunched at her waist, the wood was cold on her bare bottom.
She managed to find her voice. “I thought you were going to spank me.” The moment the words were out, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to speak when they were in a punishment session, a rule she forgot most of the time, and so did he.
He obviously didn’t care about the infraction this time either. “If you hadn’t worn those panties, I would have spanked you. Lean back on your hands.”
She did. It was so damn hot to be ordered to do something. Maybe it was the whole alpha male thing. A woman wanted her man strong and commanding.
He spread her legs, stepped between them. “Look at you,” he drawled. “That pretty, trimmed pussy barely hidden by your dainty little panty.” He rested his hands on her thighs, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Touch yourself for me. Through the panty.”
She bit her lip, breathed in deeply, her nostrils flaring. Then she slid her fingers over her mound, teasing him with the slow move. The material was soft beneath her touch. She traced her nether lips.
“Yes. Just like that. Make yourself feel good for me.”
His eyes on her, the hooded gaze, his total concentration, that’s what made it good for her. She loved the way he had sex. It wasn’t just a little kissing, a little fondling, then down to business. He savored every touch. He made each individual act an event in itself. He made her feel sexy, special, desirable, seductive, all the words she would never have applied to herself.
His fingers tightened on her thighs. “Does that feel good, baby?”
“You know it does.” The soft caress, the slow build.
He glanced up, eyes dark. “Better than a spanking?”
“Different. Not better, not worse. Spanking is fast and hard and cataclysmic. You take me so high so fast that I’m just nerve endings, sensation.”
He put his hand over hers, made her rub herself a tad harder, a beat faster. “But this is slow seduction.”
“Yes.”
He hooked a chair leg with his foot and pulled it closer, then sat in front of her, hands on her inner thighs. “Make yourself come. I need to see.” Knocking her hand away, he peeled aside the crotch of the thong. “Jesus, that’s gorgeous.”
He leaned in quickly, blew warm breath on her. It was like adding cornstarch to a hot sauce, everything thickened and tightened inside her. The muscles of her thighs bunched.
“Now make yourself come,” he demanded.
“Why don’t you do it for me?”
He raised just his eyes, shadowing them with his lashes. “Because watching makes me hot. Because I can see every subtle change in your body. I can see exactly how you do it, what makes you feel the best. And because it’s dirtier if you do it to yourself.”
She liked his touch on the panty, holding it for her, as if they were doing this together. And she loved his words, the way he thought, his kinkiness, no inhibitions, no right and wrong.
She slipped her middle finger down the moist flesh and circled her clitoris.
“You’re so damn wet. I can see the little jewels of moisture.” He leaned in to flick his tongue across her labia.
Oh God. It was electric. Her buttocks clenched in reaction and her finger flew faster.
“Yeah, baby, that’s it.”
Raising her feet, she planted them on his thighs, let her legs fall open, then tipped her head back. Delving finger-deep inside herself, she came back to circle and massage with more of her own cream. So good.
Then she opened her eyes, looked at him. “Put your fingers in me at the same time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, easing two fingers inside, stroking her G-spot slowly.
“Oh God.” She arched her neck, shot out a breath, moaned.
“Come now, baby.”
With the fast thrum of her finger on her clitoris and his slow, smooth glide inside her, her body rushed to the precipice. A kernel of heat burst out, grew, then exploded, racing along every nerve ending.
She did not cry out, but bore the bucking of her hips silently, her teeth clamped on her lower lip. When it was over, she sagged back flat on the table.
He put his mouth to her, and this time she did cry out, softly, before she choked off the sound. He took her with that slow pump of fingers inside her, his tongue swirling over her sensitized flesh, and she did a high dive into climax all over again, jerking against him even as he held her down with both hands on her thighs.
Lord, it was never-ending. She put both palms over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Then he was there, hunched over her, his body blanketing hers, his lips half an inch away, tempting and seductive with her juice on them.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice harsh.
She loved the kissing, God, she loved it, because it was so rare with him. She took his mouth, savored the uniquely male taste mixed with her salty-sweet come. A delicious combination. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she went for a long, deep foray.
It wasn’t nearly enough when he backed away, standing straight. He held up a condom packet. “I want to fuck you right here. I want the scent of you on this table so that in every meeting, I’m reminded of this, and with every subordinate seated here, I can think of how I fucked you right on this spot, took you, made you scream. And my body will burn from the inside out.” The heat of his gaze set her on fire.
This wasn’t punishment anymore. It wasn’t submission. It was ownership. She grabbed the condom and ripped it open, then held it out, making her own demand. “Put it on. N
ow.”
He didn’t bother to unbuckle, simply unzipped, pulled out his cock.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
He stopped mid-action.
“You’re so big.” And beautiful. Hard, thick, the crown shiny and purple with desire, a drop of pre-come pearling.
“You’ve seen me. You’ve sucked me before.”
She wrapped her fist around him. “But this is so different. This is the big CEO taking me in his office. Throwing company policy to the winds. Your secretary guarding the outer sanctum while you have your wicked way with your dirty, slutty little slave.” She squeezed, stroked to his tip and back down. Impossibly, he seemed to swell in her hand.
He was still, his breath puffing, his gaze lasering her. “Christ. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Yes, in this moment, she did. In this moment, she had all the power. More even than when she held him in her mouth.
“Fuck me, Coach,” she whispered. “Make me take every inch.” She squeezed once more, then released her hand one finger at a time.
“I will fuck you blind and make you scream for more.” He rolled on the condom at light speed, grabbed her hips, and plunged, as if all in one motion.
Lola arched, gasped, raised her arms and curled her fingers around the opposite edge of the table. Gray leaned over her, bracing himself with his hands right next to her. He watched her face as he withdrew slowly, slid deep again with equal slowness.
She panted, the slow inexorable glide of his body over her G-spot making her body quake.
“Holy hell,” he uttered on a breath, his eyes closing. “Do you know how that feels?”
“Do it again,” she begged.
He took her with an exquisitely measured pace, his body flexing, driving deep, slipping away, coming back to do it all over again. It was enough to drive a sane woman completely mad, especially coupled with the high of being in his office. Anyone could suddenly knock at the door. His secretary could buzz him with an urgent call. Maybe someone had a key.
“Yes. Please.” She raised her legs and locked her ankles at the base of his spine, trapped him in the center of her body. Then she contracted her muscles around him.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re killing me.” Anchoring her head in his hands, he increased the tempo with each new thrust. His eyes blazed. For her. With need of her.
He wore all his clothes, even his suit jacket. His tie hung down, the collar of his shirt tight along the cords of his neck. It was complete decadence, taking him like this, in this place.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “I’m your slut. You ordered me here. Fuck me. Take me. Make me do every dirty thing you want.” She was crazy. She didn’t care.
His face reddened, his skin turned hot. He swallowed, then pounded her hard. The table creaked and wobbled. Harsh, panting breaths echoed in the room. Moans, groans, hers, his, and his soft chant of “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and just as before, everything came down to sensation, his breath across her cheeks, her parched throat, heated skin, the scrape of his clothing, the hardness of the wood against her back, and the rigid cock beating, pulsing, throbbing inside her.
She cried out, clutched him with her arms, her legs, her tight body, and came apart. It was so good, she would never be able to put herself back together again in quite the same way as she’d been before.
17
HE’D LOST HIS BREATH. HE’D LOST HIS MIND. HE COULDN’T MOVE. And he didn’t care.
He’d never had sex in his office. He’d always wanted to, but no woman had been right for it. Lola was perfect. She made reality better than fantasy.
“I screamed,” she said softly.
His face was buried in the crook of her shoulder, the fruity scent of her hair tantalizing. His cock throbbed. Leaning over her, the position was awkward, but Gray didn’t care about that either. He realized it wasn’t that he couldn’t move, but that he didn’t want to.
He also didn’t care about the executive staff meeting he was ten minutes late for or the phone calls he had to make, or about his customers, his suppliers, his employees. There was just Lola and this moment.
“Mindy might have heard,” he said, referring to his secretary. Though Lola’s cry hadn’t been as loud as a scream, there was still the possibility they’d been overheard, and the idea made him pulse anew. A proclamation. His stamp of ownership.
“I didn’t mean to,” Lola said. He felt her voice against him and inside him.
“You couldn’t help yourself.” God, yes, that was good. That’s how he wanted her, totally lost to everything but him. Just as he was lost to everything but her.
“Are you going to get fired?”
He laughed. There was a rule against sex on the premises. He’d violated it. But Mindy wasn’t likely to tell. Of course, if he made a habit of it . . . but he wouldn’t. Some things should be done only once or they lost their impact. He couldn’t duplicate what they’d just created.
There would be other moments, potent yet different.
After allowing himself several more indescribable seconds, he finally pulled away from her, straightened. She lay deliciously debauched on the table, hair in disarray, nipples peaked against the white blouse, skirt around her hips, pussy wet with her climax, his cock still in her. He burned the sight to the inside of his eyelids.
“Do you know how good you look?” He heard the awe in his voice and didn’t care about that either.
“No.”
“Da Vinci. Botticelli.” Magnificent.
He held his hands out, and when she grabbed on to him, he hauled her up until they were chest to chest. Then he tangled his fingers in her hair and licked the seam of her lips. She opened. He caressed her tongue with the tip of his. The kiss was so damn sweet, his heart turned over. He didn’t kiss her enough. He was always so busy with her body.
Pulling away, she licked her lips as if she needed one last taste of him. “I like you inside me.”
He loved it. He didn’t want to leave her. Still cupping her head, he said, “I like the feel of you around me.”
“You planned this, didn’t you? You had a condom.”
He grinned. “Hell, yes, I planned it. I lay awake long into the night thinking about it.” He rubbed her nose with his. “But it was even better than I imagined.”
“Good.”
Then he had no excuse to stay inside her. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
His body ached, having to leave her, to lose her. He disposed of the condom and the package—what would his janitors think when they emptied his trash?—then returned to her. She still wore the delicate thong. He smoothed it back in place. Lola shivered.
He put his hands to the hem of her skirt. “Lift.” And he pulled it down, straightening it over her thighs. “Do you have a comb?”
“I left it in my car.”
He used his fingers to untangle the silky locks, holding hanks of it close to her scalp so it wouldn’t pull.
“There,” he whispered when he was done. “Good as new.” Hands at her waist, he hoisted her up and onto her feet.
She stood a long moment just looking at him, her gaze roaming his face. “That wasn’t punishment.”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t believe it was.”
They were beyond punishment. They’d moved into something else entirely.
* * *
LOLA WAS SLEEPWALKING. SUDDENLY SHE WAS AT HER CAR without truly knowing how she got there. Okay, okay, she remembered sliding her feet into her sandals, Gray unlocking the office door, opening it, ushering her out. She remembered the studious bent of his secretary’s head as she pointedly ignored them, obviously having heard something more than Lola taking dictation. She remembered those things, but they were all dreamlike.
Retrieving the car key from her pocket, she chirped the alarm. The locks popped up.
She’d never had sex like that. No man had ever made her cry out when she knew she absolutely could not, should
not. She was hooked, obsessed, crazy, totally in over her head.
And she was almost sure he was, too.
That was dangerous. It was no longer punishment. They didn’t need excuses. All he had to do was call her up and order her to come to him. She’d drop everything and go. It didn’t matter what kind of work she had to do. It didn’t matter what prior plans she’d made.
Was this sexual addiction? Or addiction to Gray?
Lola started the engine. The dash clock flashed the time at her. She’d lost an hour. A whole hour. How could he have made her come for an entire hour? Yet that’s how it seemed, her body simply riding from peak to peak. He was some sort of magician. Or a hypnotist. Or just all male. She couldn’t afford this kind of addiction. Addiction was need, and need led to heartbreak.
She’d been on her way somewhere when he called. Oh yeah, she had to go to the plant. She needed to see Robinson. Then she had to find George.
Lola rested her forehead on the steering wheel. God. George. She so did not want to tackle the issue now. She wanted to savor that amazing hour with Gray. She couldn’t lose it yet. There hadn’t been any messages since that phone call on Friday. Maybe he was over it. Maybe she didn’t need to say anything at all. Or maybe it was the twins and George had nothing to do with it.
She heard the voice of reason in her head saying that a problem only got bigger when you ignored it.
But when she got to the freeway, her car turned in the opposite direction, back home. She didn’t have to see Robinson. She could call. In fact, she could do it now.
He answered on her second ring. “Hello, Paul Robinson here.”
She liked his formality and knowing immediately that she was talking to the right person. “It’s Lola, Paul. Did you get the files?” At this point, she had the document in separate files. She would collate them later when she was ready to do the table of contents.
“Yeah. But we’ve got problems.”
“What?” Dammit, she should have called him from home so she could take notes. She tapped the brake as she closed in on a slow car in front of her. Changing freeway lanes now would distract her from whatever Paul said.
The Naughty Corner Page 15
