I had to put my hand to my chest to hold my breath steady.
“You and I both know that your office hasn’t really called,” I said quietly, deliberately. “You can choose to leave them a message now, and I’ll hang up and the blinking light will go away. Or you can stay on the line while I connect you. Your choice.”
Because I believed in consent and everything.
“I’ll…take the call. Thank you.” There was a hint of humor in his response, an underlying rumble of curiosity, and the thread through it—plain old sensuality.
This man oozed sex.
My belly did somersaults.
“All right then. Hold please.”
I patched the call through, then picked up my cell phone and ran into the back room where I could talk privately.
“Nathan here,” he said again, and I had to bite back a laugh because of the barely disguised amusement in his tone.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly, almost forgetting everything I planned to say. The moment, having arrived, was making me so nervous I could barely think. I had to get a grip. This was too good a moment to waste. I’d been looking forward to telling this story way too much to blow it now.
“I mean,” I twirled a strand of hair around my finger coyly, even though he couldn’t see me, just to get into the groove. “You asked me a question the last time you were here. Asked me to have an answer for you when you came back.”
“I did.” He cleared his throat. “Have you got that for me now?”
I closed my eyes so I could fully put myself into the scene, so that I wouldn’t freak out and fuck it up. “I have. I’ve called to tell you my answer, actually.”
I could picture him crossing his legs, shifting in his chair, possibly angling his hard body away from Hudson. “And you think now’s the best time for this?” He wasn’t challenging me. Rather, it felt like he was making sure I was sure.
And I was. I was very sure. His permission made it even easier for me to go on.
“Definitely. This is the best time to tell you, in fact.” Best time for me, anyway. “I’ve had lots of different scenarios in mind. I wish I could tell them all to you, but really, they all end the same way, so I thought that’s what I’d share with you today. The happy ending.”
“Go on.” His voice still had a hint of a smile, but had roughened a bit too.
I could picture him, trying to look anywhere but at Hudson, trying to sound as though this conversation were very businesslike, another important emergency that he just had to be involved with right away.
“Well, they all end with your pants down and your cock out. Your left hand would be wrapped around my panties—I noticed you’re a lefty—your fingers would poke through one leg hole and come out the other. The crotch of my underwear would lie across the palm of your hand. And you would wrap the silk lace around the length of yourself, all up and down, up and down along your cock. You’d love the feel of it, the slinky feel of silk with the cotton lining inside the crotch panel. It would get you even harder as it stroked along your thick cock because it’s so soft. But the thing that would turn you on most would be the knowledge that my pussy lips had sat against the same material, that my own juice had soaked that very same cotton lining. And everything about it, every time you let your mind dwell on the fact that my sex had touched the same spot your sex was now touching, you have to fight not to come, to hold on a little bit longer, fight not to erupt right there all over yourself. Eventually you wouldn’t be able to control it any longer, you wouldn’t be able to keep it in, and then it would be there, spilling all over your fingers, all over the material of my panties. Soaking them.
“I bet you got yourself off like that the first night you went home with your prize in your pocket. They’re still wadded up in a mess because you haven’t brought yourself to wash them. Because if you wanted to clean your cum, you’d have to wash my scent off as well. And you didn’t want to do that. Did you?”
I’d gotten so lost in the description, so lost in the fantasy I was spinning, I could barely remember where I was. My thighs tingled. My panties were wet. My heart was in the back of my throat, pounding, clamoring to get out. I opened my eyes and peeked out of the stock room, suddenly remembering anyone could have walked in, and I might not be alone any longer.
Thank God, I was.
The other end of the line, though, was quiet. All I could hear was Nathan Sinclair’s breathing. It was steady. Even. I couldn’t read anything from it.
Was he turned on? Was he as aroused as I was? Had this had any effect on him at all, or was it a stupid ploy? Was he angry, even?
I couldn’t tell.
Eventually he’d been silent so long I decided I’d better nudge him. “Mr. Sinclair?”
“That sounds good,” he said abruptly, as if suddenly remembering himself. “I will catch up with you about that later. Thank you. For bringing that to my attention.”
Before I could say anything else he passed the phone back to Hudson and hung up. The line went silent. I listened to the flat dull tone for several seconds, stunned that I’d actually done it. That I’d actually played a sex game. At work. With a stranger. In front of my boss.
Who the fuck was I?
Whoever I was, I needed to get back to being Trish Bisceglia.
I quickly fixed my hair, wiped the damn sweat off my brow, reapplied my lipstick, and returned to my desk, where I tossed my phone back inside my purse and slammed the drawer shut. Thank goodness it was late on the last day of the week before the holiday. There was no one in the office, and by now, probably hardly anyone in the building.
Then I bent my head over the desk and groaned.
Why had I done that?
Nathan could be telling my boss all about it right now. When the two of them came out, I could be called straight into Hudson’s office and promptly fired. This could be the end of my job. Nate might’ve made my week miserable, but it wasn’t like he’d done anything to actually threaten my career. No, I’d done that all on my own by playing a stupid sex game.
A really hot sex game, but that was beside the point.
My behavior had been immature and reactionary. Years, years of balancing my professional life against my very active kink life, and I’d fucked it all up over one green-eyed hottie. At least I’d have the long weekend to touch up my resume, and my mother’s amazing Thanksgiving dinner to drown all my woes in.
I was still wallowing when the door to Hudson’s office opened. I jumped in my seat, unprepared to see either Nathan Sinclair or Hudson Pierce. I couldn’t look either of them in the eye, and so I pretended to be really engrossed in something on my computer when they came out.
“I’ll look these over this weekend, Nathan, and get back to you after the holiday. Have a good Thanksgiving.”
“You too. Tell your wife and family that I hope they have a lovely holiday as well. Oh, before I go, might your secretary show me to the restroom?”
I froze. Secretary meant me.