by Fiona Zedde
She leaned over the drafting table, cursing Alonzo and every hair on top of his stupid, pointy head. It was almost nine o’clock and she was finished. Finally. The mock-ups were neat, clearly presented, and ready for the client’s closest scrutiny. She dared Alonzo to find something to criticize about the presentation.
To her surprise, he’d come back into the office a few minutes past eight, talking loudly on his cell phone. The few people who’d been working when Renee moved to the drafting room were long gone, so until Alonzo had come back it was just her in the office, slightly warm now since the a/c had turned itself off at six o’clock.
Hands settled on her hips from behind and she jumped. Anger flared in her belly.
“If you think this is funny, Alonzo—!” But the hands wouldn’t let her turn around. She tensed to elbow her boss in the belly but a familiar scent washed over her. Gun oil. Mint. The outdoors. Firm thighs pressed against hers and her arm fell slackly back to her side.
“Shh,” her lover urged unnecessarily.
Renee shuddered. Heat, immediate and undeniable, replaced the anger in her belly. Her head swam with the swift shift in emotion and she sagged against him. Just like that, her panties were soaking wet.
“What are you doing here?” She hated that her voice trembled. And she knew, just like he must have known too, that it was from excitement. And fear.
Instead of answering her question, he pushed his hips against hers again and she felt him hot and hard, rising against her backside. I’m here for you, his body said.
But how did you find me here? She was stiff and unresponsive, needing an answer to the question, even as inside she was melting to the slow movement of his hips against hers. At last, he seemed to understand. She felt him shift behind her, then a small piece of rectangle landed on the table bearing some of her weight. A business card. Hers.
But where had she…?
His tongue stroked her ear and she trembled. That’s not enough of an answer for you? he seemed to ask. Insanely, it was. Her body loosened against him, relaxed enough to push back against his maleness.
“I’m not alone here. There’s at least”—she gasped—“one other person.” But he was pushing her past the point of caring. Alonzo’s office was far down the hall and around the corner. That wasn’t close enough for him to hear. Right?
He kissed behind her ear, down the side of her neck, stubble rough against her skin. Breathing low and deep, he licked her throat and she opened up for him like a sprung jewelry box. Renee moaned. Then bit her lip at the thought that someone might hear.
Purposefully, his fingertips brushed her thighs, lifting up her skirt. He kissed the back of her neck and her head fell forward, arms still braced against the table. Cool air brushed against her ass and she was abruptly glad of the sudden urge from the morning to put on the lace panties, white, that came halfway down her cheeks, the rounded globes of brown skin peeking enticingly through the lace. At least that’s what she’d thought when she looked at herself in the mirror and imagined him looking at her, wanting her.
He groaned low in his throat. His big hand palmed her bottom, slid down between her thighs, pushed her legs apart. His breath fanned against her behind, hot through the lace. He tongued her through the lace. She gasped, cocking her butt in the air to give him more to taste. He chuckled against her, pressing his mouth into the lace, his tongue finding her wet and ready for him. She bit her lip against rising moans as he slid his tongue past the panties, between her swollen lips, lapping at her up-tilted femininity while his hands played with her swollen clit. She pushed back even more into his face, lips parted, eyes closed.
Pleasure fizzed through her, sparkled in her veins as if she were a shaken bottle of Perrier. He eased a finger just inside and she bit her lip, swamped in the delight of his big body, his agile tongue at her rear entrance, probing. Eager for more, she pushed back against him, but he withdrew. As always, he never rushed.
His fingers sank into the skin of her bottom. She felt each print clearly as he lifted her, parted her to his gaze. The crotch of the panties slid between her soaked lips, rubbing against her clit. Renee bit back a moan. The air moved behind her. He must have stood up. She clenched her eyes tightly shut to feel even more of him.
His belt. His zipper. His—ah!
The crinkle of plastic. His heavy maleness at her entrance.
“Yes,” she gasped and pushed back to take him inside her.
But he held her still. Brushed the head of his hardness against the panties and her dripping heat.
“Please.” A gasp. He gripped her hips and shoved into her. And his pulse was inside her. Her pulse around him.
“Yes.” She swallowed. “Yes.”
The edge of the table bit into her palms, a ratcheting pain. She pushed back into him; he pulled back, shoved into her again, firmly connecting his flesh with her flesh. It was like someone had replaced her blood with molasses. Every part of her ran hot and sweet.
“Oh!”
He touched her clit, circling and caressing it in time with his thrusts. Renee bit her lip against the sounds spilling from her lips. He moved deeper, firmer, but did not speed up. She sobbed quietly. Her grip tightened on the table as tears of heightened desire pricked her lids.
“More!” she gasped softly.
His laughter vibrated against her neck.
He gave her more. His hips moved faster, maleness pounding firmly into her, his fingers moving slickly over her clit, sliding over the excited flesh, delving under the hood where she was most sensitive. He grunted with each slam of his body inside hers. His fingers squeezed her nipple through the thin shirt and bra.
A flash of heat roared through Renee, lashing her hips, into her core, radiating up to her breasts, into her nipples. The tight pain in her nipples made her cry out.
“Oh!” Ohmyohmyohmyohmy!
“I’m going to tell her to do that. It shouldn’t be a big difference in cost, right?”
Renee jerked at the alien voice. It came closer, saying something else.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit! “That’s my boss!”
Panicked sweat exploded on her skin. She tried to pull away from her lover. Or at least she thought she did, only her body pushed back into him again, desperately trying to hold on to the shimmering heat beginning to slip away.
“My boss is coming!” she gasped.
But her lover didn’t slow down, he didn’t stop. He covered her mouth with his hand and she gasped, inhaling the scent of her own body in his big palm.
She clenched hard around him. He made a low noise, cupping her breasts, kneading them, squeezing her nipples as he moved inside her, leisurely, firmly like they had all night and Alonzo wasn’t coming down the hallway. Coming closer.
“Please,” she gasped softly. Not knowing if she was asking him to stop or to finish what he started. She bit his palm hard. He bucked inside her. She clutched around him again, excitement and panic fighting inside her body. He moved faster, fingers strumming her clit. And she was gasping quietly again. The fire lashed her again. And she was trembling, trembling, trembling where she stood, orgasm shaking her like a tree caught in a hurricane.
She felt him too. He shuddered inside her with his face buried in the back of her neck. In apology, Renee licked his palm that was still over her mouth. He released her and stepped back, pulling his body from hers. Renee sagged against the table, her knees weak, eyes tightly shut. But quickly, with shaking fingers, she tugged her skirt back down, smoothed it, and rebuttoned her blouse. She swallowed thickly. Pleasure sang a lower note inside her body now, but it was no less sweet.
She did not turn to look at her lover.
“Just the woman I was looking for.” Alonzo’s voice boomed from the doorway.
Renee whirled to face him. Incredibly, she had forgotten about him. He looked at her in surprise.
“Your lipstick is smudged.”
Renee’s eyes flickered around the room. Where is he?
She clea
red her throat and deliberately slowed her breathing. “Did you”—see a half-naked man run out of here when my back was turned?—“want something? I’m finished with the proposal and I was just about to put it on your desk and go home.”
Alonzo walked deeper into the room, then paused as he drew closer to her. His eyes held a question in them, studying her more closely.
He smells the sex in here, she thought.
Before he could say anything, she turned her back to him, gathering her originals. “I’ve already sent scanned copies of my sketches to you. Look them over tonight if you like, but I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”
“But I have a—”
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly, then, with her sketches tucked under her arm, turned and left the office. Smiling.
Chapter 27
Mayson climbed out of the car with a groan and a long, vertebrae-popping stretch. It had been a long day at the studio. Long and worthwhile. But still her body ached from being pushed to its limits—four evening classes back to back plus an hour in the pool swimming laps until her body vibrated with exhaustion. Her hair, loose and still damp from her shower, lay heavily against her neck and down her back. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she walked into the house from the garage. A yawn nearly unhinged her jaw.
“I won’t do this shit again,” she muttered.
Exhaustion dragged at her body like lead weights. Thoughts of pulling her clothes off piece by piece, of the cool sheets, the pillow that would cradle her head, paraded behind her eyes like a luscious fantasy.
She locked the door to the garage and turned to head upstairs. A broad beam of light swept through her front windows, briefly illuminating her living room—the sofa, the pale walls, her hand on the banister. A car door slammed.
Who the hell?
She made it to the front door in time to hear the doorbell ring. Through the peephole, she saw Kendra on the front step, arms crossed, looking impatiently to the right, then to the left.
“What’s up?” Mayson asked when she opened the door to Kendra’s glad smile.
“Nothing. I thought I might stop by and see if you feel like some company tonight.”
Mayson stared at her. “Kendra, it’s late. I just got home from work.”
Her smile disappeared. “Are you saying you don’t want to see me?”
Where is this coming from? I thought this was supposed to be a casual thing.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you, but I’m really tired.” Even saying the words felt like too much effort. “I’ve had a long day and I have another one tomorrow.”
“But we can just cuddle. You’ll barely know I’m there.” Kendra stepped closer, her smile reappearing.
Suddenly Mayson noticed the overnight bag at the other woman’s feet. Okay. No.
“Not tonight, baby. I wish you had called first and saved yourself the trouble.” She shoved the hair out of her eyes. “There’s a lot I have to do early tomorrow. Maybe we can do something this weekend.” Mayson made sure to put emphasis on the maybe. “I’ll call you later in the week, okay?”
Kendra turned kohl-ringed eyes up at her, lashes heavy with disappointment. “Are you sure? I brought my own toothbrush.”
Mayson shook her head. “I’ll call you later.”
Grudgingly, Kendra picked up her bag. “Okay. Go inside and get some rest.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and cocked her hip like she was packing something dangerous. “Rest up for when I get you to myself again.” She leaned in and Mayson allowed the kiss, a quick disconnection of lips. “Later.”
Inwardly, Mayson cringed. But she nodded and stepped back from the door, locked it, and turned on the alarm. Okay, she thought, watching from behind the curtains as Kendra drove away. That was different. She pressed her forehead against the cool window frame for a moment. The curtain fell from her hand and back across the window as the exhaustion descended more firmly on her.
She tiredly climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, dropped her bag on the floor, and stripped off every stitch of clothing. The bed was just as good as she’d imagined. Firm, cool, and undemanding. Mayson closed her eyes.
An insistent ringing at her ear pulled Mayson out of a deep and luxurious sleep. The cell phone. Her hand fumbled for it on the bedside table.
“This better be good,” she croaked.
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
Mayson sat up, sleep instantly forgotten. “Did something happen?” The dim light on the radio announced that it was well past midnight. “Are you okay?”
A forced laugh came to her from the other end of the line. “I will be when you let me in.”
She tried to clear her throat of its worry. “Use your key. The alarm is on. I’m in the bedroom.”
“Alone?”
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
“Shut up and quit playing with me. Are you alone or not?”
“Bring your ass up here, girl. There’s nobody in this bed but me tonight.” Mayson scrubbed a hand through her loose hair and hung up the phone. She reached over to snap on the bedside lamp.
By the time Renee walked through her bedroom door, she was awake enough to drag on a T-shirt and boxers.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Renee still wore her work clothes, a skirt and matching jacket and a lavender blouse underneath. But they were badly wrinkled, like she’d thrown them in a corner and stepped on them before carelessly pulling them back on a long while later. Deep pink color suffused her swollen lips. Renee kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed beside Mayson.
With the dim light from the small bedside lamp spilling over their linked fingers and the touch of Renee’s shoulder against hers in the bed, it was like they were little girls again sharing their secrets at a sleepover. But Mayson could smell the sex on her.
“Have you ever had an experience that scared you?” She shook her head quickly when Mayson opened her mouth. “Not because of what some other person did, but what you’ve done?” Renee’s voice was a low, ragged whisper.
“No, I haven’t.”
Pressed against her side, Renee shivered.
“Is it one of these men? Did something happen?”
Renee raised her large brown eyes to Mayson. There was still innocence in them, but a yearning for something else that they had only just recently seen.
“I’ve always been boring—no!” She raised her hand before Mayson could deny it. “But I never minded. I didn’t care that I wanted a lover and the house and someone to drink hot chocolate and watch sunsets with. I was okay with being that ordinary. But after Linc I got soured on all that.” She shook her head. “Now, I want something different. And with this ad that I’ve put out there, I’m getting it.” A small smile shaped Renee’s lips for a moment. “It’s been nice.” Her hand convulsively gripped Mayson’s. “There’s this one, he feels so dangerous to me, so bad—”
Mayson’s heart began to thud in her chest. Her hand on Renee’s tightened. “Did he do something to you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She blinked. And fat tears dripped from her eyes. “It’s me. I’ve become this sex-obsessed person. Anything he asks me to do, I do it.”
Mayson breathed a deep sigh of relief as she let go of the images of a madman wielding a whip at a terrified Renee. “Oh, honey, I think that’s natural. You’re just growing as a sexual being. It’s okay.”
Renee looked at her with wide, dawning eyes. “You can’t even imagine the things—” Then she looked away. “Maybe you can.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think I’m so naive, even though I’ve been married before.”
Tears fell on the back of Renee’s hand, darkening the skin. Mayson rubbed at the moisture with her thumb, tracing the veins under her friend’s delicate skin. “I’m not saying that I know what the full range of sexuality is, but as long as it’s consensual and safe, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Mayson raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m dying to ask what you’ve do
ne but I’m not sure my poor little heart could take the details.”
Renee’s smile emerged slowly from behind the veil of tears. “Jesus, Mayson. If you think what I’m doing is normal then I—”
“Don’t go there, honey.” Mayson relaxed in the bed, slowly unwinding her tense limbs in relief. She shoved the heavy fall of wavy hair from her face, tucking it behind her neck. “We both know you’ve always been a prude—which has always been somewhat of a relief, to tell you the truth. I’ve never had to go back to Dana Point and lie to your parents after finding you in a crack house with some trick’s pus-swollen dick up your ass.”
“Ew!” Renee choked on outraged laughter. She shoved not-so-gently at Mayson until they were giggling and rocking back and forth in the queen-size bed.
“You really think it’s normal?” Renee asked when she could talk again without succumbing to an attack of the giggles.
“Well”—Mayson smiled—“until you tell me exactly what you and this stud are doing”—she waggled her eyebrows—“I can’t be too sure.” She dipped her head close. “Whisper it in my ear.”
At first she didn’t think Renee was going to say anything, then she felt the brush of her best friend’s lips against her ear. Smelled again that scent of old sex and new excitement on Renee’s skin. The almond oil from her hair.
“He put his tongue in my…behind.”
Mayson’s eyebrow rose again. Pretty bold for a straight man. And a stranger to her ass at that. “Hm, I think I like this guy already.”
They both chuckled, leaning into each other, again like little girls sharing their secrets at a sleepover.
Chapter 28
Mayson held the Downward-Facing Dog asana, emptying her mind deliberately of the extra matter threatening to distance her from her body. But the fluid feel of her body, the muscles stretched and pulled tight until that perfect ache sang through them, couldn’t fully take away the thoughts of her conversation with Renee two nights before. As they had talked, everything seemed fine. She was there for Renee in the old ways, just like her friend was always there for her, but as the hours passed, regret swam to the surface of her feelings. Now, days later, Mayson found her thoughts returning to those hours with Renee. Even as she’d comforted and teased and reassured, jealousy twisted like a fanged snake in her belly. It was troubling. Irritating.
