“Cock.”
She slides her hand into my briefs and pulls out my stiff shaft, squeezing it at the base. Her hand feels so good around me, I have to stifle a groan.
“Now slide your leg up and open your mouth.”
She does as she’s told, sliding her bent leg up to my waist. I pull my fingers out of her cunt and push them into her mouth. She automatically starts to suck, her lids fluttering closed.
Goddess. She’s a fucking goddess. How did I ever think I could resist?
When she’s cleaned the wetness off my fingers, I order, “Now get that cock inside you.”
Trembling, she guides me as I press my hips forward. The moment slick heat envelopes the head of my dick, I grab her hips and thrust.
She gasps and arches back. Her body presses against mine. She doesn’t cry out, but she sinks her nails into the muscles of my back and shudders.
I slide my hands under her ass and bite her throat as I thrust again, driving deeper inside her soaked pussy. She’s tight, hot velvet, and I can’t get enough.
She says my name so softly, but the pleasure in her voice has a profound effect. It drives me crazy. I thrust into her over and over, my fingers sunk into her flesh and my heart racing.
When I lean down and bite her hard nipple through her blouse and bra, she stiffens. Her pussy contracts around my cock.
She likes that.
I bite down harder.
She orgasms with a full-body jerk, then begins rocking her hips frantically as her cunt convulses around me. I hold her weight as she sags against the wall. She whispers my name again, and it’s my undoing.
I empty myself inside her, giving her everything I shouldn’t, including my black heart and my wasted soul.
Shay
Still sunk deep inside me, Cole kisses my neck, then speaks in a voice so deep and raspy, it sounds like he’s swallowed gravel.
“Good girl.”
Panting, delirious, and still convulsing in pleasure, I cling to him as he kisses my jaw.
I’m not even really holding myself up. I’m balanced on one tiptoe, but Cole’s supporting almost all my weight in his hands. It’s a good thing, too, because I’m dizzy and shaking, my legs newborn-colt weak.
He takes my mouth. The kiss is deep and passionate, but not as rough as when he first burst through the stairwell door. He’s breathing as hard as I am.
When I open my eyes, his are already open. The look of adoration in them makes me weak all over again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers raggedly. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you are, baby. You’re a fucking work of art.”
He presses his lips to mine in a sweet, soft kiss that’s somehow even more breathtaking than his passionate ones.
I’m not sure I could speak even if I wanted to. So I remain silent as he gently withdraws from my body, steadying me when I wobble. I stay quiet as he fixes his clothing, pulling up his zipper and clasping his belt. He squats down to retrieve my panties, and I use his shoulders for balance as he pulls them up my legs. He stands, slides them up my hips and into place, and rearranges my skirt, smoothing the wrinkles.
Then he grasps my chin and looks into my eyes.
“Don’t clean up.”
I moisten my lips and shake my head, not understanding his meaning.
“Don’t wipe my cum out. I want you to sit at your desk all day, wet and sticky, thinking about me. Tell me you will.”
What is it about his voice that makes me want to roll over and do tricks for him like some obedient little puppy?
“Yes. I will.”
He smooths my hair, kisses my forehead, then takes my hand and leads me down the stairwell to the twenty-eighth floor. Our footsteps echo off the walls. The fluorescent lights flicker. I’m so disoriented, I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience.
When we reach the landing, he turns to me and kisses me again.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I have no idea. What just happened?”
He pulls me into his arms and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “You know what happened.”
“I mean what does it mean? Ten minutes ago, you were insisting I walk away from you.”
He takes my face in his hands and gazes deep into my eyes. “And you should.”
When he doesn’t add anything else, I sigh. “Remember how I told you at the bar that first night that you were the most annoying man I’d ever met?”
His full lips curve upward into a smile. “I remember everything. Now get to work.”
Lowering my voice, I say, “What if someone asks me about Dylan? What do I say?”
“No one will ask about him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It’s taken care of.”
“Oh, great. Could you be a little more cryptic? That wasn’t halfway mysterious enough.”
He kisses my forehead, then each cheek, then my lips, like some kind of formal Mafioso blessing from the movie The Godfather.
“You don’t have to worry about anything, baby. You don’t ever have to worry about anything again.”
He opens the door and gently pushes me through it. Then he turns away, letting it close behind him with a metallic clang.
I stand there listening to his footsteps recede up the cement stairs with that out-of-body feeling again, as if I’m watching this all unfold in a dream.
“You don’t ever have to worry about anything again.”
What could that possibly mean? It could be anything from forcing a lobotomy on me to paying off all my credit cards and my car loan.
The cubicle field is still empty. The clock on the wall reads six thirty, so I’ve got plenty of time before anyone else shows up. Unsteady, I head to the ladies room to fix my hair and makeup. Then I go back to my office and sit at my desk.
It’s now six thirty-seven, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through this day.
Deciding to get a cup of coffee, I head into the break room. I’m surprised to find Simone standing at the counter, making a cup of tea. Wearing a gorgeous emerald green suit that flatters her creamy complexion, she looks up and smiles.
“Good morning, Shay.”
“Good morning. You’re here early.”
“I like to get an early start on Mondays. How was your weekend?”
I freeze, then force a stiff smile. “Great. Yours?”
She shrugs, dunking the tea bag up and down in her mug. “Relaxing. I read, got caught up on Netflix. Puttered around in the garden. By the way, Dylan quit unexpectedly over the weekend, so you might have to take over some of his workload until we find a replacement. I’ll try to make it as little as possible. I know you’ve got your hands full already.”
My breath catches. My heart skeps a beat, then starts to thud. I swallow nervously.
“Dylan quit?”
“Mmm. Left me a voicemail. Not very professional, but not all that surprising. He’s been having some issues for a while.”
My mind races. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act calm and collected when everything inside me is tumbling around in screaming turmoil, but I manage to eke out a word.
“Issues?”
She removes the teabag, wrings it out with a spoon, sets it on a small ceramic holder shaped like a four-leaf clover on the countertop, then picks up the mug and looks at me.
“Interpersonal problems with the staff. He wasn’t well liked. I’m sure he won’t be missed.”
Her voice is smooth, but her stare is pointed. She sips her tea, gazing at me over the rim while I try very hard to make my face an emotionless mask.
She knows.
Not only that, but she also delivered a fabricated story about him quitting over voicemail without batting an eye, which is impressive in several ways, but mainly because she can claim to have accidentally deleted it if anyone in law enforcement asks to hear it.
I concentrate on keeping my breathing steady. Holding eye contact with her is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. “I see,” I say quietly. “Well. I…I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
She lowers the mug and smiles. “Thank you.” Then she walks to the door, pausing briefly to touch me on the shoulder as she passes.
It’s the same brief touch Cole gave Chelsea Saturday morning at my apartment.