Off the Clock

by Roni Loren

  And it was so working for Marin.

  She found herself squeezing her thighs together, the throbbing ache between them almost unbearable. She’d gone through this night after night listening to these tapes, but this one seemed to be pushing her buttons even harder, the taboo topic and danger of it tapping into some reckless part of her. And all the emotion from earlier with Donovan channeled into the fantasy as she pictured him in the role of the man, her in the role of the captive.

  Her body thrummed as the scene unfolded in her head, every part of her going sensitive, primed. Like one touch and she’d go off. She tried to stave off the desire, clamping her hands around the arms of the chair and breathing through the rush. But finally, as the man in the tape brought the woman to another orgasm using harsh fingers and filthy words, Marin couldn’t take it anymore and parted her knees. There was so much tension in her—from the crappy day, from her conversation with Donovan, and from this unmet desire she’d been fighting with all week. She couldn’t resist anymore. She needed the oblivion, some kind of release from it all. The air of the room felt cool on her inner thighs and she pressed a hand over the throbbing part of her through her shorts, giving just enough pressure to offer some relief.

  She let out a soft gasp and slowly rocked her hand against herself, the simple move sending sharp, electric currents racing through her, making everything go heavy and tight. Her breasts felt fuller, her blood hotter, her pulse louder. Guilt weighed on her. Part of her knew she shouldn’t be doing this. She didn’t deserve this pleasure tonight. But the freight train was already chugging down the hill with no brakes. She dragged her fingers over the cotton of her shorts, trying to be discreet but not gentle.

  Before long, she was so swept up in it and so close to falling over the edge that she didn’t hear the knock on her door when it came. She didn’t know she was no longer alone, that someone was watching. Then the earbuds were yanked out of her ears.

  She nearly leapt out of her seat. Her hand flew away from her shorts and gripped the arm of the chair. The scent of clean soap and whiskey cascaded over her. Donovan.

  “Mari?”

  3

  Then

  Marin’s fingers went white against the chair arm. Please, please, don’t let him have seen what I was doing. The prayer was desperate, yearning. “Shit. You scared me half to death.”

  She couldn’t turn around. Not yet. She was afraid the desire would show all over her face. She’d been seconds from orgasm. Her body screamed in protest, air soughing through her lungs as she tried to reel it all in and look cool and collected.

  “I called your name and you didn’t hear me.” His voice was there again, close, but not on a recording this time. His breath was hot against her hair as he loomed behind her.

  “Did you need something?” Her voice came out way too breathless, like rubber bands had been wrapped around her windpipe.

  He was quiet for a few long seconds. “Are you . . .”

  No. No. No. Her head started to shake.

  “Mari . . . I saw.” The words were simple. Final. A guillotine.

  Hope shattered into little fragments at her feet, raining down into a pool of humiliation. She switched into offense mode.

  “Look, I caught you turned on once. Now you caught me. The script works. Hurrah. Make a note. Can we be grown-ups about it now?” She hoped the words sounded confident and brash even though she was trembling inside.

  He was silent behind her.

  “Did. You. Need. Something?” Her question came out sharp, pointed.

  “I was bringing you something to drink. You forgot to take a soda with you.”

  Be a grown-up, be a grown-up. She forced herself to swivel her chair around, to look unaffected. She took the Dr Pepper from him and set it on the desk. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

  His gaze rolled over her, a slow, seeking perusal. Something dark and tense glinted in his eyes. “You didn’t get to finish.”

  “I’m fine,” she bit out.

  “You’re out of breath and . . .” His focus shifted down her body. “And wet.”

  She glanced down. Saw the telltale spot announcing how turned on she was through the thin cotton of her shorts. Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Mortification like none she’d ever experienced bled through her. Her thighs snapped together. “Can you please not make this worse with your analytics? Just let me be embarrassed in peace.”

  His blue eyes met hers, the tired resignation from earlier gone and replaced with something she’d never seen before from him—intent. “Let me help.”

  “What?”

  “I made you a promise to keep things professional. I’ll keep that promise if you want me to.” He reached down and took the hand she’d been using on herself in his. He traced his thumb over her fingertips, setting the sensitive pads on fire. “But I fucking want you.”

  Marin’s lips parted. He could’ve punched her in the face and she would’ve been less shocked.

  “This week has been like the slowest, most painful kind of torture.” His voice was like a hypnotic song as he held her gaze. “When you drop off the files at the end of the night, you’re flushed and glassy-eyed. I can see how keyed up you are. I can almost scent it in the air.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do you know what that does to me? Knowing you’re turned on by my words? My fantasies? And now to walk in and see you touching yourself over them? Fuck.”

  Marin was too stunned to speak.

  “I get hard every time I think about you.”

  And she could see that, right there in front of her. That thing between his thighs getting more and more obvious as they spoke. She swallowed, his words and the sight like a lit match to the fuel flowing through her. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” He pulled her up to her feet but didn’t break eye contact. “All the fantasies I wrote this week, guess who I was casting in the role in my head? Guess whose face I imagined? Whose body? I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”

  She had no idea what to say. She could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth.

  “But I’m not going to pressure you. I’m just letting you know that if you want my help. If you’d rather it be me getting you off than your fingers, you just need to say the word.”

  Her head was exploding. Bombs going off. Rockets launching. Everything inside her activating at once. She tried to form some sort of cogent response. But nothing came out.

  “So tell me to go away, Mari,” he said softly.

  She shook her head slowly. Once. Twice.

  He stepped closer. “Tell me.”

  It didn’t sound like a request. It sounded like a dare.

  That’s when she kissed him. She had no idea where the upswell of bravery came from, but she grabbed his face and pressed her mouth to his like she knew what the hell she was doing. He stiffened under her touch at first, his whole body going rigid, but then she let her tongue graze his lips—a plea—and he groaned into her mouth, opening to the kiss and grabbing her waist with those long-fingered hands.

  The first touch of their tongues was like a lightning strike, loud and powerful and blinding. Her brain buzzed with the impact of it, and she almost lost her rhythm. But then he took control of the kiss with an urgent fervor that made her moan, like he was a dying man and she was the sole owner of the last oxygen on earth. His fingers curled into her sides and his tongue dipped deeper into her mouth, exploring and mapping and tasting. Goose bumps chased tingles over her skin and she pressed herself closer, feeling the heat of his body, the pounding of his heart, the desperation of it all.

  She’d imagined this so many times—what’d he’d feel like, what he’d taste like, how’d he kiss. She’d spent hours putting those fantasies together. She hadn’t even been close to matching the reality. There was an intensity she couldn’t have conjured up in her own mind, this raging need. She half expected their clothes to light up and burn right off of their bodies. Everything was on fire. She couldn’t stop. This was like a firs
t taste of a drug, hooking her immediately and making her crave more. Her fingers slid into his hair. That luscious thick hair that she wanted to nuzzle and tug and feel against her naked body.

  She made a needy sound, one she didn’t even recognize, and the kiss went deeper, lewd in the best way. He yanked her fully against him. His erection notched right along the spot where she’d been touching a few minutes before and sparks skated over her skin. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself shamelessly against him, her body going on some version of erotic autopilot.

  He groaned and backed her up against the desk. His mouth attacked her neck, planting hot, wet kisses there, sucking, nipping. “You taste so good. I’ve wanted . . .”

  She tilted her head back, giving him better access and not caring that he didn’t finish the sentence. She knew how he felt. She wanted, too.

  “Tell me to slow down, baby,” he said as he dragged the hard length of himself against her. “It’s been a fucked-up day and you feel so good. But I don’t want to push you too far.”

  “I don’t want to slow down.”

  He pulled back for a second and took her face in his hands, his gaze fierce. “Tell me it’s okay.”

  “It’s okay. It’s so okay.”

  He stared at her for a moment longer and then his hands slid back, his fingers catching in her hair, and he bent and kissed her again. She reached for him, latching on to his shirt like a desperate thing, and pulled him even closer to her. Her body was already revved up, but now she felt as if she would incinerate from the inside out if he didn’t touch her soon.

  A low rumble escaped him as she grappled for him, and he slid his other hand down her hip while deepening the kiss. Her butt was pressed hard against the edge of her desk and when he gripped the back of her thigh, she damn near melted into his hold. He lifted her onto the desk, various office supply jetsam going overboard along with the soft drink, and she wrapped her legs around him. His fingers on her bare legs sent another wave of heat rippling over her.

  “Donovan.” His name was a prayer between kisses. “Donovan. I need . . .”

  “I know, baby. I know. Me, too.” He kissed her throat. “I’ll take care of you.”

  His hand slid up her shirt, his hot palm finding the curve of her breast. She arched when his thumb grazed her nipple, and she grabbed for the edge of the desk, sending a canister of paper clips tumbling to the floor. “God.”

  He made a hungry sound in the back of his throat as he unhooked the front latch on her bra and cupped her naked skin. “Is that what you need, beautiful? I can feel how on edge you are. It’s so fucking sexy. Your whole body is trembling.”

  She arched her back, a riot of sensations tracking over her. “I’ve been listening to you talk dirty for the last twenty minutes. The last week. I can’t help it.”

  “Mmm. I love that my voice got you off.” He kissed the spot beneath her ear. “And I love that you’re wet for me.”

  It was like one of the fantasies on the recording times about a thousand. His breath against her ear, his hands on her, that silken voice threading through her senses. She let herself slip into the fantasy version of herself, the one who wasn’t scared, the one who knew what she wanted and could be bold about it. The one who was not a terrified virgin. “I’ve wanted this all week.” Longer.

  The sound he made was one of pained restraint. He leaned back and went for the button on her shorts. “I was going to take my time with you. I was going to be slow and gentle. But I’m not sure if I have it in me tonight.”

  “Sounds like one of those failed fantasies from your experiment.”

  He laughed and dragged the zipper down on her shorts. “You’re right. Lose the shorts and spread your legs for me. Let me feel you.”

  The words ripped over her like an electric current. She lifted her hips and shimmied her shorts down. They fell to the ground among a pile of documents and data she’d been entering. Seeing them lying there was surreal. She was on top of her desk in her panties with Donovan West. Maybe she’d fallen asleep in class and was going to wake up any minute now.

  But when Donovan pushed the thin fabric of her underwear aside and stroked nimble fingers through her slick cleft, she knew she wasn’t dreaming. Her dreams had never felt like this, this whole body rush of sensation. She moaned against the touch.

  “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.” He dragged firm fingertips over her clit and she whimpered. “Have you been like this every night you’ve left me?”

  She closed her eyes, embarrassment trying to take over, her cheeks going hot. “Donovan.”

  “Tell me.”

  She rolled her lips together and nodded.

  “I’m such a stupid, stupid man. I’ve been keeping myself on a leash when we could’ve been doing this every night.”

  He found her entrance and pushed a finger inside. She gasped at the intrusion. She’d done this to herself before, but feeling the rough-tipped, thick finger inside her was an entirely different experience.

  He pressed his forehead to hers as he worked his finger inside her. “Relax for me, baby. You feel amazing, but you’re so tense. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.”

  She tried to take a breath, knowing that what he was feeling wasn’t completely due to tension, but when he worked a second finger inside her and pressed his thumb to her clit, her vision blurred around the edges. “Oh, God.”

  “That’s it. Trust me to make you feel good.” He leaned close to her ear. “I’m between your spread legs . . .”

  She groaned loud. The recording voice. He was going to narrate for her. She’d never survive it.

  “You’re so wet for me and my fingers are deep in your pussy. You’re clenching around me, begging for me to be inside you.”

  Sweat trickled down her back. She was aflame. “Donovan.”

  “My cock is hard for you, and I can’t wait to fuck you across this desk. I’ve been thinking about this moment for a week now. I’ve stroked myself to thoughts of you. I’ve come in my hands in that office down the hall while you were in here working.”

  Holy shit. Visions of his fist around his cock flashed through her head like a pornographic montage.

  “But I want to hear you go over first. I want you to take what you need. Come for me, Mari.”

  She didn’t need the instruction. It was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not. Starbursts bloomed behind her eyelids and she fell forward, bracing herself with her head on his shoulder as the orgasm steamrolled her. She cried out, too far gone to form words.

  He palmed the back of her head, holding her against him and whispering her name, as his other hand worked between her legs. She was spasming and shuddering and gasping, but she didn’t have any room for embarrassment. There was safety in his hold, freedom.

  And when he finally moved a hand away and she could drag in a breath, he cupped her face and lifted it to him so that he could kiss her again. All of his need poured into it. She could feel it flowing off of him and infiltrating every part of her. And even though she’d just had the most intense orgasm of her life, greedy desire demanded more. She needed him. Wanted him inside her, taking what she’d never given to anyone else.

  She broke away from the kiss, panting. “Please, Donovan.”

  When his eyes met hers, there was so much heat there she was surprised he didn’t leave burn scars on her. “Turn around and bend over the desk.”

  The look on her face must’ve shown her shock because he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “If we had a bed, I’d want to watch your face when I slide into you. But right now this desk is going to be more comfortable for you this way.” He smiled, a wicked edge to it. “Plus, I’ve been imagining bending you over mine for a week now.”

  A hard shudder went through her, and she turned around. He tugged down her panties, tossed them aside, and then put a hand to her back, guiding her down to the desk. The exposure made her want to take cover. She’d had guys touch her during make-out sessions but never had she been o
n blatant display like this. There was no place to hide. But when she heard his groan of appreciation, the fear of being seen so intimately melted away. He couldn’t fake that kind of interest.

  And she knew her first time was supposed to be sweet and romantic. That’s what the books she’d read and the movies she’d watched told her. But this felt dirty and illicit in the best possible way. It’s how she’d pictured things with him. Explicit. Taboo. Daring. She’d listened to Donovan’s words at this desk, had simmered with unmet need for hours. Now he’d give her the real thing where she’d weaved so much fantasy.

  She pressed her cheek to the cool surface of the desk, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Donovan coasted his hand over her hip and she froze. “Wait.”

  His hand instantly stilled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Condom.”

  He let out a breath. “Oh, thank God. I thought you wanted me to stop. I’ve got us covered. Or me covered as the case may be.”

  “Well, someone was sure of himself.”

  He dipped his hands between her thighs and stroked. “No, I keep them in my wallet like a good Boy Scout. I promise this wasn’t the plan. The plan tonight was to drink the night away—not to fuck a smart, beautiful girl over her desk in the esteemed psychology department. This is a way better plan.”

  She shivered, anticipation and nerves washing over her. She wished she could see him behind her. She’d imagined him naked many times, and now she wasn’t going to get the chance to see the real thing. But the second he parted her legs and nudged the head of his cock against her entrance, all other thoughts dissipated. Every molecule in her body centered on that one spot of connection.

  Fear washed through her—cold and quick. This would probably hurt. She tried to brace for it.