Flashes of Me

by Cynthia Sax

  “I do.” Henley lowers his head and our lips meet, mesh, his breath wafting over my skin. I open to him and he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth, his impatience matching mine. He cups my ass with his hands, pressing my mons into the ridge in his dress pants.

  Henley tastes of coffee and aroused man. I cling to his cloth-covered shoulders and suck on his tongue. Each tug of my lips drains more tension from his body, his muscles relaxing under my fingertips.

  I laugh, exhilarated by his response. “You need me, Henley.”

  “Yes, I need you, kitten.” He lifts me off the carpet and spins me in a circle. The images on the screens blur into dazzling streams of color, an electronic rainbow painting the walls. I fling my arms back, embracing this experience with everything I have, trusting Henley to hold me, to keep me safe. We spin faster and faster and joy bubbles up my chest, escaping my lips in bursts of laughter.

  Henley smiles and slows, his dark gaze fixed on my face, his eyes filled with wonder. He slides me along his big body until my feet touch the carpet and we stand, pressed together, staring at each other for several heart-twisting moments.

  “Come.” Henley grabs my hand and leads me behind his desk. He settles into his black leather chair and pulls me onto his lap, his body vibrating with excitement. “I’ll show you what I watched last night.” He changes the feed on his personal screens, zooming in on our images.

  I’m lying on the stack of flattened cardboard boxes in the shredding room. My lavender blazer is open and my pale breasts are bare. Golden curls are tousled around my smiling face. My pale blue eyes are wide. Henley looms above me, his huge form clad in black, his shoulders broad.

  “We look good together.” I wiggle my ass against Henley’s groin, our contrasts exciting me.

  Henley wraps one of his massive arms around me, forcing me to remain still, controlling me, controlling my body. “Fran’s right,” he murmurs in my ear, his lips pressed against my skin. “You’re beauty and I’m your beast.”

  “You’re not a beast.” I rest my hands on his arm, watching him ravish me. “You’re magnificent.” Henley sips the coffee I brought him and watches us also. He splays his fingers over my blazer-covered stomach, his cock pressing against my ass.

  In the images my cheeks are flushed, my mouth is open, and my eyes are unfocused, my body undulating under his. I’ve never seen myself like this: wanton, needy, a wild sexual creature. Is this how Henley views me?

  “Did you touch yourself as you watched us together?” I tilt back my head and kiss his square jaw, his freshly shaven skin smooth. “Did it excite you?”

  “Yes.” He brushes my curls away from my face, his fingers rough, his touch gentle. “There are cameras in here. Only I have access to the feed.”

  “Hmmm . . .” I press one of my palms against the ridge in his pants, feeling the length and girth of him. He’s large, incredibly large. “Can you put that feed on all of the screens?” I stroke him through the fabric. “I want to watch as I suck you.”

  Henley taps one of the keyboards and the images change, reflecting the interior of the office, the screens acting as mirrors on the walls.

  “That’s sexy.” I slip off his lap and stride in front of his desk. Henley watches me, his eyes darkening. I undo my belt, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the buckle.

  “My blazer has to go.” I unbutton it slowly, spreading the fabric, revealing more and more of my skin. With two sensual rolls of my shoulders, the garment drops. I catch the yellow fabric before it hits the carpet and toss it to Henley. He folds my blazer carefully and sets it on his desk.

  “Should I remove my bra?” I skim my hands over the white silk cups, teasing my breasts with my fingertips, and my nipples tighten. “It would look good covered with your cum.” I pivot, swaying my hips to the sexy music playing in my mind.

  “Remove it.” Henley’s voice deepens.

  I reach behind me, arching my back, and fumble with the clasp, my excitement making me clumsy. Henley leans forward, flattening his palms on the desk, his eyes as dark as a starless night. I undo the bra, freeing my breasts, and lob the scrap of silk to him. He places the bra on top of my blazer, his scarred fingers lingering over the soft fabric.

  I turn toward him, holding my breasts, clad in my skirt, panties, heels, and dainty white gloves. My image is displayed on the screens, every curve, every inch of my pale skin captured on the feed. I slide my hands lower, revealing my pink nipples, and Henley sucks in his breath, his involuntary response pleasing me.

  “Remove your skirt,” he orders.

  “Should I remove my shoes also?” I lift one of my knees and run my hands up my bare leg from ankle to thigh.

  Henley’s gaze tracks the movement and his jaw clenches. “Leave them on, kitten.”

  “They are sexy shoes.” I smile knowingly at him as I unzip my skirt. The fabric clings to my hips. I shimmy and my skirt falls to the floor, revealing the naughtiest, most revealing panties I own. Thin white ribbons hold a tiny triangle of silk in place.

  Sweat beads on Henley’s forehead. I step forward, turn until I’m facing away from him, and bend over slowly, picking up my skirt, giving him a full view of my bare ass cheeks, the G-string sliding between my curves.

  Henley groans, the sound thrilling me. I control him, this man other people fear and respect. I’m strong, powerful, feminine, and he’s defenseless against me.

  I fling the skirt at him and he catches it, folds the fabric, adds it to his collection, his gaze not moving from my body. His full attention is on me as I play with the ribbons tied at my hips, teasing him, taunting him.

  “Should I remove my panties?” My voice grows husky with desire.

  “They stay on.” Henley moves forward, stands in front of his desk, his feet braced apart and his arms crossed, appearing large and menacing, his stance moistening my pussy. He’s fully dressed in his serious black suit and dress shirt, and I’m nearly naked, clad in white panties, heels, and gloves.

  “Kneel before me,” he commands, his tone allowing no disobedience.

  My legs quiver as I sink to my knees before him, the carpet soft against my skin. I look up at him, the ridge in his pants tantalizingly close to my face, and wait for his next set of instructions, wanting to please him.

  “Such an obedient kitten.” The approval in Henley’s voice gives me joy, boosting my confidence. “Take out my cock.”

  My fingers shake as I unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, nudging him to the side. I tug his pants down to his knees, freeing his cock, my primitive man not believing in underwear. He’s thick and hard and mine. I wrap my glove-covered fingers around his base, his black curls tickling my fingers, his shaft hot through the lace, his veins pulsing under my fingertips.

  His chest rumbles and I meet his gaze. Henley’s eyes glimmer, his lips flat and his expression strained.

  “Watch me, Henley.” I stroke my hands up and down his shaft, savoring the feel of him. “Watch me touch you.”

  A dab of pre-cum forms on his tip. I swipe my thumb over him, spreading his glistening essence, and he bobs in my hand.

  “These are my gloved fingers on your skin.” I work him, a sense of awe filling my chest. He’s so big, so powerful. I cup his balls, rolling them in my fingers, and his thighs tremble. I do this, make this strong man tremble.

  I glance at one of the screens to the left. Next to Henley, I appear as dainty and as fine as my cute little gloves, the lights making my blond hair glow. I’m curves, pale skin, pink nipples, my heels tucked under my ass. He’s a wall of muscle, tanned skin, coarse black hair and intriguing silver scars. “We’re beautiful together.”

  “Yes,” he breathes. His gaze is fixed on my face. “Take off your gloves, kitten. I need to feel you.” He holds out his hand.

  I peel off my gloves, place them in his scarred hand, and curve my palms around his cock, stroking him with both hands. “This is much better.” I smile up at him, relishing this intimate task. He’s at his most vu
lnerable, unclothed and unprotected, his cock resembling the softest silk over the hardest steel, and he’s trusting me not to harm him, expecting me to please him, to bring him to the point of release and beyond.

  I grasp his hips with my fingers and flick my tongue over his cock head, tasting him, and he shudders. I like his taste, his flavor consisting of salt and musk and something else I can’t describe. I lick him, lave his tip, poke my tongue into his slit.

  “Yes, kitten.” My gloves fall soundlessly to the floor and Henley threads his fingers through my curls. “Suck me with your pretty pink mouth.”

  I part my lips and he pushes into my mouth. I swirl my tongue over his rim and his grip on my hair intensifies, his hands twisting in my curls. I take more and more and more of him, gliding my lips over his shaft, until his cock head taps the back of my throat.

  I can’t fit in all of him and I gaze up at him, disappointed, my mouth full of his thick cock. “You’re beautiful,” Henley assures me, his eyes glowing. A trickle of perspiration drips down one of his tanned cheeks.

  I cover his remaining shaft with my fingers. He guides me up and down his cock, rocking into my mouth, his balls swinging against my chin. I learn his rhythm, grow more confident with my abilities, find my own power.

  Outside his office, Henley’s employees are working, monitoring entryways, resetting passwords, answering calls. They don’t know their boss, the executive they fear and respect, is fucking my mouth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, in front of the cameras, our images reflected on the screens.

  Henley drives into me with an intimidating force. Only my fingers prevent him from thrusting too deep, from savaging my throat. He doesn’t allow me the option of retreating, holding me to him. All I can do is surge forward, meeting him halfway.

  Henley’s grunts echo in the room. I moan, the sound muffled by his shaft. Skin smacks against skin. He twists my hair around his fingers and pulls. Pinpricks of pain shoot across my scalp, escalating my desire.

  My restrained, responsible man has lost his renowned control and I love it. I clutch his ass cheeks, digging my fingernails into his firm flesh, marking him, claiming him. He’s mine, all mine.

  “Yes.” Henley moves faster, pistoning his hips back and forth. “Yes.” I increase my suction, my cheeks aching and my lips humming. “Please, kitten.” He’s asking me for something. I don’t know what.

  I gaze up at him, seeking his guidance, and my teeth skim along his shaft.

  “Yes,” he bellows, lunging forward. Hot jets of cum shoot down my battered throat. I swallow and suck, draining every ounce from him, accepting everything he gives me.

  “Kitten.” Henley pumps his hips once, twice more, shudders and collapses, plummeting toward the floor. His knees thud against the carpet and he falls forward, toppling me over, flattening me.

  I grit my teeth, swallowing my squeak of surprise, and wrap my arms around his big form, holding him as he shakes. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’m here. I have you.” I rub his suit-covered back with my fingers and cradle his hips between my legs, seeking to comfort my behemoth. My chest fills with pride. I did this. I brought my big man to his knees. Henley shifts his weight over me and I smile against his shoulder.

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  MOMENTS PASS. HENLEY’S breathing levels and his shoulders lower. A small smile of satisfaction curls his lips, making him appear younger, almost boyish.

  “Thank you, kitten.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and stands, pulling me upright with him, the air cool on my bare skin. “We should get dressed. You’ll be late for work.” He tugs his pants upward, fastens them, and then hands me my clothes as I dress, helping me zip my skirt, button my blazer, buckle my belt.

  My cute little gloves have gone missing. I don’t search too hard for them, as I can’t wear them. They’re stained yellow with his pre-cum.

  Henley cups my chin, raising my gaze to his. His eyes glow. “You’re beautiful.” He tucks a curl behind my ear. “And I am a beast. We shouldn’t have rushed this.”

  A wave of insecurity rolls over me. “Didn’t I please you?” I clasp my purse tightly.

  “You pleased me very much, too much.” His voice lowers. “I want to spend the day with you, but that’s not possible. You belong to Yen during working hours.” He opens the door. “And she’s . . . intense.”

  “And you’re not intense?” I ask as I exit. Heads turn toward us, the glass offices now filled with employees. They watch as we walk along the hallway, my hand cradled in one of Henley’s big palms.

  “I’m intense also.” He unlocks the door to the reception area.

  “I like your intensity.” I sweep through the door. Grant sits at his station, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Good morning, Grant.” I wave at him. “We tested the cameras in the shredding room last night.” Henley groans and presses the button for the elevator.

  Grant laughs. “You certainly did, Miss Kat. They’re working.”

  “I’m glad.” I stand by Henley, my fingers linked with his. “Security is important.” The elevator doors open.

  Henley squeezes my hand and releases me. “Don’t encourage him.” He meets my gaze, holding it until the doors close between us, severing our connection.

  He’ll watch me, I know. I glance up at the elevator’s camera and smile. He could be watching me right now, his big body relaxed and sated, his cock soft.

  I exit the elevator and wander through the legal department, wishing everyone I see a cheery good morning. Camille’s eyes widen as she sees me. She’s wearing the same cheap black suit she wore yesterday. “You do want to get fired, Purple.”

  “Today, I’m Yellow,” I announce with a grin, setting my purse on my desk.

  My new friend shakes her head, her green hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “The dragon lady wants to see us, Yellow, and she’s not happy.”

  My smile wavers. I don’t want to make anyone unhappy. “Remember, I’m taking total responsibility for the stairwell incident,” I remind Camille. “We have to keep our stories straight.”

  “Yes. Yes. It’s your turn.” Camille moves closer to me and lowers her volume from ear splitting to mildly deafening. “Speaking of stories, I heard one about you and Mr. Henley, about how you did the nasty in the shredding room.” She nudges me with her bony elbow. “He’s a big guy. I’m surprised you can walk this morning.”

  I search Camille’s face for signs of jealousy. Her eyes glitter with humor, her expression almost gleeful. For some insane reason she doesn’t want Henley. My grin widens. “All I’ll confirm is that there are cameras everywhere.”

  Camille laughs and heads turn toward us. “That’s good information to know.” She stomps beside me as we walk to Miss Yen’s office. “What about the rumor about men and the size of their shoes?”

  “That rumor is also true,” I reply. All of Henley’s parts are as huge as his feet. Camille hoots with laughter and a thin-lipped lady hisses at us. I smother a giggle and knock on Miss Yen’s door.

  “Enter,” she barks, her tone curt. I open the door and peer cautiously inside the office. She’s standing with one of her hands on her hip and a phone cradled against her ear, her black suit clinging to her slender body.

  “No.” Our boss ignores us. “We’re not giving them that information. Due diligence is done on the company being bought, not on the purchasing company.” She taps her toes on the soft carpet, her five-inch heels sleek and stylish. “They wouldn’t be willing to lower their selling price if they weren’t using the information in some way.” Miss Yen’s gaze flicks to me and she scowls. “I don’t know. Figure it out.” She slams the phone down on her desk.

  Miss Yen’s office is similar to Henley’s except that locked filing cabinets line the walls and vertical blinds cover the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s only one screen in the room and it’s set on her desk, facing away from us.

  “Purple, what did I tell you about your suits?” Miss Yen’s l
ips twist.

  “You told me not to wear the lavender suit again,” I answer. “This suit is yellow, Miss Yen.”

  She glares at me. I stare back at her, maintaining a serene smile and a blank expression. “Lord help us all,” she mutters. “Sit.” She waves at her guest chairs.

  As I’m taking responsibility for our adventures in the stairwell and will likely be in the office the longest, I choose the chair farthest from the door. I sit, cross my feet primly at the ankles, and rest my hands on my lap. Camille plunks into the chair beside me, her ass smacking against the seat.

  Miss Yen paces behind her desk, moving back and forth, back and forth. “I’ve been informed of the stairwell incident. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

  Camille looks at me.

  “It was all my idea, Miss Yen,” I chirp, continuing to play the dumb blonde. “Taking the stairs is good for the glutes. Men like perky rears.”

  A strangled sound comes from Miss Yen. “They also like breasts, which I understand you flashed, Yellow.”

  “I didn’t know the cameras were functional.” I smile.

  “And why would that make any difference?” Miss Yen shakes her head as though trying to clear it. “Never mind.” She sits down. “I don’t want to know. Both of you are to review the employee handbook and stay out of the stairwells. Green, go back to your desk.” Camille hops out of her seat. I rise also. “Yellow, you stay.” I lower myself once more. Camille gives me a pitying look as she rushes out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

  Miss Yen gazes at me. I gaze back. Silence stretches.

  She takes a deep breath. “When I was your age, I had huge student loans. I was pretty and a rich man took an interest in me. I thought he was kind. He wasn’t.” Miss Yen touches the long thin scar on her cheek. “By the time I figured that out, he had isolated me, separating me from my friends, from my family. I was trapped.”

  Unable to maintain my airhead façade, I stare at her, horrified. “How did you get away from him?”