Compromising Connections J. Rose Allister When Gillian receives an erotic striptease video on her cell phone that was meant for someone else, she winds up making a cellular connection she never dreamed of. The seductive, mysterious sender soon inspires her to indulge in phone sex in places she never dared. With this kind of stimulation, any location—the back booth in a bar or even huddled in her cubicle at work—seems perfectly acceptable. Her partner in these stolen moments of illicit bliss is unbelievably hot, daring and ready to take on every naughty toy in her nightstand drawer. Kent Johnson stirs things inside her that are almost too good to be true. When he turns out to be her boss after a company transfer, she wants to show Kent she can take any position he‟ll offer—either in the office or in his bed. But corporate policy forbids company fraternization, and it‟s a rule for which the boss won‟t compromise…even for her. Gillian‟s lonely nights are destined to return unless they can find a way to steam up the boardroom without jeopardizing their careers.
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Compromising Connections ISBN 9781419935046 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Compromising Connections Copyright © 2011 J. Rose Allister Edited by Grace Bradley Cover design by Syneca Electronic book publication September 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora‟s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora‟s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher‟s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author‟s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author‟s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
COMPROMISING CONNECTIONS J. Rose Allister
Dedication Special thanks to my editor, Grace Bradley, who can magically polish a manuscript with a joke on her lips and a song in her heart.
J. Rose Allister
Chapter One “This is the absolute worst birthday party I have ever been to, and that‟s after four fancy drinks with umbrellas in them.” Gillian Winters stopped twirling the paper umbrella in her daiquiri and rolled her eyes at her friend. “Wow, thanks, Dahlia. I feel so much better about agreeing to come out with you. Remember, I wanted to go home after the shittiest workday ever.” Dahlia scowled, and the dim lighting of the room turned her already dark eyes into unreadable slits. “I‟m serious, Gilly. You‟re sucking the joie de vivre right out of the room. It‟s a bar. Some of us actually come here to have a good time.” A frizzy auburn curl fell into Gillian‟s face, blocking her view of the woman seated across the booth. She pushed it back and shrugged. “Sorry. I didn‟t realize my birthday was about your personal enjoyment.” “Damn right it is.” Her dimpled grin twinkled with mischief. “I had every intention of getting picked up by a hot guy tonight, but look what you‟ve done.” Gillian glanced around. “What the hell did I do?” “We‟re stuck alone in the darkest back corner of an already dark bar, nitwit. How are guys supposed to pick us up if they can‟t even see us?” “Excuse me for wanting peace and quiet.” She tossed a look over her shoulder toward the parquet dance floor at the opposite end of the dank room. “Not that the crap eighties music thumping through my skull is helping any.” “Since you‟ve pulled us into this black hole of antisocialism, I can‟t even see hot ass out on the dance floor, let alone do anything about it.” Gillian sipped her drink. What a way to top off her shit-for-a-birthday—another of her best friend‟s trademark bitch sessions. The woman‟s short, black bob swished back and forth as she shook her head. “God, it‟s been three whole months since my last lay. I walk around wet all the time, like my body is on permanent standby. Do you ever get that?” Gillian made a face. “That‟s gross.” “I‟ll bet you do. It‟s been even longer for you.” Dahlia took a slurp of her drink and peered over the rim. “How long‟s it been?” “Seven months.” Dark eyes goggled. “Shit! How can you stand it? Don‟t you feel like you‟re on edge every single minute? I‟d probably explode with a spontaneous orgasm right here in this booth.”
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A flicker of irritation crawled over Gillian‟s spine. This was hardly a topic she wanted brought up on her birthday. Even thinking about sex brought that low-down tickle, followed by an ache she tried to drown out now by shifting on the vinyl bench seat. And here she thought the only gift Dahlia was giving her today was a free drink and a pair of earrings. “Could we talk about something other than my nonexistent sex life?” Gillian asked. “Or do you want to see this black hole go supernova?” “Black holes can‟t do that.” “Try me.” Dahlia pushed her glass away on the table between them. “Well, I for one am not going to let your birthday go to waste. You want to sit around licking career wounds, fine. But really, who cares if your promotion went to someone else?” Gillian‟s eyes widened. “I do. I worked hard for it.” “It‟s not like they fired you.” “I‟m being transferred. What the hell do you call that, a pat on the back?” “You‟ll still be with the company.” “Far enough away that I have to think about moving.” Gillian eyed her friend. “Did you ever consider a career as a crisis hotline counselor? Because I think desperate souls would find your suck-it-up approach very comforting.” Dahlia waved a hand. “Bah. Things like this happen for a reason, Gilly. Even for someone like you.” Gillian folded her arms, leaning them on the table. “What do you mean, „someone like me‟?” “You like everything neat and ordered, no surprises. No spontaneity.” “That‟s not true.” “You alphabetize your underwear drawer by manufacturer label.” “I do not. I sort by color.” “And your fridge looks like a military regiment on formal maneuvers.” “So? I like to be able to find things.” “You like to be in control. And you think you can line up your life just like your thongs and condiments.” Gillian shot her a sour look. “Gee thanks, Mom. Is there anything else you left out about how bad my life sucks?” “It‟s for your own good. You need to learn to live a little. Do something unexpected. Twenty-five only comes around once.” Gillian fished in the purse beside her. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a palm-sized black rectangle. “What do you call this?” Dahlia glanced at it with skepticism. “On my planet, we refer to it as a cell phone. What do you call it where you‟re from?” 7
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Gillian rolled her eyes. “I call it proof that I can be outrageously spontaneous. I bought this brand new, high-end smartphone on the spur of the moment.” “I admit that shelling out for a fancy phone when your company phone worked just fine was a bit of a departure for you. But don‟t pretend it wasn‟t the ability to sync all your appointments to your desktop calendar that got you all glassy-eyed.” With a shrug, Gillian set the sleek, black phone on the table. “So am I done with the lecture, or do you need to cheer me up some more? Kick my dog, maybe?” “You don‟t have a dog.” “Or any problem with the way I live my life.” Dahlia sighed and bottomed up her drink. “I‟m spontaneously going to the ladies‟ room. On my way back, I‟m going to hit up the dance floor and see if I can get some.” “What, you plan to pound one out right here in the bar?” Dahlia clutched her ample chest. “Wow, actual humor from you today. I might faint.” Her expression muted. “Seriously, you don‟t mind, do you? Assuming I can‟t talk you into coming along.” Gillian shook her head. “Far be it from me to drag my best friend into a black hole of romantic doom.” Dahlia fluffed her hair and blew Gillian a kiss. “I won‟t be too long. Promise. But it wouldn‟t kill you to take a cruise past the dance floor yourself, you know. A birthday screw might loosen you up.” Gillian glanced over at the sparsely populated dance area. Most of the patrons were at the pool tables, or over at the bar with their backs to her. “No thanks. I‟m not here to troll for guys.” “Suit yourself. It‟s your aching lack of fulfillment.” She slid out of the booth, smoothing her skinny red tube dress when she stood. The fabric encased the woman‟s body like a glove, highlighting every perfect curve. Gillian caught a whiff of heady perfume. Dahlia always smelled good, even in a stale bar. After the long and disappointing day at work, god only knew what Gillian smelled like. She watched Dahlia totter unsteadily on black heels toward the bathroom through an inexplicable haze Gillian found a bit disconcerting, considering the no-smoking policy. Fulfillment hadn‟t exactly been a buzzword for her lately. Not in any aspect of her life. Yet another round of self-flagellation on the topic of how she‟d missed out on the promotion was interrupted by a sudden buzzing on the table. Her phone was going off in vibrate mode since she‟d forgotten to switch the volume on after work. The device skittered over the slick surface with enough gusto for her to wish she‟d had it tucked somewhere low on her body. The notification alert was lit up, announcing an incoming text message. She stroked across the touchpad and pulled up the message. Since she hadn‟t had a chance to input anyone‟s information in the address book yet, there was no name on it.
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Congratulations on this special day, it read. Some kind of video was attached. Who was sending her a birthday message now? She‟d already heard from her mother and sister, and her coworkers had embarrassed the hell out of her with a cake at lunch—just after the news of her failure to get the promotion had hit the wire. Talk about the most awkward timing ever. Maybe Dahlia was texting her from the ladies‟ room. Gillian snorted at the thought, but then wrinkled her nose when she wondered what kind of video she‟d be sending from inside a bathroom stall. “She‟d better not be sending me video of the toilet flushing,” Gillian said to no one as she pressed the tiny video preview. Up popped a full-screen still of a man she did not know. A hot-looking one, too. His chiseled face was frozen in close-up, lit by a sexy smile and shining blue eyes. His ash-blond hair was cropped short and combed back from his forehead. The Play arrow sat on top of the image, begging her to find out what Mr. Hottie had to say. Curious, she pressed it. “Hey there,” he said, in such a deep, yet personable tone that she could almost believe he was looking right out at her. “This is a very special night in your life, one I sincerely wish I could be there for. But I‟m about to make it even more memorable.” The more he talked, the sexier he got, though she detected a slur suggesting that he, too, had been hitting drinks stuffed with little umbrellas. He winked and flashed a toothpaste-model smile. When that wider grin unleashed a dimple, Gillian felt her stomach jump. Damn, she was a sucker for dimples. Her mystery man hadn‟t lied. Even if his message cut off right now, it had already made her day more memorable. Who talked him into recording this little greeting? Dahlia seemed a likely suspect. The lighting on his end was too bright to think he was someone here at the bar, though. Maybe Dahlia recorded it earlier and snuck off just now to send it. “You once told me you‟d rather turn gay than tie the knot,” the sexy male went on. Gillian frowned while he arched a brow at the camera. “As your best man, it would be highly remiss of me if I didn‟t put that claim to the test. As your best friend, it‟s my duty to be sure you‟re headed for eternal bliss, not everlasting regret.” He took a couple steps back from the camera until she could see his tight brown t-shirt, clinging to an obviously toned upper half. “So, despite unwaveringly heterosexual leanings, I make this noble sacrifice to give you one last chance to consider switching sides.” Gillian blinked at the screen, confused. “What the hell?” The man reached over to something, and loud, thumping music blared from her speaker. She jerked and grabbed the phone, stabbing at buttons until she figured out how to dial down the volume. Her head whipped around, but no one was looking. Being alone in a rear booth at least had some advantages. She scowled back down at the video. Obviously, this message wasn‟t meant for her at all. This guy had sent it to the wrong number. Her finger hovered over the display, ready to shut the video off, but what he did next froze her in place and shot her eyes wide.
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Mr. Wrong Number began to bump and grind to the music like a hot male stripper angling for a hundred-dollar tip. Gillian‟s mouth fell open. How embarrassing for the poor guy, sending a message intended for a male friend to a stranger instead. She would just die! Then again, she‟d never have the balls to send out a text like that in the first place. The right thing to do would be to turn the video off, pronto. Yet when his eyes engaged hers with an erotic smolder, the message was no longer someone else‟s bachelor joke. This was her private party. He ran his hands through his short hair, his biceps flexing with the movement. Then he dropped them to the edge of his shirt, skimming it upward with a slow tease while the air around Gillian grew warmer. The shirt came off at last, and the guy swung it around over his head. “Mother of heaven,” Gillian said in a shocked whisper. Maybe he really was a male stripper, because he not only had all the right moves but the sculpted torso of a Greek god as well. His chest was tanned and gleaming under harsh lights—and those abs! She‟d just met the next model for those Ab Machine commercials. Muscles flexed with his every movement until the heat of alcohol and his performance snaked pleasantly through her bloodstream. When he dropped his head back and slid his hands downward over his toned flesh, she licked her lips and wished to god she could do the same to him. This was certainly jazzing up her otherwise lousiest birthday ever. Hell, yes, this guy could brag some memorable texting skills, and her libido couldn‟t quite decide whether to cry or applaud because of it. Wet heat seeped into the crotch of her gray work slacks, enough to wonder if a stain would be noticeable when she stood. But she wasn‟t going anywhere right now. He held her riveted, and she grew hornier by the moment. His hands moved lower to a spot off-camera that made her groan. She saw his upper arms flexing as he worked his hands down below, and she leaned closer to the phone with a frustrated sigh. “Back up, baby,” she said. “Shit. Move so I can see.” Almost as though he‟d heard her, he took a few steps away. “Oh, man,” she said. He had the top button on tight black pants popped open, and he palmed a bulge behind his zipper that brought Gillian‟s hand to her pussy without thinking. She could feel the hot dampness through her slacks and nylons, and pressing her fingers against her clit set loose an insistent throb. His zipper eased down inch by inch, and she pressed her thighs together around her probing fingers. Then it dawned on her what she was doing—and where she was doing it. With a stab of guilt, she whipped her head around to check out the dim room. She was all alone in the back. No one was nearby. No one cared. Dahlia was off prowling the dance floor to find the same release for hot tension that Gillian had found right at her booth. Why the hell not? No one would know her dirty little secret. There were rearbooth advantages, indeed. The stripper‟s smoldering blue eyes and come-hither smile brought her back to the phone, where he was edging his pants down over thickly corded thighs. She worked
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her hand faster between her legs, her lips parted and cheeks flaming. She slid her ass forward on the bench seat, arching her hips upward to give herself better access. Holding the phone steady grew more difficult as she became less restrained, so she propped the still-playing video up against the drink glass in front of her. Her nipples stiffened at the sight of the sequined red thong the guy wore beneath his slacks. With another surreptitious glance around, she slipped her free hand under her loose, white blouse and tweaked the hard nub straining inside her bra. The stab of pleasure shooting to her clit sent a hiss of pleasure out of her. Jesus, but his bulge was huge. He laced his fingers behind his head and thrust his pelvis forward, jutting that bulk at her in a motion that dried her throat. Fuck, what she wouldn‟t give for 3-D phone technology. Or better yet, a live showing. He had to have a pair of socks stuffed in that thong. No way in hell that was all natural. When he reached down to grab hold of the bulk, his hand barely cupped half of it. Maybe he had an entire sock drawer in there. With an erotic swivel in his hips, he twisted around to give Gillian a view that made her suck in a breath. His broad, muscular back tapered down to the thin strap of his G-string and the hottest, tightest ass she had ever seen. Her hands worked furiously over her nipples and cunt now. While he rotated his hips, her ass wriggled impatiently on the seat. Her breath came in gasps, and a prickle of sweat broke out over her forehead. When he reached a powerful hand around to deliver a hard slap to one of his toned ass cheeks she jerked and bumped the table, nearly upsetting the phone and her drink. Even better, when he turned back around, he was peeling the top of his thong down. A thatch of dark curls sent her heart into overdrive. Then he slid the sequined fabric down farther to offer a tantalizing glimpse of the base of a thick cock. “Fuck me,” she said in a purring whisper. No sock would fit in a cup alongside that. His organ was not only thick and veined, but partially erect. She wasn‟t the only one getting off on this little show of his. The thong slipped lower, revealing more of his impressive endowment. His hand reached inside the thong to grope the remaining hidden girth, and he let out a moan. That did it. Her body clenched, and she gritted her teeth to stifle a cry as her cunt spasmed in orgasm. Fuck, she‟d needed this release, and it was climbing high enough to know wave after wave would pound her for several long, hot, primal moments. Her eyes rolled upward while she pressed herself back into her seat. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Gillian‟s hands jerked away, her eyes flying open in shock to find Dahlia standing over the table, gawking at her. Her cunt and stomach kept contracting in sputtering desperation while she fought to hide her stilted climax. She coughed and gripped the table. “Nothing,” she said, in a hoarse, unconvincing tone. She fumbled for the phone to stop the video, then grabbed her drink and took a long swig. “I got a muscle cramp.”
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“Shit, looked more like you were having a seizure. Don‟t scare me like that.” Dahlia glanced at Gillian‟s phone in suspicion. “What‟s that you‟re watching?” She hid the phone upside down in her lap. “Just a demo that came with the phone. Thought I‟d play around with the features while you were off trying to get lucky.” “Well, Lady Luck has abandoned this place. There‟s not one hot guy worth looking at.” Gillian suppressed a smile and willed her pounding heart and pussy to stop acting like she‟d just been in the throes of ecstasy. The woman shrugged. “You want to get out of here?” More than Dahlia knew, considering the pulsing in her clit was waging warfare on her ability to focus on the conversation—or to give a damn about anything other than getting home to take another shot at getting what she craved. They grabbed jackets and purses and headed out into the late April evening. “Sorry your birthday was crap.” Dahlia zipped up a rabbit fur jacket against the chill night. Gillian smiled, her hand sliding into her coat pocket to feel the smooth lines of her new phone. “Oh, I don‟t know. I guess it turned out halfway decent after all.”
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Chapter Two The receiver slammed down with more vehemence than was strictly necessary when Gillian hung up her desk phone. She glowered at a stack of papers and snatched them up. Why was it that phone calls were so much more annoying right before lunch? Weren‟t people hyped up on enough caffeine by then to be capable of common courtesy? Not that she had any today herself. A glance at the empty cubicle across from hers curled her toes inside her tight black pumps. Perhaps her current mood had more to do with a certain coworker swooping her promotion out from under her than what time of day it was. A buzz on her desk brought her back around in her swivel chair. Her phone vibrated with a message alert, and after a quick swipe on the lock screen her eyes automatically scanned for the sender‟s name. A sliver of hope dissolved into selfderision. The text wouldn‟t be from him, of course. Why would it? How stupid that she‟d sat around last night fantasizing that he might contact her again. The first text had been a mistake—one he might not even realize he‟d made. Since she hadn‟t responded, he didn‟t even know she existed. She‟d spent the rest of the previous night programming phone numbers into the fancy new phone, and after some internal debate she‟d stored his number under the name heading of Mystery Man. That wasn‟t until she‟d indulged a second screening of his erotic video, of course. She‟d finally gotten to experience the end of his X-rated performance, along with how cataclysmic an orgasm could be after it had been interrupted in a bar. Best date she‟d had in years. What she hadn‟t gotten to see was the rest of his cock, since the show ended without him revealing the entire family jewels. He had stroked it to a grunting, but faked climax, the only unconvincing part of his act. At the end, he wandered back to the camera, panting almost as hard as Gillian. “Well, Johnny?” he asked, with a pussytingling grin she drooled over. “Did I convince you to take a walk down the aisle, or the dark side?” The video froze, and Gillian along with it. Shit, with his talent? He could probably convince her to do both—simultaneously, if need be. When her eyes found the notification, she stifled the prickle of disappointment. Dahlia‟s name appeared on screen. Who else? Everyone she knew was aware of her company‟s policy about personal phone time. Dahlia worked for the same company, but simply didn‟t give a shit. Gillian blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and retrieved the text. Whoever invented the concept of work needs to be shot.
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She could picture Dahlia sitting at her desk over in Accounts, chewing on the end of a pencil while she stared at the lead clerk‟s ass, which she always fantasized about bouncing quarters off of. At least over there they weren‟t boxed into gray cubicles like a depressing shipyard. Apparently, the powers that be at Chase Myers Office Solutions felt that when working with money, employees performed better while staring at tits and ass. Report shufflers, on the other hand, needed to be shut into solitary confinement and passed over for promotions. Gillian slid open her keyboard and typed a reply with her thumbs. Agreed, except I think that person’s probably been dead quite a while.
An answer came moments later. Serves ‘em right, but I’d still love to plug some bullets into the rotting corpse. Oi! Todd just bent over right fucking in front of me. Swoon.
No doubt seeing that ass presented in such splendor was the highlight of Dahlia‟s day. Gillian stared at the screen, but couldn‟t think of a snazzy reply. Enjoy the show.
That was all she managed. Lord knew it was a sentiment Gillian could relate to. She was about to put the phone down when a devilish thought hit. Why didn‟t she respond to that text? Mystery Man had seemed friendly enough. He might appreciate her letting him know that his message hadn‟t made it to the right person. Maybe he‟d strike up a conversation, ask her what she‟d thought of it. She clicked on the recipient window and selected his name. Deciding exactly what to say took quite a bit longer, but she finally tapped a message out. Hi. You don’t know me, but I think you accidentally sent me a text video last night that was meant for someone else.
Gillian grunted approval. The tone seemed polite but not gushy, and hopefully neither accusatory nor stalker wannabe. She pressed a button to send the message. A couple minutes went by while she shot constant furtive glances at the silent phone. In an attempt to distract herself, she decided to get some actual work accomplished. She tapped the edge of her paper stack against the desk to straighten the pile and turned to her file cabinet. The sound of another drawer opening with a metallic glide drew her attention to the next cubicle. Robert was pulling manila folders from his gray cabinet. Trying not to roll her eyes at the traitor failed, but she had finished her tour of the dingy acoustical ceiling by the time the man turned to face her. He wore a smug Iknow-this-sucks-for-you grin that matched perfectly with his new work duds—casual white Dockers, a polo shirt and sneakers. Sneakers! What she wouldn‟t give to ditch her cheap pumps for comfy Nikes on the job. Prick. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday yesterday?” Better than you know, jackass. No doubt he was waiting for her to whine and cry over hearing that he was headed to R&D, where he would be pampered to no good end by
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the company to encourage deep thoughts he was incapable of while she was stuck shuffling reports in the front office. She pasted on what she hoped was a convincing smile. “It was wonderful. Went out after work for some drinks, and things got a little wild.” Alone in her mind, but he didn‟t need to know that. He eyed her. “Glad you managed to drag yourself in this morning. I don‟t drink on work nights, myself.” He jerked his head toward his cubicle. “I‟m just picking up a few last things,” he went on, as if she gave a shit. Her phone jittered with another message, and Robert rubbernecked around her for a better look. “You have a personal cell phone out on your desk? Brave move, since they don‟t allow that here.” He whipped a silver flip phone out of a waist holster like he was preparing for a noon showdown. “That‟s why we have these cheesy little company phones.” She picked hers up to waggle back at him, afraid to look at the screen to see who was texting. “This is a company phone.” He frowned. “Only management gets upgraded touch-screen phones.” “Not if you buy it yourself and have it unlocked to accept the company SIM card.” Arms folded across his wimpy chest. His wasn‟t toned and rippled, like her dream date last night. “I didn‟t know you were allowed to do that.” Of course not, as that would require an independent thought process he was devoid of. And they wanted him on the “Big Ideas” team? Gillian shrugged. “No one said we couldn‟t.” He seemed to waver, and she wondered if he also worried about what brand of toilet paper the company sanctioned for ass wiping. Her eyes flicked of their own volition to the notification bar on her screen, did a double take, and then widened. Suddenly, she wished Robert would leave for reasons aside from her normal exhaustive list. “So,” he said, “when‟s your transfer going through?” She stifled a groan. Obviously he wasn‟t planning to let her answer the message her fingers itched to punch up. He still had a few square inches of shit left to rub her nose in first. Or maybe he was deliberately baiting her. Since they weren‟t supposed to engage in personal phone use on the clock, she wasn‟t about to check it in front of him. “Just under two weeks,” she said, gritting her teeth. She clutched the phone tighter while her eyes slid back and forth between the words Mystery Man and the annoying man in front of her. Go away. Go the hell away. Get the fuck lost. Finally, Robert seemed to tune in to her mental tirade. “Well, I‟d better get back to R&D. It‟s a shame I forgot and grabbed breakfast on the way in. You should see the spread they put on in our greenroom.”
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Double bonus points for stifling a snarky comment about how she would have seen it for herself, had he not yanked the job from under her feet like a worn rug. In the end, it wasn‟t really Robert‟s fault. He might backstab with the best of them, but the bottom line at Chase Myers was that those most likely to receive promotions were the ones who owned a pair of balls. Her hands quivered while she swiped a finger across the screen to retrieve her text from Mystery Man. All night last night she‟d wondered what he would say if he were to text her again. She‟d imagined all sorts of witty and charming replies. His actual answer, however, consisted of a single word. Apparently.
She wrinkled her nose. Apparently? What the hell kind of reply was that? What tone were his thumbs using when he‟d typed out such a profound thought? Damn, she hated trying to guess someone‟s feelings in a text, especially when they didn‟t tack a ridiculous emoticon or something on the end. Maybe the abrupt answer was his way of telling her to fuck off. Anger flared in her chest as she frowned at the display. Who did he think he was to cop an attitude? She hadn‟t asked him to send her a sexually harassing video. On the contrary, she was trying to do him a courtesy by letting him know about the mix-up. She yanked open the keyboard. Don’t worry, I’m not planning a lawsuit or anything. I just thought you would want to know.
There. She‟d said her piece. Nothing came back for two minutes. Then five. With a sigh, she dropped the cell on her lap and caught up on some interoffice email. Fifteen minutes later, a not-unpleasant notification buzz sent a jolt through her thin, black skirt. The pulse already fluttering in her throat beat harder when she saw his name. I’m not worried. I’m busy at a staff meeting.
She snarled her lip at the screen. So much for thinking he was a professional stripper. Exotic dancers didn‟t attend staff meetings, did they? Not unless they had to vote on what color jockstrap to gyrate in. She snorted and tossed her phone inside the purse sitting at her feet. Whatever this guy did for a living, he certainly was a lot more pleasant when he was flashing his dick at her. Of course, he hadn‟t realized he had been driving her insane with lust. His solo act had been for the benefit of another guy. Maybe he was gay, despite his claim in the video. Fine. Let Mr. Macho have his staff meetings while Ridiculous Robert wowed ‟em in R&D with his entire lack of imagination. She was through with male bullshit. Maybe Dahlia had been right about the move. If the shortsighted management here refused to see her potential, a fresh start might be her ticket to getting what she wanted.
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Chapter Three Bubble baths were the second most seductive places on earth, in Gillian‟s opinion. All that heady steam, the provocative scents she loved to indulge, and the slippery bubbles that let her hands glide sensuously over her curves while she pleasured herself combined to send her soaring above the cares of a long day. Her body ached for another release, obviously having forgotten the one and a half she‟d already provided the night before. In her bath, however, she didn‟t need to conjure up visions of a certain red-sequined thong to get herself worked up. Not that his smoldering stare and dimpled smile didn‟t appear like an erotic specter in the steamy mist swirling around her. However, considering that he now vied with Robert for first place rights in her Male Jackass Hall of Fame, she had other fantasies she‟d much rather invoke. Maybe the one where the hot repairman comes to fix her bedroom TV, and when his flashlight battery goes dead she tells him she‟s got spares in the nightstand—where he spots her special collection of private toys. Gillian scooted down until her head lay back on the edge of the tub, sliding one hand over her stiff nipples while three fingers from her other hand sank into her wet cunt. Jesus, she was incredibly horny this week. She hadn‟t even stopped for dinner yet. Her main course had been a beeline for the tub to get herself off, when she should be contemplating the hundred things that needing doing during the upcoming final weekend before the “emergency” staff transfer she‟d been awarded. Her breath quickened, puffing steam away from her face while she thrust her thighs apart. The palm of her hand worked her clit while she fucked herself. Damn, why hadn‟t she thought to bring the dildo in here? A thick cock would be so much better than a few slim fingers. A thick cock whose head she‟d never seen, attached to a man whose video presence alone was enough to send a woman into sexual madness. She pushed her hips up, moaning while she pinched her nipples. The electronic drone of an android voice behind her shot her upright. Water and suds flew out of the tub as she gasped in alarm. “What the fuck?” Her heart pounded while she glared at the tile countertop, where the phone rested innocently on top like it hadn‟t just scared her into near-heart failure. She‟d turned the call volume on after she‟d left work, and this was the first time she‟d heard the robotstyle default message tone. Who thought that baby up in the cell phone company‟s R&D department? Dumping that irritation would be her first order of business after she finished bathing—or rather, what she was actually doing in the tub. She turned around and slid back down with a sigh while she tried to get her head back in the game. Drooiiiddd, the phone announced again. 17
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Gillian groaned and shut her eyes. When a third insistent notice of incoming text came seconds later, she thrashed herself upright in the water and stood. “All right, already. Geez.” Soap suds streamed down her skin onto the white bath mat while she battled a seething flare of annoyance. Not bothering to grab a towel, she stomped over to the phone and she wondered why the hell she‟d brought it in. What was the blasted emergency? Had Dahlia finally seen Todd‟s ass naked? Let her text to herself about it all night. That phone was getting turned off until Gillian was damn good and ready for interruptions. A swipe across the screen halted her. “Oh.” Her voice echoed in the empty space. Seems it wasn‟t Dahlia getting hot and bothered over a guy‟s hind end, after all. Her Mystery Man had gotten over his initial laconic restraint, it seemed. Quite well, too, considering his reply took up three texts. A shiver washed over her as she stood there, still dripping. She stared at the menu display while decisions ping-ponged in her head. Should she stick to plan A and shut off the onslaught so she could get back to the business at hand? Or see what he had to say? Three texts in a row sounded less like a reply and more like some kind of peevish male rant. Maybe he wanted to tell her in many words what a few hadn‟t been able to convey about her fucking off. Her curious stare at the screen turned into a glower. She could stand there all night and wonder about it like a dolt, or she could make a move. Which would it be? Read it and weep, or rub one out? A sigh whooshed out as she glanced over at the tub. Like that was going to happen now with her concentration shot. She was as clean as a twenty-minute soak in dirty thoughts was going to get her, anyway. Might as well come even cleaner and admit that she actually wanted to see his reply more than she wanted the orgasm. Wasn‟t that something? She leaned over and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the rack, taking her time to dry off instead of snatching up the phone. Let him wait. He‟d ignored her all day. Extending her towel-off time for as long as possible gained her only two additional minutes. Wrapping the towel around her chest, she took the phone with her into her bedroom. The cheery peach tones of her décor failed to improve her mood while she sat cross-legged on the eyelet comforter, something she didn‟t ordinarily do. She preferred to turn the spread down to the foot of the bed before getting on top. Ignoring the way her unladylike pose let a rush of cool air in against damp pussy curls, she clicked open the first message. So sorry I had to cut this off earlier. Stuck in meetings all day. Lots of crap going on at work.
Her brows arched. So sorry sure didn‟t sound like the opening volley to a lambast session. Not to mention work crap was something she could grasp. Next up was even more telling.
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About that video, I am really mortified that you received it. It was meant as a stupid, private joke. My apologies.
The third and final read, I was a bit drunk and dropped the phone when I punched up Johnny’s number. A couple digits deleted off the end, and I tried to type them back from memory. I never should have taped the thing in the first place. Guess I learned my lesson. Sorry it was at your expense.
Well, his thumbs had certainly loosened up. She dropped the phone on the bed in front of her crossed legs. What now? Leave him hanging a while, wondering whether she‟d let him off the hook? Reaching over to her nightstand, she tugged the drawer open and let her eyes skim over the assortment of toys, organized in rows according to size. Wouldn‟t Dahlia get her thong in a wad if she saw that? With a snort she reached in beside her favorite dildo—a long, blue baby located conveniently on the side closest to her bed—to grab a bottle of lotion. She pondered his texts while she slathered the cold, silky cream on her arms and legs. Inhaling the soothing vanilla aroma did little to soothe her nerves. She wiped her hands on the edges of her towel and snatched up the phone. I understand. Thanks for the explanation. She paused. But it wasn’t really at my expense. More like you made my day.
She pressed Send before she could chicken out and leaned back against her pillows, feeling her cheeks heat up. As seconds ticked by without a response, her face flamed hotter and hotter. Well, she‟d done it. Gushed out something trashy when he was just trying to do the mature, polite thing and apologize. She wouldn‟t hear from him again. Droooiiidd. “Shit!” She‟d forgotten about that annoying sound. Before allowing herself to look at the answer she was a little afraid to read, she went into her phone‟s sound settings and annihilated the robot. His reply brought a giggle from her. Thanks…I think. You’re not a guy, are you?
Try as she might, she couldn‟t wipe the smile from her face. No. My name is Gillian.
The answer whipped back in seconds. Married? Nope. In that case, Gillian’s a pretty name. And thanks for making me feel better about the whole thing. Only fair, considering how good you made me feel.
Jesus, had she really just sent that? Amazing how a few months of dating a rubber dong could turn a girl into a savagely desperate slut. Really? How good?
Damn, he was fast on the buttons. Her thumbs pressed like crazy to keep up.
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Good enough to do something about it in a public place. Are you somewhere public now? Alone on my bed. I just had a bath. And you didn’t tell me your name.
Her eyes glanced over at the still-open nightstand drawer. I’m Kent. And I seem to be having trouble typing now.
She grinned. Your fingers seem nimble enough to me. This was really happening. She was flirting by text. Shamelessly. Yet, with him far away and her anonymous, she could be as blunt as she wanted without fear. It was safe and downright freeing to act like the horny bitch she‟d been the last few months. His next text buzzed in. I wish I could see you right now. Are you lying down?
If that didn‟t sound like a prelude to her next orgasm, she didn‟t know what did. She settled back farther, uncrossing and parting her legs, reclining against her pillows. Wearing a towel.
She reached into her drawer for her favorite dildo, a monster that probably couldn‟t best Kent‟s dimensions in a cock-measuring contest. That’s not fair.
She slid the silicone shaft down her tummy and rested it against her thigh. What’s not? You’ve seen pretty much all of me, and I don’t even know what you look like.
Her eyes widened. Shit, where was he going with this? Maybe he expected a return video, thanks to her trash talk. Maybe this whole interlude wasn‟t as safe or freeing as she‟d thought. Damn stupid was more like it. Not quite all of you. You left just enough hidden for me to keep wondering how much bigger you really are. Send me a pic.
The dildo slid down onto the bed while she frowned. So much for trying to divert him with an ego boost. What if he didn‟t like her looks? She wasn‟t downright ugly, but she‟d never been told to consider a modeling career, either. Oh well. Fair was fair. What a shame that she‟d been having so much fun with this guy. Before committing anything to digital photography, she jumped up off the bed and raced to the bathroom. Her green eyes got a touch-up of mascara, and her lips a slick of gloss. Her hair was another matter. Major reconstructive surgery would be required to repair the frizzy damage wrought by her steamy bath. A couple of fluffs failed to help, so she rushed back to find another message waiting. Still with me?
She glanced at the phallus on her bed. Oh, yeah she was. This is a new phone. Give me a sec to figure out the camera.
Not quite able to bring herself to shed the towel for her glamour shot, she tucked it tighter under her armpits, but left it low enough to show some cleavage. She shook out
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her hair and aimed the device at herself. The shot took six tries before she got herself centered and looking halfway human at the same time. Blowing out a breath, she sent the picture and wondered whether she‟d ever hear from him again. When the response came back in seconds, she was afraid to open it. Holy shit. You’re even hotter than I imagined.
She shook her head, but couldn‟t help a smile. Now you’re just trying to make me feel better. Hell, no. Are your eyes really that green, or is it just the lighting? They’re pretty green. People say it’s my best feature. I disagree. The sexy red hair has my pulse racing.
She swallowed. My, but her private dancer had certainly done an about-face from this morning. The phone buzzed again before she could text back. Is it red like that everywhere?
She smiled. Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. You already showed me yours. I’ll show you the rest, and do anything to it that you want.
Fuck. She felt her pussy moisten as thoughts flicked in rapid succession of all the things she‟d love to watch him do to it. Not to mention how much she‟d love to help. He texted again. Should I send you a pic of the full monty? She climbed back onto her bed and held the phone with one hand while she gripped the smooth dildo with the other. She‟d love to see his cock right now. Hold it. Taste it. The rubber version dipped between her thighs, and she used the mushroom head to massage her clit. With a moan she leaned back on her mattress and slid the shaft along her slippery folds. She pressed down until just the tip slipped inside her cunt, stretching her opening. She left it there and tapped out her answer. Not yet. I kind of enjoy leaving a little mystery to my Mystery Man. It drives me crazy, wondering about you. I’m beginning to see your point. Thinking about you has my dick so hard it’s in my hands right now. Is your towel still on?
She hissed and wriggled on the dildo a little, letting it shove inside her a bit deeper. Typing was growing increasingly difficult. Yes. Pull it the fuck off. I want to picture you naked and spread wide on your bed, with your hands running through the hot red curls between your legs.
The demand in the message sent a thrill of excitement through her. Her heart gave a little skip as she did as instructed. What about me sliding a thick dildo in and out of my cunt? Is that okay?
This time, the response took longer to come back. While she waited, she twisted her hard nipples and worked the rubber shaft deeper inside her pussy, inch by inch. With her eyes closed, she could almost see Kent poised over her, his biceps taut and blue eyes
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dark with desire as he eased himself into her. A gush of warm fluid slicked out over the dildo as she worked it in and out with a groan. She was so far gone in the fantasy that the buzz of her phone barely managed to break her reverie. Jesus, woman. You’ve got me sitting in my office stroking off like a teenager. I wish I was about to shoot cum all over you instead of my desk.
She groaned as the imagery of him with his business tie askew and his work slacks gaped open sent her pounding pulse into triple time. He was beating off his luscious cock to her photo and texts. How much more could she take? No more replies came from her sore thumbs now. She jammed the surrogate Kent dildo into her cunt hard while she arched her hips, her head tossing back and forth on her pillows while sweat tingled all over her body. A third hand would have been nice to help her rub both breasts simultaneously, but she did her best as Kent‟s cellular foreplay finished its job. “Oh god,” she cried out as her body tightened. The explosion rocketed through her with even greater force than the nuclear orgasm Kent had been responsible for the previous night, and she thrashed like a bitch in heat while the dildo made wet, sucking sounds that sent her even higher. Changing the angle of the shaft brought it dragging over the bud of her clit, and she shuddered in climax again while squeezing her legs together around it. Finally her body‟s tectonic motions ceased and she lay there, huffing out breaths into the quiet space. The reminder buzz of unread messages alerted her to the fact that she was actually still on earth. Her hands shook while she reached over for the abandoned phone. Anything I can do to help before I lose the ability to type completely?
She slid open the keyboard and flopped back down with a smile. You already did. Twice.
Nothing more came in response. She dropped a forearm over her eyes, feeling the chilled air in the room dry the sweat on her body. She‟d need another bath after this. Whether she could bathe and not touch the places still tingling at the thought of Kent tossing his head back against some office chair while he stroked off to her texts was up for debate. When she‟d been celibate for a while, one good orgasm could normally keep her going for a couple of weeks. With Kent in the picture, however, she was fast becoming a habitual masturbator with no sign of easing up. Her eyes had fluttered into a light doze when the phone went off again. The clock read eight fifteen, twenty minutes since their last text. She rubbed bleary eyes and propped herself up on one elbow. Fuck. The most intense orgasm I’ve had in as long as I can remember got interrupted. I almost got caught!
A belly laugh flew out of her. The same thing happened to me last night. Seriously? Were you at work? In a bar.
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Scared the shit out of me. I had no idea anyone else was still in the office.
That definitely beat out her story for worst orgasmic timing. Sorry I almost got you in trouble. Oh, you’re trouble, all right. But it was worth every damn second. How was it for you? Unbelievable. Even better than the climaxes I had watching your video. You really got yourself off in the middle of a bar? In the back of one. Finished up at home later. I have to get going, if I can remember how to drive. Can I text you tomorrow?
She fought off a flicker of disappointment. It’s a date, she typed. Then she backspaced it out and replaced it with, Sure thing. Of course he‟d actually want to leave his job at some point. She was already home and in bed. Starving, too, from the zero dinner she‟d eaten before their cellular workout. At least Kent had said he wanted to talk to her again. Hopefully that wasn‟t just a guy string-along line, like the famed “I‟ll call you” after an iffy first date. For the first time in her life, regardless of how she berated herself for doing it, she slept curled up around the cell phone she had plugged in beside her.
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Chapter Four Just how selfish and pathetic was it that she‟d hoped for a good-morning text? Or better yet, a sexy middle of the night wake up? Gillian smoothed her best skirt and sat down at her desk, glancing at the still-quiet phone she‟d tucked out of sight on the far side of her computer monitor. And why had she bothered to dress up in her favorite skirt with the office-sexy back slit and bodyhugging sweater? It wasn‟t like a certain text pal would see her in it. Maybe she just felt sexier today, knowing she had inspired an insanely attractive man to get himself off. Then again, said man hadn‟t contacted her since, and it was nearly lunchtime. Maybe he hadn‟t really been as into it as he‟d claimed. What was he doing right now? More meetings? She‟d never asked him what he did for a living. What was his office like? Warm and inviting, with earthy wood tones and homey furnishings that begged to have someone bent over the desk? Or was it cool and sterile, making what he‟d done in it last night that much more shocking? She suppressed a moan of frustration as a small throb of longing pulsed in her clit. She had to quit thinking about sex. Or about Kent, who at this point was synonymous with all things erotic. If she didn‟t dial it back, she‟d wind up doing what he‟d done, right here at her desk. Hell, maybe that would demonstrate to the bosses that she thought outside the box. Or maybe it just proved she thought with her box. A snort of derision ended her mental discussion. Not counting the upcoming weekend, she only had a week of work days left in which to shuffle papers at this desk like she had never dreamed of a greater destiny. They probably expected her to blow off the job, put in her time without caring what got done. In some ways, she didn‟t care. But she‟d shock the hell out of management by giving her best effort anyway. She‟d go out and face the transfer with her head held high. It wasn‟t like they were sending her to Siberia. She would be at a satellite office a couple hours away. “Heading out to eat,” a female voice said from the opening to her cubicle. “Coming?” Gillian turned and smiled. “Not today, Sally. I‟ve got some things to finish up.” The woman who sat in the cubicle behind her shrugged and walked away just as Gillian‟s text notification went off. A little shiver shot down her spine when she pulled it up. At the risk of sounding psycho stalker, I can’t stop thinking about you.
Her pulse quickened. She rubbed damp palms on her skirt before replying. Likewise. Are you at home? At my desk.
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Likewise.
A silly grin broke out over her face. Careful. That got a little hairy for you last night. Not as hairy as today. In a good way? No. Lots of staff turnover and political bullshit. I took a break so I could talk to you. I’m glad, but sorry about work. Is this an okay time? Yeah. It’s lunchtime.
There was a pause in his rapid-fire texts. Then, Should I let you go eat? She frowned. No. I stayed behind to finish some things. Rest of the place is fairly deserted. Another pause followed. How deserted? Her brow lifted, but before she could answer he texted again. Can I call you? Gillian‟s heart rate shot up, fluttering with a panicked beat. Talk to him, in person? She swallowed down a lump in her throat. Why was she acting so childish? Of course if the guy was interested in her he‟d want to actually speak to her at some point. Might not be a good idea. Someone might overhear. Point taken. Then I have a proposition. Willing to try a little game where you do exactly what I say without question?
She stared at the screen. His brief commands to her last night had been fun, but what was this all about? Despite her reservations, she felt herself go damp. Maybe. No maybe. In or out?
Her stomach warmed up. Okay. What are you wearing?
She licked her lips. Knee-length brown skirt, thin, white sweater. Black pumps and nylons. Hair? Yes. I still have hair. Ha-ha. Is it full and wavy all around your face, like last night? Up in a bun. Mmm. Damn, that all paints a very sexy portrait.
Maybe her decision to dress to impress had some merit after all. When I tell you, I want you to take your phone and put it up your skirt just outside your nylons. Press the back of it where it counts and keep it there. What for? No questions. Then what? Woman, I’m going to put you over my knee when we finally meet if you keep disobeying.
She thought back to the slap he gave his own ass in the video and wondered if that was something he enjoyed in bed. God, how she‟d love to find out. A couple of minutes went by without her answering before the next text came back.
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Good girl. Put the ringer on vibrate and stick it where I wish to hell my face was right now. Understand? One word answer. Yes. Leave it up your skirt and go back to what you were doing. Don’t respond. Don’t move it until you come. You can text me when you’re done, or pick up the call and let me know yourself. You have sixty seconds.
She knew exactly where he was going with this, and she had to admit the idea sent a wave of goose bumps over her that tightened her nipples. Still, how could he keep it up long enough to get her off? More important, was he insane? He‟d jacked off in what she assumed was his private office after hours. She was in an open cubicle at lunch. She stared at the text, wondering if she should really go along with him. This would be one way to go out with a bang, she supposed. If she got caught, however, her transfer notice would probably turn into a pink slip. Fuck it. Sticking her head out of the cubicle, she risked a good look around. The office seemed fairly quiet on this end. Maybe this could be the rear booth of the bar all over again, only this time without Dahlia popping in to screw up a perfectly good climax. Dahlia lunched with the money gang every day but Friday, their girls‟ day. Butterflies took flight in her abdomen as she sat down and reached into a desk drawer. Inside was a stack of small plastic bags she sometimes used for organizing supplies. She grabbed one and stuck her phone in it. Yes, a condom for her cell phone. Color her crazy, but she wanted to protect her expensive electronics from the ungodly abuse about to be unleashed in the name of phone sex. Gillian parted her knees on her chair so she could slide the back of the rectangle up against her pussy. She was still positioning it when it buzzed right through the crotch of her nylons. A gasp of surprise came from her lips as her cunt heated up. Her new little baby packed quite a wallop—and it had gotten a full charge overnight. She pressed the phone against herself snugly as it vibrated twice, then three times. Her clit began a pleasant throb. Using her parted thighs to grip the narrow sides of the rectangle in place, she dropped her skirt and laid both hands on the desk in front of her. Another round of sizzling bursts with brief pauses in between followed immediately. She set her jaw and tried to focus on her computer screen. He expected her to keep working with this going on? Three more cycles of him dialing her phone left her nipples tingling and her cunt aching for release. Gillian gripped the arm of her chair, which she swiveled to face herself away from the opening in case anyone happened by. They would probably wonder about the insistent hum coming from her chair, in any case. All pretenses of work evaporated while she leaned her head back and let the sensations roll over her in waves. How was he delivering so much vibration so fast? What was he doing in the meantime? Could he possibly be grabbing his dick while he rapid-dialed her time and again? Not likely, but the mental image of him sitting at his own desk with his hand sliding up and down his naked erection made her eyes roll back.
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The urge to tear at her clothes and get busy with her hands was almost overwhelming, but Gillian resisted until finally, the start of another four-buzz round shot her over the edge. She reached down to hold the phone in place through her skirt, writhing as jolt after jolt of mind-numbing pleasure shook her. The throaty moans she tried to swallow into silence came out as almost agonized-sounding gasps. Her womb was still clenching in ecstatic spasms when she pulled the phone away and took it out of its plastic sleeve. “Jesus,” she said to herself in a whisper. “What did I just do? What did he just do to me in the middle of my workday?” The phone kept buzzing, and she wondered whether to break through and text him or do the brave thing and thank the man properly. He‟d certainly earned it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped her bun. It fell right back down as she clicked to accept the call. “Hi,” she managed. “You sound out of breath.” The sound of his deep tenor sent new waves of pleasure through her stomach. “With good reason. You didn‟t warn me that you‟re an Olympic cell phone medalist.” The little laugh he gave smoldered across the air waves. “You picked up the call because I made you come, I take it?” “Hell, yeah, you did. How did you do that?” “I‟m a speed-dial demon.” “I‟ll say. For all the jokes I‟ve heard about women strapping on cell phones for pleasure, I never thought it could actually work.” “A cell phone strap-on. That‟s a quality idea. Gonna have to file that one away.” His quick humor brought a flush to her cheeks. God, she was really talking to him. It felt so natural, so easy. She wondered why she‟d been afraid of this. She inhaled deeply in an effort to calm her ragged breaths. “So, were you able to do anything for yourself during all that dialing?” “My hands were pretty busy. Things are damn stiff in here, though, I‟ll admit.” She thought of that cock straining in his slacks. “Sorry to hear that.” “I‟m the one who should apologize.” A notification beeped for an incoming text. Dahlia was messaging. Hey. You’ve been ignoring me lately. What’s the deal?
Her brows furrowed as she went back to Kent‟s call. “Apologize for what?” “It dawned on me partway through that I don‟t actually know what you do for a living. You might be a prestigious surgeon, and my buzzing could have caused your hand to slip and take out a guy‟s spleen by accident.” She laughed. “You have nothing to worry about. I‟m a lowly office clerk.” “Nothing lowly about office clerks.” 27
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She hesitated. “You know, with everything that‟s been happening on the job lately, work is one topic I‟d really love to put on hold for a while. If that‟s okay?” “I couldn‟t agree more. The shit farm‟s really been hitting the wind machine here.” “Sounds serious.” “Maybe. But we‟re not going to talk about it. Did anyone tell you your voice is incredibly erotic?” She heard the smile in his warm tone and it lit one of her own. “Probably because I just had an incredibly erotic experience.” “Have lunch with me.” The smile slipped as her gaze shifted to the computer clock. “What, now? My lunch is almost over.” “This weekend. I‟ll drive out and meet you wherever you want.” “You don‟t even know where I live.” “We‟re both in the same area code. I don‟t mind a commute, if need be.” Much as his obvious desire to meet in person made her pulse skitter, her lip curled at the word commute. That stirred up thoughts of her apartment-hunting and prepacking plans for this weekend. Her heart sank. “I‟d really love to, but I‟ve got things to take care of.” “Damn.” Disappointment was evident in the tone. Another Dahlia text dinged through. Don’t make me show up at your cubicle, bee-otch. You know how Robert hates my guts because he knows he can’t have me.
“Maybe the following weekend?” Gillian asked. “It‟s just that I‟ve got a lot going on here, too. Let me get through this next week of upheaval with the stuff we agreed not to discuss. Then I‟d be happy to have lunch anywhere you want.” She heard a grunt of approval. “Anywhere? Even if that means bottoms up over my lap?” Fuck, the imagery this guy could evoke. Her thumbs flew over the keys to answer Dahlia‟s text. Robert’s in R&D now, dipsy doodle. And I’ve been busy getting ready to face my dire fate.
“Are you still there?” Kent asked. Gillian cleared her throat. “Yeah. And I‟ll admit that seeing you smack your sexy ass on video gave me some ideas for what I‟d love to do to it.” “I believe that turnabout is fair play.” She groaned, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. “You‟re bound and determined to make sure I get no work done today, aren‟t you?” “I definitely enjoy being bound and determined on occasion. Maybe that‟s something you can help me with.” She would not listen to her pussy‟s demands for another round. No, no, no. “Sounds fun.” 28
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Another Dahlia text came in. Gee, and here I was hoping you were busy with a guy.
Gillian wanted to tell her the truth. But it was just too complicated. Right, because that always happens. Seven months, remember? Technically speaking.
Kent was still talking. “That‟s the weekend I‟m playing best man at my friend‟s wedding. Be my date?” Gillian smiled. “Love to. Meanwhile, at least I have your video to keep me warm at night.” “And I your solitary, though dead-sexy, photo.” “Is that remorse I hear?” “Wistfulness. If you should decide to test out your phone‟s video capabilities, I‟d be a happy guinea pig.” “Happy stallion‟s more like it. I‟ve seen you in action.” “Comments like that are not helping loosen up my stiffness. Call you after dinner?” She heard footsteps and chattering voices down the hall. Another missed meal, courtesy of Mystery Man Kent, the professional phone lover. “Definitely.” Despite enjoying every second of Kent‟s cellular company, Gillian felt an urge to pitch the phone across the cubicle when Dahlia buzzed in with yet another message. My, wasn‟t she suddenly the popular gal? Still on for drinks to celebrate the end of your last day? Yes, and I plan to add at least six umbrellas to my paper collection. Now get back to work, bad girl.
Hopefully she‟d weather that girls‟ night out without letting her naughty little secret slip. She felt surprisingly reluctant to share Kent‟s existence with anyone, let alone the woman who would no doubt give her seven kinds of hell for “phone dating” the stranger she couldn‟t keep her mind off of.
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Chapter Five For her final act as a woman about to step across the threshold of her new destiny, Gillian pressed the Send button on her first video. The time on her dashboard clock read a quarter past eight, fifteen minutes before her appointment with the new boss at Chase Myers‟ smallest satellite division. She stepped out of the car, wondering whether it would make her appear too eager if she walked in this early. The morning air was crisp in West Grove, Arizona, which was two and a half hours closer to the coast than her place in Acherton. A quick peek into her side-view mirror showed several flyaway hairs that had abandoned her sleek bun during the commute. So much for her attempt to impress on the first day. Freeways were a thing of madness, and rush-hour traffic was enough to make any otherwise decent citizen consider a career change to sharpshooter. A text message dinged, and she jumped. Good luck on your first day, Dahlia wrote. Knock ’em dead. Maybe the mail room guy will be sex-ay.
She snorted. Since she‟d made it through farewell drinks without spilling the beans, Dahlia was still after Gillian to get her hands on a hot guy at all costs, lest she “spontaneously orgasm at the copy machine”. Thanks. Just pulled up, so I’m shutting the phone off.
She silenced the cell while checking out the diminutive tinted glass building where she would spend forty hours per week. There were no signs of activity, which struck her as odd. In Acherton, people came and went in a constant stream, and the parking lot was always packed. The employee of the month was granted the use of a special parking slot because finding a spot was such a bitch. Everyone circled like vultures fighting over too little meat. The parking lot where she stood now held no more than three dozen vehicles, almost none of which were status cars designed to give off vibes of upward mobility. There was a sense that the rat race had passed this place and gone elsewhere. Maybe she shouldn‟t be so judgmental. Perhaps this feeling was the result of coming to a dead stop just outside the door to her new life after a week and a half of racing through apartment searches and laundry and exit interviews. Not that she didn‟t welcome a moment to breathe and gather her thoughts, especially after the hellish bumper ride from Acherton. Nevertheless, the sensation of being ripped off the merrygo-round was disorienting. The only thing that had gotten her through that whirlwind was looking forward to calls and texts from Kent. Contacts between them had grown longer and closer together until it felt as if they were in touch more often than not. With the topic of job angst off the menu, their relationship had spun on an axis all its own,
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running the gamut between small talk, light flirtation and wild, erotic games. Each day, she grew more anxious for the day they would finally meet. Enough to have stirred a number of fantasies about their wedding day date. Gillian pulled up their conversation stream to reread his last message. Am I totally crazy for falling for you, even though we haven’t officially met yet?
The same warm glow rose in her stomach that she‟d felt the first time she‟d read it on her way to work this morning. With her hands gripping the wheel until her knuckles blanched, she hadn‟t been able to answer until she‟d pulled up at the new job. Only as crazy as I am for feeling the same way.
Attached to it was the video she‟d finally gotten up the courage to record the night before. Making a naughty video had felt damn sexy at the time. Watching herself demonstrate a variety of nightstand drawer toys on playback, however, had been a bizarre and embarrassing experience. Kent‟s video was so naturally erotic that she‟d mistaken him for a pro. Hers looked stilted and awkward, and she‟d felt too selfconscious to send it. Then she‟d received that text from him on the way to work. How could she resist? Knowing that even now he was probably sitting in an office somewhere, watching her little show made her heart do a flip. With a tug to straighten her blazer, she dropped her phone in a front pocket and strode to the front door. She‟d worn her power outfit again, the brown skirt and ivory sweater. She could do this. She would march right into Chase Myers 2.0, wow them with her professional demeanor, and then she‟d be on her way upward again. So what if West Grove ducks swam in a smaller pond? Better that than drown in the murky lake over at Acherton. The interior of the new job was just as different as the outside. Everything was done in golds and light earth tones. The reception desk in the foyer was empty, so she peered around a corner into the rest of the business. Her jaw fell open. This floor plan was completely open, with not a cubicle in sight. Natural light spilled in from windows everywhere. Live greenery dotted the wide walkways between desk groupings, many of which were vacant. The workers who were present chatted with one another quietly or answered muted phones. Some were actually smiling. Was she even in the right place? “May I help you?” The blonde woman she whirled on was tall and slender, giving the name “pencil skirt” a meaning Gillian had never quite been able to pull off. “I‟m Gillian Winters,” she said, extending her hand. “I‟m supposed to start today.” The woman offered a wide, red-lipped smile and accepted the handshake with a smooth, warm hand. “Of course. The Acherton transfer. I‟m Natalie, Mr. Johnson‟s personal secretary. Please, have a seat while I pull up the paperwork.” She gestured to a softly upholstered chair that Gillian accepted while the woman rounded her desk. “Thank you for agreeing to make the move so quickly,” Natalie said. She sifted through a large stack of file folders with the efficiency of a high-end secretary 31
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before tugging one from the pile. “As you might have seen, we‟re a bit short-handed right now. We‟ve had a change in management, however, that I‟m very excited about. We‟ll be right as rain in no time.” Gillian offered an understanding, yet positive smile. “I look forward to being part of the team here.” “I‟ll just slip your file onto the boss‟s desk. He was on a phone call when you came in. It might be a few minutes before he can see you.” “Not a problem.” Natalie disappeared behind a stained wooden door, and Gillian unclenched the clammy fists in her lap in an effort to relax. Her fingers ached to pluck up her cell and fire off a message to Kent, or at least see whether he had responded to her video yet. That might help take her mind off things. Hearing from him soothed some of her nerves while skillfully inflaming others, and it was a sensation she found herself relying on more and more. Still, she hardly wanted her first impression here to include personal phone use outside the boss‟s office. Were they as strict about things like that? The place sure seemed friendlier, but looks could be deceiving. And there was the odd issue of staff vacancies. Maybe people were up and quitting. Maybe the new boss wasn‟t all he was cracked up to be. Natalie was gone for a good few minutes. When she came out, she was still clutching Gillian‟s file. Gillian‟s automatic smile faded when she saw the expression of obvious distress on the woman‟s face. “I‟m so sorry,” Natalie said, wandering over to lay the file back on her desk. “There seems to have been some sort of complication.” Gillian frowned. “Complication?” “With your transfer. Mr. Johnson expresses his regrets, but I‟m afraid we‟ll be unable to use you.” Gillian picked up the purse sitting on the floor beside her and set it in her lap. “I don‟t understand. Aren‟t my papers in order?” Natalie glanced at the file. “I‟m sure they are. He didn‟t look.” “Can I at least speak to him and find out what the problem is? If the Acherton office overlooked something, maybe I can straighten it out.” The distressed look turned pale. “You can‟t see him.” “Why not? I left my other job and drove all the way out here. Surely he can do me the courtesy of seeing me.” “Oh, he saw you out here when I went in to give him the file.” She cast a look at the gold carpet. “He just doesn‟t want you in his office.” She felt a flush of anger rise in her face. “Why not? What‟s wrong with me?” “I don‟t know.” “So what am I supposed to do now?”
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“I can contact corporate, see if they have any openings elsewhere.” “Back in Acherton?” A guilty look flashed. “Actually, no. I was told that they‟re downsizing your department. Your position would have been eliminated within six months.” Gillian‟s eyes goggled. She‟d never had a clue. “But this is the only other office in this part of the state, right?” “In the entire state, period.” A pulse throbbed in Gillian‟s temples. She stood, clutching her bag. “Then like it or not, I really do need to see Mr. Johnson.” “That‟s not possible. He was quite adamant about not admitting you.” Thoughts flew so fast through Gillian‟s brain that her head began to whirl. “I‟ve never even been here before. How can he take that kind of rude attitude?” She shrugged. “Maybe he had some kind of experience with you at another office?” Gillian‟s teeth ground together. “I assure you, if he saw me at any office, my record has always been above standard.” “Then I can‟t help you. I‟ll admit his approach has been a bit unorthodox, but—” Gillian cut her off. “Unethical‟s more like it.” She stared daggers at the door, wishing it would implode. Natalie skirted around her desk and laid a well-manicured hand on her phone. “Shall I place that call to the head office?” “No. I‟ll call them myself. After I have a word with your boss.” Gillian stormed the closed door, half prepared to break it down if she were to find it locked. “Wait!” Natalie shouted, but Gillian ignored her. She ploughed straight through the door into a wood-paneled office. Behind an oversized, kidney-shaped desk sat a large, tan chair that was turned away from her to face a rear window. “I‟m sorry, sir,” Natalie said in an exasperated, winded tone over Gillian‟s shoulder. “I told her she couldn‟t come in.” “It‟s all right. I‟ll see Miss Winters for a moment.” Gillian slung her purse over her shoulder and fisted her hips “Gee, that‟s real big of you. I can see what a busy man you are.” “Close the door.” Something in the tone of his request prickled the hairs at the back of her neck, but she did as she was asked before wandering across the plush gold carpet toward his desk. The office reflected the same open feel as the rest of the place, though with larger potted trees in the corners and a fish tank that spanned a good three feet of the right wall. Everything was honey oak, shining from recessed lighting spotlights overhead. The welcoming feel hardly suited the man who didn‟t even have the decency to face her. Wall torches, manacles and an iron maiden would be a better fit.
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“You can‟t be here, Gillian,” the faceless voice said in a tone that was far too personal. “You can‟t work for me. I‟m sorry.” When the chair turned around, the mouth she already held open to spit out her reply dropped wide. “You? How? What are you doing here?” Kent sat in the chair, even more awe-inspiring in person. His crisp white shirt was rolled to the elbow and the top buttons were undone. A navy tie and jacket were tossed onto another chair nearby. “That‟s exactly what I said to myself when I spotted you through the door.” He gestured to a pair of cream-colored leather armchairs in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat.” She adjusted the oversized purse on her shoulder. “I‟ll stand, thanks.” His blue eyes slid over every inch of her, and she flushed when she realized she was dressed in the same outfit she‟d described to him during their naughty cubicle escapade—right down to the prim-and-proper bun. Her hand flew to her head to smooth down flyaways, but dropped it when his eyes followed the movement. She cocked her head. “This isn‟t quite the way I‟d envisioned our first meeting.” Aside from the feel of his smoky gaze lingering over every part of her body that had ached for him since she‟d laid eyes on his video. He snorted. “To say the least.” “So you were really going to have Natalie just toss me out in the street without my ever knowing you were here?” A flicker of guilt clouded his gaze. “Look, this is awkward enough. I didn‟t want to have to confront you here about this.” She frowned. “Confront me? About what?” He held up his hand, which held a cell phone not too dissimilar from hers. She swallowed when he waggled it at her. “Did you think this was your best chance at getting a foot in the door?” He dropped it on the desk and folded his hands over the lap she‟d had far too many nasty thoughts about over the past week. His words struck an odd note. “What are you talking about?” “I get now why you conveniently skated around the topic of your job. You didn‟t want me to know what you were up to.” Her nostrils flared. “You think I knew who you were?” His eyes narrowed. “It seems like a pretty damn big coincidence, striking up an acquaintance with the new boss right before you show up here.” “I had no idea. I told you I thought you were a real male stripper the first time I saw you.” “Which was very flattering and almost convincing.” “So now you think I orchestrated all this? Tell me, how the hell did I manage to make you send me that dirty video by mistake? Mind control?” A muscle worked in his jaw.
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“Well?” “I don‟t know. How do you explain it?” She huffed out a breath. This was beyond bizarre. Here she stood, in the very office she‟d had sordid fantasies about, with the man she‟d yearned to have hold her while they made love in the flesh. Now he was her boss? How was that even possible? The chances of him accidentally dialing her number had to be astronomical. Of all the number combinations in their area code, it seemed impossible. Then the obvious answer flashed. “What about this friend you were trying to send that first message to? Is he a Chase Myers employee, too?” Kent nodded. She threw her hands up. “There! Don‟t you see? You said you had to retype the last digits of his number by hand when you dropped your phone that night.” His piercing eyes shifted to the phone and back to her. “Yeah. So?” She dug her cell out and held it up. “All our company phones have similar numbers. You dialed mine by mistake because it must be very close to his.” Kent nodded to her hand. “That‟s not a standard company phone. You wouldn‟t be able to receive video texts on the handsets issued below management.” She rolled her eyes. “Doesn‟t anyone else know about my workaround? I bought this for myself as a birthday present and had it activated to accept the company SIM.” He blinked at her. “That was clever.” “Damn straight. So go ahead, check my number against his.” He picked up his phone, and with whip-like speed shuffled through menu options. She tried not to remember some more pleasant advantages to his speedy phone fingers. “Shit,” he said after a moment. “Am I right?” “Yours is one number off. Why didn‟t I think of that?” “Most people don‟t bother memorizing numbers anymore. We rely on our built-in address books.” She offered a self-satisfied smile. He nodded. “So when you realized that‟s what I had done, you knew I was somehow attached to the company. That‟s why you contacted me back.” She growled. “What? That‟s ridiculous. First, it never dawned on me that your friend‟s number was related to Chase Myers until just now. Second, just because you sent a text to a company phone doesn‟t mean you work there. That text was a personal message to a friend. Quite personal.” She stopped to glower at him, and had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of guilt. “Hardly a business text, eh? And your phone isn‟t a company-issued one, is it? The number isn‟t remotely similar.” “No,” he said, sounding reluctant. “I prefer to use my own phone.” “So how the hell would I have pegged you as the boss of the West Grove office?”
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He stared at her for several moments, turning his phone over repeatedly in one hand. Then he set it down and pushed back in his chair, the leather squeaking when he stood. He strode around the desk toward her, and she couldn‟t help but notice how well-fitted his charcoal-colored slacks were. On video, she‟d seen Kent‟s rippling, muscled form—a far cry from what she‟d expect from a man who sat in boardrooms all day. What she hadn‟t realized was how tall he was. All the moisture in her mouth evaporated when he stopped a few feet away, staring down at her from a good several inches above her head. “You‟re right,” he said. “I‟m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Somehow, the admission while he towered over her made her feel that much smaller. “An understandable mistake,” she managed. “It does seem like an almost impossible coincidence.” He stared at her with a dour expression that her attempt at a smile failed to lighten. “Hey, it could have been worse,” she went on. “You could have sent that video to a head office VP instead of a lowly office clerk.” His eyes flew open with a panicked gasp. She shrugged. “So, now that we‟ve got that behind us, when do I start?” The way he ran his hands through his hair was almost identical to the version on his video, minus the ecstatic expression. “You don‟t.” She folded her arms. “I thought you believed me?” “It doesn‟t matter. I can‟t hire a woman I‟m in a relationship with.” “Phone relationship.” “Whatever.” “Why does it matter? Am I suddenly less qualified for my job because you‟re interested in dating me?” “I wasn‟t kidding when I said shit was hitting the fan here. Getting things cleaned up has been intense and ugly. A lot of my methods haven‟t been popular, let me tell you. I let a lot of people go who weren‟t cutting it. The last thing I need is a corporate scandal over how the new boss cleaned house so he could give hiring preference to employees willing to suck his cock.” Her stomach tightened, and not in the good sense Kent normally evoked. “I‟ve never sucked your cock.” “I said „willing to‟. And you‟re more than willing.” The tone took on a trace of his trademark smolder, and the stare that went with it shot right through her. “We barely know one another,” she said with a croak, wishing she sounded more convincing. “No? I‟ve never laid a hand on you, but I feel like we‟ve been more intimate than any lover I‟ve taken in quite some time. I don‟t know why.” Words refused to form in her dry throat, and she dropped her arms to her sides, fists tight to resist the urge to bridge the gap between them. “You have to understand the position this puts me in, Gillian.” 36
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She lifted her chin. “Sorry, but I don‟t.” “How about a potential sexual harassment lawsuit? How about corporate fraternization policy? Office gossip? Or the fact that workplace romances are rarely smart, especially when one partner is the boss?” “Lots of couples own joint businesses.” He shot her a skeptical look. “You know this isn‟t the same thing.” “I know that I‟m a professional, and I came here to do a professional job. I‟m assuming that‟s what you came here for, too. Can‟t we just leave it at that?” “Professional job?” The tone carried an amused almost-sneer. “What exactly do you file it under when you sit at your desk on company time, using the company phone to text personal, X-rated messages to your boyfriend?” He averted his gaze for a moment as the word slipped out. Was that what he considered himself—her boyfriend? She shook the thought away. “Oh, so now you‟re worried about my use of work time? Funny, you didn‟t seem to care about that before.” “I wasn‟t your boss before.” “So you‟re firing me for something you yourself are guilty of?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I‟m not firing you. I‟m refusing to hire you.” “Since I already work for this company and no longer have my old position, that‟s pretty much semantics, isn‟t it?” “I can put in a word for you with the head office, see if they can fit you in elsewhere.” “Oh, no.” Her tone cranked up in both volume and sarcasm. “You can‟t do that. Put in a word and they might think it‟s because I‟ve „fit you in‟ between my legs on company time.” He closed the distance and took hold of her upper arms. “Would you keep your voice down? See, this is why the situation can‟t work.” “So I‟m a situation now?” “We’re a situation. Chase Myers has a policy against supervisors getting involved with subordinates. Fraternization drama is not what a failing business needs.” Despite the ugly turn things had taken between them, the feel of his hands on her after all the times she‟d imagined it did not disappoint. His warm, strong hands seemed to radiate sexual energy, and the scent of his spicy aftershave filled her head until her stomach tingled and her legs grew weak. “Things are really that bad here?” He nodded. “At all the offices. Which is something I‟m trying my damnedest to fix. That‟s a confidence I trust will not leave this room.”
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Her breaths came in shallow gasps while she tried not to let the intensity of his gaze draw her in any further. If she did, she might get up on tiptoe right now and kiss him. “If the head office had another position,” she said, wishing to god she didn‟t sound so dreamy and breathless, “it would be an entirely different state. Is that really what you expect me to do, Kent? Pack up and hit the road because I got charmed into chatting with you after an accidental text you sent?” She searched his clouded gaze. “Is having me gone really what you want?” Her voice broke on the last word, and the room blurred with rising tears. Damn him. She hadn‟t wanted him to see weakness. She‟d hoped to convince him she could do the job. “Jesus, don‟t cry.” He gripped her arms tighter. “That‟s not what I want. I‟m sorry, Gillian. I‟m sorry I fucked things up for you by sending that ridiculous video.” A hiccupped laugh came out of her and she wrenched out of his arms. “So, you‟re not sorry about the job, but for getting involved with me in the first place? That‟s great. Thanks for clearing up what you really meant when you texted this morning to say you‟re falling for me.” Her eyes widened. “You didn‟t watch the video I sent back, did you?” “No. I had an 8:30 business appointment with a new hire.” He gave her a pointed look. “Didn‟t think it‟d be very professional to get caught watching dirty videos at work with my pants down.” “Then feel free to delete that one. In fact, I rather insist that you do.” Gillian turned on her heel and stalked back to the door, sniffling back tears. Kent slid in front of her, his own eyes wild. “Wait. Don‟t go.” She huffed out a breath. “First, you try to fire me without even letting me in here. Now you don‟t want me to leave? Which is it?” He closed his eyes. “Both. Neither. Hell, I don‟t know. I just don‟t want us to leave things like this.” She laughed. “A bit late for that, isn‟t it? You assumed I was a no-good schemer, and though I proved otherwise I‟m apparently still not good enough to work for you. Considering my record and your apparent desperation for staff, that‟s quite a slap. To top it off, now that you‟ve seen me in person, I‟ve fallen so short of your expectations that you‟re sorry you ever got personal with me. I think that about sums up where I stand.” He pushed her backward by the shoulders, away from the door. “That‟s not it. Now that I‟ve seen you, all I can think about are the things I dream about doing to you. That‟s not a very professional way for a boss to behave.” Her stomach somersaulted. “You said you were sorry you ever texted me.” “I‟m not sorry about that. I‟m completely taken by you.” When she licked her dry lips, he growled and bent down to them. “I wanted our first meeting to be so perfect,” he whispered against them. “I‟ve thought about it a thousand times.”
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Her heart skipped at the sensation of his hot breath on her mouth and his heady, male scent. “Yeah? I‟ve got that beat. I had our entire first date mapped out play-byplay.” He pulled back enough to catch her eyes. “Play-by-play? You make the wedding sound like a sporting event.” “Oh, there were going to be sports. Right at the wedding.” His Adam‟s apple bobbed. “What kind of sports? Where?” She shook her head. “You can‟t leave me hanging on that. You have to tell me.” The sudden shift back to the Kent she knew spun her head. How stupid it would be to share her ridiculous first-date fantasy with the guy she couldn‟t be with or work for. But she couldn‟t refuse those eyes, let alone that sultry, commanding voice. Her voice shook despite the calming breath she tried. “I figured we‟d talk on the way there. Light, flirty small talk. You of course tell me how beautiful I look, and your eyes keep leaving the road to flick over to the plunging neckline of my silky lavender dress. I make sure my hand brushes your arm accidentally a couple times, to test out the chemistry I‟ve felt with you in every text and phone call.” She turned and headed toward his desk to try to outrun his rabid stare. “I‟m not at all disappointed by the electric jolt of your touch.” “I‟m definitely feeling your vibe,” he said. “Go on.” “Once we get there, I‟m seated on the groom‟s side as a personal nod to his role in our meeting. Then you have to rush off to play best man.” “Hmm. I‟m seeing a flaw in my idea for our first date. I suppose I‟ll be tied up for a while.” She shrugged as she dropped her purse in one of the club chairs in front of his desk. “True, but then you come out in front of the guests to stand beside the groom, and I‟m completely stunned speechless by the sight of you in a tuxedo.” She turned back to face him. “There was going to be a tuxedo, right?” He nodded, moving closer. She smiled as the imagery came. “Hot men in tuxedos are damn irresistible, and I can‟t stop staring. Our eyes connect all throughout the ceremony, because you feel my intense gaze practically undressing you.” The way his was doing to her now. “Afterward, the wedding party is whisked away for photos, and I find myself a seat at the reception to wait while sipping champagne. When you show up, your eyes seek mine right away while you‟re seated at the head table.” Now Kent was frowning. “Damn, I really didn‟t think through how little time I‟d get with you. Shittiest date plan ever.” She laughed. “Oh, no. Because now I still get to stare at you, my stomach getting all tingly with alcohol, while you act suave and charming as a best man. Women give big points for that.”
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His grin shot a stab of longing between her thighs. “Really?” “Big time. The champagne makes me feel so warm and loose that I let my hair down while you get ready for the wedding toast.” Kent‟s eyes slid along the lines of her bun. “I‟d love to see that.” She hesitated, then reached behind her and pulled out the tortoiseshell spring clip. She shook her head to let her hair fall loose and wild around her face. Kent‟s lips parted in a silent gasp. Gillian rounded his desk and sat down in his chair, rubbing her hands over the supple leather arms. “While you‟re delivering an impressively eloquent toast to the bride and groom, you look over and notice that a dribble of champagne inadvertently spills from my flute. When I reach my fingers into the cleavage of my plunging neckline to wipe the drip from my breasts, you stammer and almost forget your speech.” He continued to advance on her like a panther stalking prey. “And no doubt my name along with it.” She gave him a seductive smile, swallowing down the pulse fluttering in her throat. “The wedding party has to dance with each other next, and I watch with rapt fascination while you twirl the maid of honor effortlessly around the dance floor. She‟s totally hot for you, and desperately rubs her cheesy bridesmaid dress all over your tux. But you just keep staring at me over her shoulder.” He stopped at the edge of the desk to shoot her a skeptical grin. “Your fantasy involves a rival woman rubbing on me?” She nodded. “Of course I have to accept the fact that every woman there wants you—even the bride‟s ancient grandmother.” He made a face at that. “And I‟m allowed to dance with the apparently hot-for-me maid of honor?” “Oh, my watching you dance is a vital part of this fantasy, since my first introduction to you involved seeing the incredible way you can move that body.” His growl lit a fire inside her. “We all had to take dance lessons for the wedding. Hopefully I wouldn‟t disappoint.” Kent was rounding the desk now. Gillian closed her eyes and reached her hands up on either side of her to grip the cushiony head rest of his chair. “Then, with my head whirling from champagne and my stomach quivering from hours of drooling over how sexy you look, you finally take me into your arms on that dance floor.” She swiveled his chair from side to side in a gentle sway. His footsteps grew closer, and suddenly she was afraid to meet his eyes. She left hers closed, pretending this was another longdistance phone call in which they could speak as wildly as they wanted without her losing her job because they couldn‟t keep their urges in check. “As soon as I‟m inside your embrace,” she went on, “I know that every bit of anticipation I‟ve felt, every ounce of attraction I‟ve sensed between us is not only real, but explosive. You whisper in my ear how every minute you had to wait to be near me
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was torment, and how hard your cock has been since you started watching me during the ceremony.” “Every single moment I‟ve waited to be near you has been torment.” Kent‟s voice was a seductive whisper just beside her ear, and she gripped the chair back harder while a wave of goose bumps prickled the hair on her arms. A warm hand slid over one of hers and guided it to a stiff bulge in the front of his slacks. “And this is how hard my cock has been every time I‟ve thought of you.” Her eyes were still shut while she let out a tiny gasp at the feel of his rock-hard bulge in her hand. She squeezed and felt his cock throb with the same pulse that echoed through her clit. He pushed her hair aside and let his lips wander over her ear, nibbling the lobe while chills shot down her spine. Her nipples jutted against the silky fabric of her bra. She groaned and rubbed the front of his pants harder. “Is this what happens next in your wedding fantasy?” he asked through gritted teeth, letting his hand skim down her shoulder and along her arm. A thumb grazed the outer edge of her breast on the way. “You start kissing me right on the dance floor,” she breathed, “right in front of everyone. When our hands can‟t stop from wandering indecently anymore, you drag me off the floor and out the back of the room. You remember passing a small, dark alcove on the way in, and you pull me into it and press me up against the wall.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “God, Gillian, no woman has ever made me this crazy.” She opened her mouth to continue, but he laid a warm finger across her lips. Her eyes flew open to find his dark and unreadable. “No more talk,” he said. “No more fantasies. I want what‟s real. I want you.” Their mouths met with fervor, and Gillian sat forward to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands slid beneath her sweater to find her round, swollen breasts. He squeezed them and groaned against her lips, sending a slick, musky flow of cunt juices into her pantyhose. She wriggled her ass on the seat and moaned while he ran his thumbs over her stiff nipples. The disastrous exchange leading up to this moment was forgotten. The familiar fantasy of seducing Kent until he was driven to take her in his office took over. Although in her version, he either had her bent over the desk or had dropped his pants so she could suck him off while he sat in the chair. He pulled her bra cups down beneath her breasts and pinched her nipples to elicit a moan she tried hard to keep silent in case any listening ears hovered outside the door. She unhooked her arms from his neck and slid them down his hard, muscled back and lean hips around front to find the fly of his pants. His cock jumped and strained behind the zipper, and she fumbled in her rush to get it out and into her waiting hands. “My god, Gillian,” he said through ragged breaths. “I want to come just from feeling that you‟re really flesh and blood.” His hand slid down between her legs, probing her damp curls through her nylons just as she got his hot erection in both hands. She gasped both at his touch and the hard,
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veined flesh she now held. Jesus, she hadn‟t fully realized how good it would feel to wrap her hand around his shaft. She licked her lips as she smelled his tangy scent, dying to wrap her lips where her fingers were milking and squeezing. “I want you,” he whispered into her ear while his hand dipped inside her nylons to slide down to her soaking-wet slit. “Right now, before I explode.” She moaned in gratitude and lifted her hips so he could push his large fingers into her hot and eager cunt. “Please, Kent.” A single, loud ring and familiar female voice erupted in the room, and both Kent and Gillian jerked back. “Excuse me, Mr. Johnson?” Natalie asked over his phone speaker. Kent muttered a curse under his breath and reached over, still on his knees, to press a button. “Yes?” “Your nine fifteen is here.” Kent heaved a sigh. “Fine. Give me five minutes.” He gave a panting, aching Gillian a long, measuring look and shook his head. “Fuck. What am I doing? I knew this couldn‟t work.” When he stood, her eyes widened at the brief flash of his cock before he turned away. “Oh, I don‟t know,” she said, pulling down her sweater. “I thought it was working rather spectacularly.” Kent tucked in his shirt and zipped up his fly, still facing away from her. “I mean you being here.” His voice had regained the irritated edge from earlier. “I couldn‟t keep my hands off you for five minutes in the middle of explaining why you can‟t work here. What the hell would I do if I knew you were under this roof every day?” “Thank your lucky stars?” She got up and glowered at his back while she snatched her hair clip from his desk. “This isn‟t a joke, Gillian.” He turned back, all traces of his earlier longing replaced by firm resignation. “I can‟t operate a business where I can‟t control myself around employees. There‟s too much at stake for the company and my reputation. That‟s why they have rules about this sort of thing.” She twisted her hair into a coil behind her and stuck the clip over the edges to hold the bun in place. “Wow, with all that concern about your business reputation you might have thought twice about sending pornographic videos to coworkers.” “By accident.” “No. The man it was intended for also works for Chase Myers, remember?” His face went stiff. “He was a colleague—another manager. And like I told you, I wasn‟t thinking straight when I made that video. I‟d been drinking.”
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“Ah, so you‟re a drunk and a pervert. That sounds much more like boardroom material.” She pushed past him and rounded the desk to grab her purse off the club chair. “I can do this job. You need people who can do this job.” “You can get secretarial work anywhere, Gillian. Why does it have to be here?” “I don‟t want secretarial work. I want R&D.” He stared at her. “You weren‟t being hired for R&D.” “Not yet, but I was up for the promotion at Acherton. It went to a male colleague, just like most of the promotions over there. Thought I might get a better shot over here.” She fished through her purse, for one insane moment seeking her cell phone so she could text Kent on her way out. He‟d been such a constant part of her stress relief lately that she‟d automatically sought that out to ease her tension. With a pang of loss, she closed her hand around her keys instead. “You think typing sales reports and projections gives you what it takes to input ideas into research and development?” Gillian snorted. “No, I think my creative, solutions-based thinking, industrial design and business schooling, and two years volunteering on extra projects to learn the company inside out gives me some damn interesting perspectives on research and development.” She dangled her keys in her hand and glared at him. “Did you even read my file?” He shrugged. “I was told you were a clerk typist and could compile reports.” “I can do a lot of things for this company. Too bad you think you have the luxury of tossing that kind of talent away because you‟re afraid your zipper might twitch when you see me at the water cooler.” She felt a sick twist in her stomach while she headed for the door. “You know, I‟d really hoped I could start over fresh here, finally show this company what I‟m worth. I‟m sorry that you of all people won‟t give me that chance.” Gillian ignored Natalie‟s wide-eyed, inquisitive stare while she stormed past her desk and that of the pointy-faced man waiting in a crisp suit nearby. The nine fifteen appointment, no doubt. He‟d probably wind up with her job. She was back out the door to her future less than an hour after she‟d opened it. On her way to the car, teeth clenching tighter with every step, she took out her cell phone and punched up a number. She definitely needed support before she could calm down enough to make the hellish drive back to Acherton. It was high time she phoned Dahlia and confessed her recent sins.
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Chapter Six Dahlia bustled through the door of Gillian‟s apartment. “Got here as soon as I could,” she said in a rushed tone. “I ordered pizza delivery on the way over, by the way. Figured you wouldn‟t have a fabulous hot meal waiting.” Gillian closed the door against the cool evening air. “I would have, but my apron‟s at the cleaner‟s. I made fresh coffee, though.” Dahlia eyed her up and down while she shrugged off her lightweight black coat and hung it up on the wall peg in Gillian‟s entry. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Oh, geez.” “What?” Gillian asked. “So, I didn‟t dress up.” Or comb her hair since this morning‟s shower. Or bother with makeup. A t-shirt, faded jeans and purple slipper socks was as good as Dahlia was getting. Meanwhile, Dahlia looked hot as ever, trim and crisp in a tailored black blazer and matching skirt. “Not just that,” Dahlia said. “I mean you‟re wearing the shirt.” Gillian glanced down at her tight brown t-shirt. “What‟s wrong with it?” “Anytime you wear that, you‟re in a shit for a mood.” “According to you I‟m always in a shit for a mood. Besides, I think it‟s funny.” “Cancel my subscription, I’m sick of your issues? That isn‟t funny. It‟s a cry for help. Now, my Camel Toe Firing Squad shirt—that’s funny.” The pair wandered into the kitchen to grab mugs of coffee before retreating to Gillian‟s favorite place—her earthy living room. “Did I remember to thank you for coming over to make me feel better?” Gillian asked. “Not since I‟ve known you.” “You might want to think about why that is.” They plopped down on opposite ends of her beige sofa and Gillian glanced around the room. Chair and couch cushions were perfectly fluffed, the walnut coffee table gleamed, and the contemporary brown-and-gold throw rug she loved had just been vacuumed. Her bookshelves had been painstakingly dusted, as were the few tchotchkes on display. At least Dahlia couldn‟t bitch about the house looking as drab as Gillian felt. She‟d scrubbed every inch of it in the three days since her unscheduled launch from Chase Myers. The faint aroma of lemony furniture polish was still evident above the scented candle burning on her fireplace mantle. “Smells damn good in here,” Dahlia said, echoing Gillian‟s thoughts. The woman nodded at the jar candle. “Is that the cinnamon apple?” “Caramel sticky bun.”
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“It‟s heaven. But it‟s also making me hungrier.” Gillian jumped up and strolled to her purse. “Which reminds me. I‟ll pay for the pizza, since I‟m the one who needed the morale-boost house call.” “Dutch is fine with me.” With a nod, Gillian pulled out a few bills and stuffed them in her jeans. “Is he still calling?” Dahlia asked. Gillian stiffened as her gaze fell to the phone lying in her purse. In the past few days, she had rarely taken it out. “And texting.” “What does he say?” She joined Dahlia back on the couch. “I don‟t know. I haven‟t read the texts or listened to the messages.” Dark eyes regarded her. “You‟re not even the slightest bit curious?” With a shrug she pulled off the black plastic headband that was digging into her scalp. “Doesn‟t matter if I am or not. I was fun for him to toy with for a week, but he doesn‟t want to take me seriously either as an employee or a girlfriend. So who cares?” “You‟re being a hard nose.” She glared at Dahlia. “Are you on my side or not?” “Of course I‟m on your side. He‟s a dirtbag. A slimy, two-timing limp dick. A noaccount excuse for a man who—” Gillian raised a hand to cut her off. “Okay, okay. No need to go overboard.” She tossed her hair back and slid the plastic band back into place. “I get the point.” Dahlia sipped her coffee, leaving a perfect red lipstick print on the rim. “Just so we‟re clear that I‟m here for you. Still, even if I didn‟t answer the guy‟s calls, I‟d be dying to know just how low on his belly he was willing to grovel.” An unladylike snort punctuated the silence. “Grovel? Kent‟s idea of groveling in his office turned right around and snapped at me like a two-headed snake. We wound up right back where we started.” Only worse, really, because by that time it was no longer a matter of wondering what it might have been like to be in his arms. She‟d gotten a big dose of his fiery, live passion. That was much harder to banish from her thoughts during long, lonely nights than memories of a sexy phone voice and magic texting fingers. “I still can‟t believe you acted like such a brazen little tramp, and right under my nose. You hot little bitch, you.” “It wasn‟t that bad.” Eyebrows arched. “Please. You let the guy remote-vibrate you right at your desk. Even I‟m not brave enough to try that one.” “It was in a cubicle, and during lunch hour.” “It was damn slutty of you, and I love it.” She leaned her head back a moment and closed her eyes. “If only Todd would send me an accidental video of his ass gyrating 45
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around in a G-string. Maybe I should take the plunge and get a better phone, like yours.” “You saw how much good that did me.” “I still can‟t believe my poor, dateless best friend was getting her rocks off right at our job.” She flashed a look that was simultaneously admiring and accusatory. “Damn, that‟s sexy. And you were seeing a guy behind my back.” “I wasn‟t seeing him. It was a phone relationship, and a brief one at that.” “There was the video. You saw that.” Dahlia gasped. “Say, do you still have it? Can I see?” Gillian scowled. “No! Well, yes. I still have it. But I don‟t watch it anymore. And I‟m absolutely not showing it to you.” Dahlia laughed. “Just as I thought. You‟re still protective of him.” “So?” “So, you still have a yen on for the guy. If you were really finished with the bastard, you‟d have that video up on YouTube so everyone could point and laugh at his tiny pee-pee.” “Nothing on that man is tiny. Besides, it wouldn‟t be my style. I‟m not vindictive.” “Every woman is vindictive when pushed to the right place by the wrong guy.” Dahlia took another swig of coffee. As with any true caffeine addict worth their salt, the woman didn‟t even set the mug down between chugs. “His dick is big, eh? You never did say just how hot he is.” Gillian‟s stomach wavered between somersaults and half-twists. Maybe inviting Dahlia over to talk wasn‟t such a great idea. She hadn‟t even been able to bring herself to file for unemployment, let alone process Kent enough into the past to make him a casual topic du jour. “He didn‟t feel like the wrong guy,” she said, fingering the handle of her I Hate Mondays mug. “Why the hell did he have to turn out to be the boss at West Grove?” “Yeah. That was just about the most bizarre thing I ever heard.” “I know. The odds of meeting him that way are mind-blowing.” “Not that. I mean Kent not jumping for joy when he saw it was you coming for the job.” Gillian shot her a sideways glance. “He definitely didn‟t do that.” Dahlia pursed her lips. “Well, he should have. Most men would have hired the woman indulging their cellular fantasies on the spot. They‟d take full advantage of having their texting fuck buddy right at the office. I don‟t get why he didn‟t snap that opportunity up.” “Because he didn‟t want me, obviously. I must not have measured up to his vision of me when we were text buddies.”
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“I don‟t think that‟s true. You admitted things got hot and wet at his desk until that nosy bitch of a secretary buzzed in.” “Maybe for a minute. But his job is much more important. I guess I can‟t begrudge him that part. We barely know each other. Plus he‟s worried enough about the place as it is.” She paused, realizing she almost blurted out information about Chase Myers that Kent had asked her to keep confidential. She shouldn‟t care about being loyal to him— or to the company. Maybe Dahlia had a right to know. Her job might be in jeopardy, too. Although, since she was one of the company penny scrapers, Dahlia would probably be among the last to go. “He‟s an idiot for letting you go.” Dahlia tilted her head. “Which he might already have realized. Did it occur to you that could be why he keeps calling?” “So? Let him call.” “Ooh. I thought you said you weren‟t vindictive?” She shot her a look and was about to declare an official change of subject when a sharp knock interrupted at the front door. “Pizza at last,” Dahlia said. She dug through the purse at her feet and pulled out a few bills. Gillian grabbed them and added them to the ones from her pocket. “Be right back.” She rushed to the door, trying not to slide on the entryway linoleum in her socks. She pulled open the door without thinking and thrust out the bills in her hand. “Perfect timing,” she said with a chipper lilt. “I‟m starved.” The hand she held out crumpled the dollar bills when she finally registered who was standing at her door. “Sorry,” Kent said, staring at her outstretched money with a puzzled look. “If I‟d have known you were hungry, I‟d have brought something.” Gillian cursed herself for having the audacity to melt at how unbelievably good he looked, standing there in tight blue jeans and a maroon-and-white-striped shirt that was open at the neck. He appeared freshly shaved, with his hair combed neatly back. She looked like something the day had dragged behind its wheels for several miles. She yanked her hand back. “What are you doing here?” “You won‟t answer your phone.” The way he stared at her made her doubly pissed off that she hadn‟t thought to dress up for Dahlia‟s visit. Maybe get her nails done while she was at it. And some highlights. “Yeah, well, my phone hasn‟t exactly gotten me ahead in life lately.” She cocked her head. “How did you even find me? I never gave you my address.” “I read your file.” “Ah. Now he reads it.” She smoothed the front of her t-shirt, as though that would streamline her look into something couture. His gaze fastened to her breasts, which brought a rush of heat to her
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face until she realized he was reading the shirt motto. One side of his mouth broke into the barest quirk of a grin. “Can I come in?” he asked. She clutched the edge of the door tighter. “What for?” “I hoped we could talk.” Christ, why did his eyes have to be so blue that her stomach erupted in butterflies when they met hers? “You said all I needed to hear in your office the other day.” He rubbed his hands together, and she fought off the stab of guilt at leaving him standing outside in the cold evening air. Served him right after the cold reception she‟d been given at the other Chase Myers. “About that,” he said. “I wanted a chance to explain why I reacted the way I did.” She shrugged. “I got it in the CliffsNotes. You don‟t want me around your job because you‟re a big sleaze—or at least, you don‟t want people to think you are. The end.” “Just let me come in. I drove two hours to get here because I regret how things turned out. I hate not talking to you.” Her stomach clenched at his almost-desperate tone, but she set her jaw. “Why should I? As I seem to recall, I drove two hours for you to not let me in—and you tried to have your secretary give me the news. Real high class.” Kent let out a sigh. “I said I was sorry. I panicked when I saw you there. I didn‟t know what else to do that wouldn‟t cause an ugly scene.” He stepped closer into the doorway, towering over her. She caught the musky scent of fresh cologne. Waves of warmth radiated off him, despite the chill in the air. “Please, Gillian. Five minutes. I‟ll leave after that if you want me to.” She swallowed and let go of the door. No doubt she would regret this. “Fine.” The door closed behind her as he followed her in. They wandered to the living room. She stopped, but Kent kept going toward Dahlia, who was still sipping from her mug. When she glanced up and spotted Kent, her eyes went wide over the brim. She choked on her coffee. “I‟m guessing you‟re not the pizza guy?” “Kent Johnson.” He held his hand out to her, but Dahlia sat dumbstruck with her mug frozen in midair. “And you are?” Something flickered in Dahlia‟s eyes at the name, then she suddenly reanimated. “Leaving.” The mug thunked down on the coffee table, missing the coaster she hadn‟t used by several inches. She snatched up her purse and got up from the couch. “Nice meeting you, Kent.” She leaned around him to where Gillian cowered behind his bulk, with her arms crossed tight over her breasts. “See me out, Gilly?” The request sounded more like a threat. “Dahlia, wait,” Gillian said, with a note of pleading. “You don‟t have to go.”
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“I just remembered I left the water running on the stove, or some shit. Come on.” She glanced back at Kent. With a sigh, Gillian nodded. She cleared her throat in an attempt to find her voice, which was lodged beneath a lump of tension in her throat. “Have a seat, Kent. I‟ll be right back.” The two women walked to the door in silence. Dahlia grabbed her coat off the wall hook and tugged it on. “That‟s him?” she whispered through clenched teeth. Gillian nodded. She opened the door and stepped out. “You didn‟t tell me he was a fuckin‟ Norse god.” “Greek god‟s more what I thought.” “No way. Norse were taller.” Dahlia shot another look toward the living room. “If you don‟t go get that inhumanly sexy hunk back right now, I‟m never speaking to your ass again.” Gillian shook her head. “Gee, thanks again for your unwavering support. I‟m not the one who dumped him, remember?” Dahlia gave her a pointed look. “He‟s here, isn‟t he? Don‟t fuck it up.” She sashayed off in her backless heels, leaving Gillian alone with Kent and her uncontrollably pounding heart. When she turned around, she couldn‟t bring herself to walk any farther than the edge of her kitchen. From there she saw Kent, who wasn‟t sitting down like she‟d offered. His size almost overwhelmed her modest living room while he towered over her mantle, staring down at the photos propped there. The wobble in her heartbeat brought a moment‟s dizziness that she shook off. “Would you like some coffee?” “No thanks.” He turned with a photo in hand. “Is this your mom and sister?” She nodded. “Last Christmas, up at the cabin I told you about.” “I can see the resemblance. Nice family.” He set it back gently and turned to her with his hands resting loosely in his pockets. “It smells like you‟re baking in here.” “It‟s just the candle behind you.” Feeling a sudden burst of stupidity, she blurted, “I can bake. I just haven‟t been much in the mood lately.” His eyes burned through her. “Not because of me, I hope.” She shrugged, wondering why her feet refused to move away from the kitchen entrance when he‟d already said he didn‟t want coffee. “There are a lot of reasons.” “I‟m sorry if I‟m one of them.” “You didn‟t exactly put the Betty Crocker back in me.” A smile twitched, but he quickly suppressed it. He gave her a weighted look, then sat down on the sofa facing away from her. She narrowed her eyes at the back of his
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head. Smart strategy he‟d just played. The best way to get her away from the front door and into the room was for him to sit where she couldn‟t see or easily hear him. Stifling an irritated groan, she wandered over to the sitting area. Her coffee sat on an end table, and she grabbed it on the way. Taking a seat beside him on the sofa was out of the question, so she skirted past the coffee table to sit in one of the matching armchairs. “So, you wanted five minutes,” she said. “Thanks for letting me in. I wasn‟t sure I should try busting in the door like you did at my office.” Cradling her mug in both hands failed to hide the slight shake when she lifted the cup to her lips, and she hoped he didn‟t notice. She set the cup down on Dahlia‟s abandoned coaster and tried not to imagine the white heat ring forming on the wood grain beneath the other woman‟s mug. “If this five minutes of yours is to apologize, I‟m not sure what good it will do. You already tried back at your office, and things still didn‟t end well for me.” “I‟m not here to apologize.” She shot him a look, and he added, “For the most part. I‟m here to offer you a job.” “So, you‟ve had a change of heart?” About me, she was afraid to add. “Yes. I‟d be a fool to let someone with your qualifications slip through Chase Myers‟ fingers.” Understanding dawned. Now that he‟d sampled her, he‟d obviously realized it would be a simple matter to keep his hands off her after all. Ending their fraternization would negate the corporate dating policy for managers. Then there‟d be no reason to deny his flagging business Gillian‟s paper-shuffling skills. How nice that he could forget her so easily. If only she had the wits to do the same. She tucked her legs beneath her and stared at the candle flame flickering in the glass jar on the mantle. Could she do it? Spend weekends looking for a place near West Grove? Make the more than two-hour drive every day in the meantime to sit at a desk and pretend not to notice Kent when he walked by? Forget how he‟d made her feel for an incredible week and a half? Try not to explode in frustration when his eventual nonChase-Myers girlfriend showed up to share picnic lunches in his office? “I admit I thought you might have a faster answer for me,” he said. “You were so adamant about being given a chance to do the job. But if you need time, that‟s fine.” The candle did a slow-burning dance that she watched halfheartedly. When she tried to inhale the comforting aroma, however, Kent‟s heady, male scent filled her nostrils instead. She closed her eyes and tried to picture a life where Kent was in her daily existence without being part of it. It would get easier over time, right? He‟d only been in her life for a couple of weeks, for god‟s sake. She should stop acting like such a damn fool. How had he grabbed such a tight hold on her heart when the only time she‟d seen him in person he had rejected her? “Gillian?” His voice was soft, with a hint of concern. 50
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She blinked and turned to look at him. Maybe if she stared at just one molecule on his face she could render herself immune to the chiseled lines of his jaw, the sexy curve of his lips and the passionate glow in his eyes. She concentrated on the channel above his upper lip and sucked in a calming breath. “I guess you caught me by surprise.” “A good surprise, I hope?” His lips curved into a smile she had to glance away from. Focusing on the tiny hairs peeking out from the gap of his shirt proved to be a worse idea. So did casting her gaze farther down his body. She gave up and stared at the arm of the sofa instead. “I‟m not sure.” Her voice sounded drowsy, almost as if she were in a dream state. “I‟m not certain I can do it.” His masculine forearm balanced on the sofa arm, leaning toward her. He bent his head down, doing his best to get into her line of vision. “What part?” So much for her sofa arm focal point. She met his eyes and swallowed down the automatic flutter in her pulse. “I thought I could, you know? I wanted the chance bad enough that day that I would have just tried to ignore you completely. But you were right. I can be a secretary anywhere. And then I wouldn‟t have to wonder whether I can trust myself to move on and forget you while still seeing you every day.” There, she‟d said it. Now he knew what a dreamy-eyed schoolgirl she was, proving she was not professional enough to do the job where he was concerned. “I thought you didn‟t want to be a secretary.” The brave smile she flashed lacked conviction. “I want a lot of things I don‟t get. That‟s life, right?” He crossed an ankle across this thigh. “This is quite a change from the go-getter song and dance you gave in my office.” A flare of annoyance burned in her chest, but she didn‟t answer. Kent searched her face. “What happened in Acherton? Why didn‟t you get the promotion you were after?” She shook her head, wishing that her headband—and his questions—weren‟t making her head ache. “I don‟t know. I‟ve gone over it in my mind dozens of times.” She pulled the headband off again and dropped it in her lap. “In the end, the only thing I saw was that the promotion went to the employee with the qualification that seems to matter most at Acherton.” “What qualification‟s that?” “Owning a penis.” He shifted in his seat. “You think they engage in sexism over there.” “It‟s not like I‟m angling to file an accusation. I know you‟re a head honcho with the company yourself. I‟ve just noticed that, if a man and a woman are up for the same position, the man wins most of the time at Acherton.” “Maybe you just didn‟t want it bad enough.”
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She shot him a hard look. “Sorry, but you don‟t know how bad I wanted it. We never even talked about the things I want.” “We talked about some things you want.” The knowing look sent a jolt of longing through her. “Things you‟ve shown me you‟re willing to be quite aggressive about getting.” She gripped the arm of her chair, determined to veer away from the topic of her insane craving for him. “The reason I wanted the subject of work to be off-limits was because of how frustrated I was. The day I got your first text was the day my promotion went to a rival—and to double the blow, I was told I was getting shoved off onto a smaller branch of the company. I figured they were sending me to Siberia, corporately speaking.” He arched his brow. “That‟s how they phrased it to you?” She shrugged. “Not in so many words.” “Let me tell you how it was phrased to me. Head office knew I was desperate for staff, and Acherton is going through some problems of its own. The recommendation that came with your transfer said that you were one of the most valuable employees they‟d ever hired. They transferred you rather than see the company lose you when they wound up cutting back.” Her eyes widened. “My boss said that?” He nodded. “So it surprised me when you mentioned an interest in moving up. I assumed that they would have promoted you over there if you had.” “Maybe they were just being nice to get rid of me.” “I doubt that.” She shrugged. “Either way, you were right about my being able to be a secretary anywhere, and that might be the best thing. But you‟re wrong about my not wanting that promotion bad enough to work my ass off for it.” He sat up. “Good. Because I‟m not offering you reports and projections. I want you in R&D.” Her eyes flew wide. “What?” “I told you I read your file. You definitely have qualifications we could use right now. And a thought process that could shake up some sleepy imaginations in that department.” Gillian‟s temples pulsed in shock. R&D? After all she‟d been through, and after everything Kent had said, he was offering it to her now? “You look rather stunned,” he said. “That‟s putting it mildly. I assumed I‟d have to work my way up over there before I could even make noise about a promotion.” “Seems to me you put in your time paying dues at Acherton. We need strong idea people on our team fast.”
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Her brain opened a committee meeting so loud she could barely think. A job pushing papers around wasn‟t likely worth having to deal with her residual feelings about Kent. But her dream job in R&D? That brought a thought that had her leveling him with a skeptical gaze. “You‟re not offering me this as a concession for rejecting me, are you?” His eyes hardened. “I think you learned enough about how I do business to know I wouldn‟t make that kind of offer.” His trademark hair-push motion followed. “But I realized after you left that you undoubtedly would have come in and made that place your own and applied your talents there until you got into the job you wanted—if I hadn‟t been in your way.” He heaved a sigh. “That‟s what I‟m really offering you, Gillian. The chance to get what you should have had if I hadn‟t been your boss.” Something in the words and the look on his face set off warnings in her mind. “What do you mean? You‟re not leaving?” “Yes and no.” “How yes and how no? I wouldn‟t feel right about you leaving just to give me a shot.” “I‟m leaving the position I‟ve hated since the day I first sat in that chair. I‟m not leaving the company.” “Oh,” she said, trying to make it sound as if she understood. “Johnny‟s going to take back the main helm,” he went on, a gleam in his eye. “Don‟t you see? It works out perfect this way.” “Johnny? You don‟t mean the Johnny, the friend you made the stripper video for?” He nodded. “I‟m going back to head up Finance. You weren‟t the only one who was happy to eighty-six the topic of work, you know. I was tearing my hair out with all the shit going on. Hell, I couldn‟t even make it to Johnny‟s bachelor party because I was up to my neck in corporate crap. Some best man, huh? So he‟ll get his desk when he gets back from his honeymoon, and I‟ll return to my old office.” She couldn‟t help but feel a giddy flutter at the genuine happiness shining out from his eyes. With him over in Finance, maybe she wouldn‟t have to see him as often, either. She wasn‟t certain yet whether she felt better or worse about that. “Bottom line,” he went on, “I‟ll no longer be in your direct chain of command.” She smiled. “That‟s great. I feel better knowing it works out better this way for you.” “Meaning, I‟ll no longer be your boss.” “Got it. I appreciate you opening the way for me. I‟ll definitely take the job.” He leaned close to her, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “Which means you‟re no longer my subordinate.” She leaned closer with a smirk. “Technically, I never was.” “Which lifts the ban on manager-employee fraternization.”
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Gillian swore her heart did a loop-de-loop. “Wait, what? What‟s your point?” “What‟s my point?” He scooted off the sofa onto his knees, pushing himself between her thighs and resting his palms on her chair arms. Even with him kneeling on the rug, he was still eye-to-eye with her. “My point is that I‟ve been going crazy every second that you haven‟t been returning my calls. I can‟t go one more day without you on that cell—and in my arms.” A lead weight thudded in her abdomen that she recognized as a dull flicker of hope that was desperately trying to reignite. “But I thought you didn‟t want me?” He gave an incredulous snort. “Not want you? What gave you that idea? My not being able to keep my hands off you in my office, or the hundred texts and phone calls since I stupidly let you walk out of there?” She shrugged. “I thought you got enough in the office to realize you could just forget me and not have to deal with the issues at work.” “How could I forget you? I‟ve been practically useless at work because I‟ve been spending my time trying to figure out how to give you what you want and still keep you for myself.” “You seemed a lot more concerned about your business reputation, and I can‟t really blame you for that.” “I‟ll admit I was worried. So much so that I didn‟t go after you when you left my office, and I should have. I was afraid of making a scene that would compromise my position.” “So what changed?” The pucker of his lips made her very badly want to kiss him. “The minute you were gone, I didn‟t give a damn about any of that. I realized I was a selfish prick who cared more about a woman I‟d only seen in person once than whether Chase Myers goes belly up. Some boss, huh? I just hadn‟t been thinking straight enough when you were in my office to understand that. I was thrown way off guard when you showed up—especially when I suspected at first that you‟d been using me to get the job. It twisted my head around.” “I told you, I had no idea who you were.” “I know. I believed you, but I wasn‟t rational at that point. I should have acted to preserve what we had, rather than react based on all the shit that was going on at work. I‟m sorry.” An unconscious sigh escaped her lips. “I‟m sorry, too. I should have answered your calls or texts to give you a chance to explain. Guess I was reacting, too.” One of his hands left the chair arm to stroke her cheek, setting off a battalion of goose bumps over her flesh. “In between calls to you and bouts of self-flagellation, I thought up ideas for how to unscrew the situation. When I hit on the obvious solution, I couldn‟t rest until I knew it would pan out. So I called Johnny on his honeymoon and pestered him until he agreed to take his old job back.”
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As hard as she was trying to hold herself together at this news, his hand on her face made it difficult to breathe, and familiar warmth was seeping between her legs. “His honeymoon? I thought the wedding wasn‟t until this weekend?” “They got so stressed out with all the planning and family feuds and work shit that they decided to elope.” She frowned. “Guess you won‟t be wearing that tux after all. What a damn shame.” He licked his lips and her heart skipped. “It‟s on reserve. I‟d hoped I could still make you speechless, if you‟ll agree to come out with me this weekend on our first date.” She shook her head. “No.” A shadow crossed his crystal-blue gaze, and he leaned away from her. “I really fucked things up for us, didn‟t I?” “You really did. But what I mean is, I don‟t want our first date to be this weekend.” She scooted forward until their lips were almost touching, and she fingered the open collar of his shirt. “I want it to be right now.” His voice dropped low. “I think I might be able to arrange that.” The first graze of his lips on hers sent a hot tingle through her, and she uttered a tiny moan of appreciation. She wanted him to crush his mouth against hers and devour her with his tongue, but he pressed maddening, featherlight kisses all along her upper lip, lower lip and jaw until she thought she would go insane. Her doorbell ended the teasing kisses, and she whimpered with increased frustration. “Did Dahlia forget something?” Kent asked in a breathless whisper, his eyes glazed over when she pulled away. “Pizza finally got here, I think.” “Ah.” Kent jumped up and she sucked in a breath at the obvious erection straining along his thigh. He went to the door and brought back a cardboard box that he laid on the dining table just outside the living area. “Ready to dig in?” he asked. “I‟m ready to dig in.” She wandered up to him and nodded to the pizza. “Just not into that.” “You were starving when I showed up.” He pulled open the box and picked up a slice dripping with cheese. She couldn‟t help but notice that pizza took on a whole new erotic dimension when wielded by Kent Johnson. “Share a couple of bites with me,” he went on. “We‟ll need our energy for this date.” He held out the slice, and she took a bite off the end. Hot, salty cheese had never been so damn sexy before. She‟d barely finished chewing the third bite when he leaned in and kissed her. “Mmm,” he said. “You taste incredible.”
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“Like ham and cheese pizza.” “No. You taste like Gillian.” The rest of the slice got dropped on the lid of the box, and Kent wrapped Gillian in his arms. Her tongue dipped into his mouth first, insistent and demanding. She wrapped her arms around his waist, losing herself in the sensation of his rough, warm tongue invading her mouth. He broke off first, but only to explore her sensitive throat by running his lips and tongue across it. “I thought I‟d never get to feel this way again,” she whispered, dropping her head back to let him sample more of her flesh. “Feel what way?” “Like I‟m drunk on your touch.” He growled against the hollow between her collarbones. “I‟m so sorry. Is there something special I can do to make it up to you?” She pulled away with a wicked smile. “Well, there is one thing.” His eyes threatened to hypnotize her. “Name it and it‟s yours.” “You can dance.” “You want us to dance the way you pictured in your wedding date fantasy?” Her head shook slowly. “No. I want you to dance for me like you did on that video.” His eyes widened a fraction. “Did I mention I was kind of drunk that night and had no idea what I was doing? Plus I had that mood music going on.” “Oh, that‟s not a problem.” She took his hand and dragged him in the direction of the hallway, stopping at her purse for a moment to dig out her phone. Down the hall they went, into her bedroom. “I remember this room from your video,” he said. “I thought it was orange.” “Peach.” “The video looked darker. I thought orange was a sort of wild color for a bedroom.” She left him standing by her bed and clicked her phone into a speaker dock on the nightstand. “Yeah, well, some wild things have gone on in this bedroom since I met you.” She turned and eyed him. “Wait. You watched my video after I said not to?” He gave a guilty shrug. “I couldn‟t stop myself. Though at the time, I wished I hadn‟t.” Gillian frowned. “Was it that bad?” His mouth fell open. “Are you kidding? It was so hot it drove me fucking insane.” That sent a frisson of delight through her. “Really?” “When I couldn‟t get you to answer my calls, that video was a damn torture device. It felt like my punishment for what I thought I‟d ruined for good.” His eyes flicked to the nightstand behind her. “You have some interesting toys in that drawer, as I recall.”
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She worked the touchpad on her docked phone to retrieve his video, queuing it up until it paused right where he‟d started his dance. “Was there a particular one you liked?” “There was this crazy purple one with a wired controller. You stuck it inside that round, beautiful ass of yours, and it seemed like you fucking loved it.” With a tug she pulled open the drawer and plucked out her vibrating butt plug. “You liked my Pleasure Probe, eh?” She saw him swallow. “Maybe I‟ll use it on myself while you‟re dancing.” His eyes darkened with need. “Do that and I‟ll dance around a damn pole, if you want.” She laughed. “Guess I‟ll be stripping down first, then.” He stepped forward, but she held up a hand. “Uh-uh. No touching yet.” Gillian was no exotic dancer, and she wasn‟t about to try to out-striptease the master in front of her. But she put on her best smoldering expression while she dropped the vibrating plug on the mattress and slid her t-shirt up and over her head. Kent sucked in a breath that made Gillian grateful she‟d at least worn sexy underwear beneath her drab clothes. Leaving her lacy black bra on, she unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper while she moved slowly toward him. When she was at the foot of the bed just a couple feet away from him, she turned around and wiggled her jeans and panties over her hips. They dropped to the floor and Kent let out a hiss. “Jesus, that ass,” he said. She bent over and snatched up the purple butt plug, then turned around. After licking her lips to work up some moisture, she stuck the flexible purple plug in her mouth, glancing at Kent while she sucked on it. When it was nice and lubricated with her saliva, she turned away and bent over the end of the bed, planting one hand on the mattress in front of her. With her legs spread wide, Gillian slid the probe along her ass crack until she found the pucker of her hole, then gently eased the plug all the way into her anus. Kent growled, and she almost lost it when she felt his hand smooth over her ass cheek. She reached around and slapped it away. “Not yet,” she said, throwing a mock glare over her shoulder. “Fuck, how do you expect me to keep my hands off you when you tease the hell out of me like that?” She stood up and moved around to the side of the bed, holding onto the switch suspended from the butt plug by a long wire. “Have some patience, bad boy. Just remember, you teased the hell out of me first by stripping and playing with your cock on a video. All I could do was sit helpless in a dimly lit bar, rubbing my cunt on a bench seat for relief.”
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“I suppose turnabout is fair play, then.” His voice sounded strained, and her clit tingled with need when she noticed his cock jumping inside his jeans. With slow deliberation she sat on the bed, reveling in the way her weight forced the rubber plug in and stretched her asshole wider. She reached over to the speaker dock and hit the touchpad to start up the video. Familiar music filled the room, and she favored him with a smile. “Okay,” she said, scooting back against her bed pillows and letting her legs fall open to give him an unfettered view of red pussy curls and pink lips. “Show me what you‟ve got, hot boy.” She thumbed the butt plug controller on, and a delicious shudder went through her when the device began to vibrate deep in her ass. Kent froze for a moment, devouring the sight of her lying against her cushions spread-eagled with the ass plug quivering on low speed. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You‟re falling behind the music,” she said, toying with the lace of her bra. He shook his head as if to break out of a trance, and his hips began to move. “That‟s it,” she told him as his hands moved down to tug his shirt free of his tight pants. “Make me change sides, like Johnny.” Kent gave her a smirk that flashed his sexy dimple. “Johnny didn‟t change sides.” “He‟s a damn fool. If I were him, I‟d be on you in a heartbeat.” “You‟re not gay, either.” “That you know of.” He groaned in near anguish and gyrated harder. She pinched the nipple that tightened beneath her seeking fingers, watching his shaking hands unbutton his shirt. When it came off, he had on a tight white tank top that showed his nipples were just as hard as hers. “Take the tank off,” she said in a ragged whisper. Her free hand slid down her belly to find the hard nub of her clit. “I want to see you pull on your nipples.” His hands gave her a visual tour of his torso that sent a moan out of her. His nipples peaked harder when he gave them a twist. The drumbeat of the music grew louder and more urgent, and so did his motions. When he slid both hands down to his crotch and palmed his cock, she slid two fingers into her wet cunt and arched her hips up to meet them. “Fuck, I can see your pussy lips glistening,” he said. “You‟re so wet.” “Pants off, stud.” “You want them off?” He eased the zipper down and flapped open the jeans with an evil grin. “Get out another toy.” Digging around proved harder this time, considering the distraction of Kent half naked and her body throbbing with mounting climax, but Gillian came up with the little clit stimulator. He immediately shook his head. “Too small. I want to see your pussy stuffed full too.” “I thought that‟s what you‟re here for.” 58
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He closed the flap of his jeans. “I‟m not over there yet.” “I thought I‟m supposed to be in charge of your apology dance?” “Where‟s the giant dildo you tortured me with during some of our phone sex?” Out came Big Blue, and she rubbed it on her clit. “Time to show me yours.” “I have a better idea. For every piece I take off, you put on another toy.” He nodded to the garments already strewn on the floor. “Two shirts, two toys.” He edged his jeans halfway down his hips. “Are you playing giver or taker here?” she teased, sliding the dildo deeper inside her with a gasp. “Oh, I‟ll give it, gladly.” He nodded to the nightstand. “What‟s in that drawer for me when the jeans come off?” “I might have a little something.” “Let‟s see it.” He clasped his hands behind his head and undulated his hips in a primal motion that sent her pulse into a driving jungle beat. She left the dildo in place while she fished the rejected clit sucker from the drawer. With fumbling fingers she slid the little cup over the hood of her clit and squeezed the attached bulb to engage the delicious suction. When she flipped the tiny switch on, her eyes fluttered closed while her back arched in pleasure. Now she had her ass vibrating, another tiny vibrator on her engorging clit, and her cunt full of rubber cock. Fuck, why hadn‟t she ever thought to try this before? “Jesus, you look ready to come,” Kent said in a fascinated tone. Her voice grew more ragged with each pulsing wave of need washing over her pelvis. “Yeah, well, you drive a hard bargain.” She let out a cry when the sensation sharpened near a dangerous peak. His jeans hit the floor and Kent stood in tight, black briefs that made the bulge of his cock maddeningly evident. He thrust his pelvis at her and ground his hips. “You‟ll see how hard I drive a bargain soon enough.” Her body began to tense while she watched his enticingly vulgar display. “Not if you don‟t hurry the hell up.” His hands went down to the ridge Gillian longed to see, not to mention feel, squeeze and lick. Then ram deep in her pussy until she screamed. A finger, then two, slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and eased them down over one slender hip. “One more toy,” he said with a smile. “If you can fit it in somewhere.” This time when her hand flew into the drawer, she knew exactly what she wanted—about the only thing she still had room for. Her hand closed around the slender chain and pulled it out. “Nipple clamps?” he asked. In answer, she clipped each end to a nipple. She sucked in a breath when Kent‟s groan sent a chill through her. “Strip,” she said. “Right now.”
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He was way behind the video now, which had already ended with his speech about walking on the dark side. As soon as the room plunged into silence, the playful mood between them vanished. Kent‟s expression turned dead serious while the remaining bit of clothing was yanked down without ceremony. She moaned at the sight of his beautiful, swollen cock, red and throbbing near his belly. He paused to tug the wallet from his jeans. “Don‟t tell me you‟re going to offer to pay me,” she said playfully. He didn‟t bother to answer while he extracted a foil wrapper. Once he‟d rolled on a condom, his organ bobbed with each purposeful stride as he stalked to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, looming over her with wide, dark pupils and parted lips. “I have to fuck you so damn hard right now,” he said as his eyes took in every inch of her lying beneath him. “If that‟s not a problem.” “Let me make some room.” The dildo went first, tossed onto the bed beside them. The clit sucker followed. “Leave the rest,” he said, tugging on her nipple chain to elicit another gasp. Then he did the absolute last thing she expected—and the hottest thing she‟d ever seen. He reached over for the rubber cock, brought it to his lips, and let his tongue sweep a long, languid stroke from base to head. Her stomach throbbed with erotic shockwaves at the unexpected sight of a man licking cock and moaning in pleasure. “You taste so sweet,” he said. If the rest of his teasing hadn‟t driven her mad enough, that alone would have done it. “Enough foreplay.” With a growl he took hold of himself and pressed the tip of his cock to her cunt. She cried out and grabbed his hard, perfect ass and yanked him forward. He let her help jam his rod in deep, forcing his hips hard against her until he was buried to the hilt. Both of them tensed up in a simultaneous moan. He froze for a moment, his eyes closed. “Fuck,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can feel that ass plug vibrating right through the walls of your cunt.” “Like it?” To show her how much, he unhinged completely. His hips began to pump into her, each forceful stroke scooting her up the bed. She gripped his shoulders tight and wrapped her legs around him, thrusting her hips upward to grind against his pelvis with each hard stroke. The first night she‟d seen him, she‟d suspected he would fit her even better than that damn favorite dildo. Now her favorite toy could go into the garbage for all she cared. Kent‟s hot, throbbing shaft stretched her and pushed deep until she cried out in bliss. Never had she been filled like this before, and her ass and cunt were ready to explode with the exquisite friction working on every nerve ending. Kent balanced himself over her with one arm so the other could busy itself with the chain on her nipple clamps. Knowing he enjoyed her toys as much as she did drove Gillian crazy. She plunged her hands through his hair, tugging his head back so she 60
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could lick his throat and Adam‟s apple. Sucking his neck brought a grunt from his throat and left a playful red mark that would serve as a reminder beneath his neatly starched collar tomorrow. Then she plundered his mouth with her tongue until she couldn‟t breathe anymore. “You‟re so damn hot and wet,” he said when he pulled back. “I should warn you that I could get addicted to you very easily.” The flood of animal need in her body was rapidly unwinding her ability to speak— or think. “Fuck me harder and you can have as much of me as you want.” “Shit, woman.” He ground his hips harder against her, tugging the chain on her nipples in time to his pounding strokes. The rhythm of his thrusts and tugs and the waves of sensation from her butt vibrator shoved her to an uncontrollable height, and soon she‟d held off as long as she could. The moment Kent took her to the edge she toppled over with a scream she knew her neighbors on both sides would hear for what it was. She didn‟t give half a hot damn, especially when his entire body shuddered while he shouted her name moments later. His orgasm sent her peak higher, and she raked her nails along his powerfully muscled back. With an anguished-sounding growl he tensed up and shot more cum inside her. They rode that second sweaty peak out together, finally collapsing in silence with nothing but their heavy panting and the gentle buzz of her ass vibrator. Ken reached between them to flick off the switch. “Hope you don‟t mind,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Not at all. Was it bothering you?” “Hell, no. Made my cock so sensitive I could barely last inside you. Never felt anything like it.” He pulled out and flopped onto his side next to her. The cool air hitting her tingled as it pricked up tiny hairs on her perspiring flesh. She gently removed her nipple clamps and dropped them over the side of the bed. “Haven‟t you ever tried out a girlfriend‟s toys before?” “A couple of them had vibrators that were spoken of, but never seen. Apparently, sharing was taboo.” “You‟ve been seriously deprived. Thank god I came to the rescue.” He grinned. “Although I am well-versed in the art of handcuffs. I‟m a big fan.” “I‟ll keep that in mind for next time.” She felt his hand skimming over her stomach. “Why, do you have some handy in your magic drawer?” When she shook her head he added, “Then the cuffs are going to miss out on „next time‟, because it‟s about to happen to you right now.” Gillian shot him a teasing look. “What, you didn‟t get enough yet?” He pressed the bulge of a fresh erection against her thigh. “I warned you about your addictive properties. Let‟s see how long I can make you scream on just a half-piece of pizza.” 61
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“You might be surprised.” Kent pulled her on top of him. “I think I like your first date idea a hell of a lot better than mine.” She bent over to dangle her breasts near his face. “Oh, I have lots of ideas. That‟s why you hired me for R&D.” “Yeah? Scoot up higher and I‟ll show you a few ideas of my own.” Further talk ceased for the better part of the night.
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Chapter Seven Finally, after what had to be a hundred glances at the wall clock, the hands clicked into place at twelve o‟clock. Gillian got up from the plush velour couch and stretched, a languid smile sliding across her face. Stan, the only other employee currently in the R&D common room, dropped the footrest of his leather recliner and pulled out the ear bud headphones he was using to listen to his iPod. “Got any lunch plans?” he asked. “Actually, I do.” He gave a resigned nod, and she tried not to feel a pang of guilt. Stan had been tap dancing around asking her out for weeks. He had no idea she was already seeing someone in the building. No one did, except for Kent‟s best friend—who happened to be Gillian‟s boss now. Johnny had never spoken to her about it. Still basking in the aftermath of a satisfying honeymoon, he told Kent that as long as he didn‟t hear naughty details from the gossip mill and it made his best friend happy, he‟d gladly look the other way. Gillian smoothed her black skirt, feeling the slight lump of garters lying against her thighs. She tried to maintain a calm, neutral stride while she left the R&D area and crossed the office over to the financial side. Keeping her head on work had been a challenge and a half since she‟d sent the text two hours prior. Luckily for her, by definition R&D encouraged a light, pressure-free atmosphere in order to foster creativity—a cream assignment that meant getting paid to listen to music, eat catered snacks, and even play video games if that helped get creative juices flowing. It must be effective, since she already had an ergonomic office chair design approved and in prototyping. Right now, however, something entirely different had her juices going. The hallway to Kent‟s office was quiet as she padded along in her stiletto heels, feeling the lips of her freshly trimmed, dampening pussy rub together with each step. Going without panties at work was the latest fun idea she had sprung on her lover via text that morning, and that wasn‟t the only surprise she‟d had in store for him. If he‟d been a good boy and followed the instructions in her text, he would be hard and throbbing and frustrated as hell by now. Gillian paused in front of his door to listen for a moment. No sounds came from within. She knocked and heard his muffled voice. “Come in.” Was that a note of delicious strain she detected? With a smile, she strolled into Kent‟s office and locked the door behind her. He sat at his desk, wearing a scowl she knew meant she‟d done her job well.
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“About damn time lunch rolled around,” he said. “Did you miss me that bad?” “I was ready to ask Maintenance to set all the clocks in the building forward so I could get you in here sooner.” Her first instinct was to race across the room and mount Kent like the hot stud he was. To keep herself restrained, she took a moment to glance around. This office was smaller than the one he‟d had before, but just as sunny and welcoming. The pale furnishings were offset by lush greenery and warm brass fixtures, including the clock on the wall behind him. Five minutes had already ticked off of their lunch, and she fought the urge to rush through the rest of it. She wanted to savor every minute. She listened closely and heard a gentle, telltale drone coming from his seat. “I take it you followed my directions?” “To the letter. I did switch it off briefly when Janet came in to discuss a report, though.” Her stomach flipped at the thought of Kent sitting here for the past hour with her Pleasure Probe stimulating his ass. Still, she shook her head. “Naughty boy. You were supposed to leave it on.” “And risk chasing off my new secretary if she heard it buzzing? I barely got her hired on after Johnny came back and kept Natalie.” “He offered to share her.” “I couldn‟t. It wouldn‟t have been practical for either of us.” She ran her hands over her skirt and saw the heated simmer in his gaze. “You really aren‟t wearing any panties under that?” he asked. Long, sultry strides brought her around his desk. He was standing in front of his chair by the time she got there. “See for yourself.” Instead of lifting her skirt like she‟d expected, he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and kissed her hard and deep. While his tongue thrust maddeningly inside her mouth, his hand wandered down to her thigh and slid upward. When exploring fingers found her wet pussy curls, both of them moaned. “You‟ve been very bad today,” he growled in her ear. “Texting me this morning to tell me you were walking around the office with a naked pussy. Then you made me use one of your toys to add to the torture.” She slid her hands down his broad back to cup his tight ass. “And how are you liking it so far?” “Move your hands around front and find out.” Gillian did and gave an appreciative moan. “You‟re as stiff as a board, poor baby.” “I‟ve been like that since the minute you texted me.” Kent‟s other hand slid up the back of her skirt to give her bottom a light smack. He pulled his head back with a curious expression while he fingered the back strap of her garter. “What‟s this?”
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She pasted on an innocent expression and shrugged. “A gal‟s gotta keep her nylons on somehow.” “Not around me she doesn‟t.” Gillian turned and bent over his desk, bracing herself with one hand while the other pulled her skirt up over her hips. Kent sucked in a sharp breath. “Forget I fucking said that. You are the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen in a black garter belt.” He yanked open a desk drawer and bent low to her ear. “That‟s it. No more torturing the boyfriend.” “There‟s something I wanted to talk to you about first.” “No more talk, either. You‟re going to get it, bad girl. Right now.” He pulled something from the drawer and held it in front of her face for a moment. Her eyes went wide. “Where did you get that?” The black paddle disappeared from view. “You think you‟re the only one who can surf naughty toy sites? A guy‟s gotta bring up his game somehow, to match wits with you.” “Hardly an appropriate use of work time. What kind of example does that set?” “I know damn well better than to surf porn on the company computer, thank you.” He pointed to the cell phone lying in front of her. “Keeping my own smartphone has its perks.” Kent pressed the paddle against her ass, rubbing it over one cheek. Anticipation warmed her face and quivered low in her belly. “Speaking of which,” she said, “of all the sex toys I‟ve ever bought, I have to say my cell phone has been the best by far.” “Oh yeah?” The paddle left, and after a moment‟s silence, came back with a whack. “Even better than this?” Shit. Her stinging bottom spread its warmth right to her cunt. “Yes.” “Even knowing my cock has been throbbing all morning, waiting to give my bad girl this spanking?” Another swat with the paddle left her other ass cheek tingling. “Even then.” “And thinking about the waves of pleasure your ass vibrator has been sending through my entire pelvis?” Smack. She gasped as the harder swat bloomed hot on her bottom. Cunt juices ran down her inner thigh. “My phone is still better.” Smack. “What‟s better about it?” Stabs of pleasure pulsed through her clit. “Because without that phone, I‟d never have met you.” The spanking ceased for a moment. “Not true. You would have been transferred here either way.”
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The palms she leaned on his desk dampened. “And you would have been my boss, one who‟d never sent me a naughty video text. Tell me, would you have called me into your office for disciplinary action then?” The paddle came back hard. Sweat prickled Gillian‟s forehead, and she stiffened as the pain flooded down between her legs, miraculously transforming into primal need. “Maybe I would.” “No, you wouldn‟t. You would have resisted any attraction you felt for me. You were too much the straitlaced boss to do otherwise.” Smack. “Buying bondage toys and sitting in my office with a vibrator up my ass sounds straitlaced to you?” “Ideas that were inspired by your R&D department—all because I bought myself a birthday cell phone.” “Hmm. I suppose you have a point. But then, I also told you no more talking, and you‟ve been distracting me nonstop. Guess I have to find another way to earn your obedience.” Gillian moaned in frustration when the spanking stopped. She heard his pants zipper and wiggled her ass back and forth, trying to entice him back. Kent went into the drawer and came out with a condom and a bottle of oil. Probing fingers smeared the slick substance around her puckered anus, and she thrust her ass back at him. She heard the sound of foil tearing, and what was apparently him coating his dick in the oil. His groan made her arm hairs stand on end. “I‟m so hard I‟m ready to come already,” he said. “Damn it, why is it that I‟m as eager as a high-school boy whenever you‟re around?” He slipped a finger beneath each of her hind garters and pulled them back with an enticing snap. “Please just fuck me,” she said in an almost pathetic begging tone. Smack came the paddle again, and she sucked in a sharp gasp. “Keep that up and I might just do it without getting you ready first,” he said. “If I were any more ready I‟d be screaming.” “Oh, you‟ll scream—but it better be quietly so you don‟t give us away.” She felt his oiled, slick cockhead pushing against her anus, and a thrill shot down her spine. Taking Kent up the ass was something completely new—and doing it while he was taking something up the ass himself was a thought that drove her wild. “Sure you‟re in such a damn hurry for it now?” he asked into her ear. “God, yes. Please do it.” “I could prime you with my fingers first.” “I‟ve been using my finger and anal toys for years, but I‟ve never had a cock in there. Please.”
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The paddle came back against her bottom, the wonderfully aching sting masking the feel of him pushing the tip of his cock inside her rectum. Gillian threw her head back with a gasp, reveling in the sensation. “You asked for it,” he whispered in her ear. Another slap came and he drove himself a couple inches deeper. “Relax against me,” he said in a crooning tone. “Let my dick slide into your ass.” A few deep, deliberate breaths helped allow her sphincter to stretch around his cock. “The paddle helps,” she managed. Now he groaned in apparent ecstasy. He reared back and spanked her good—one swat here, two more there. With each burning, erotic stroke, his organ sank deeper until she finally pressed herself back against his pelvis. They both moaned, Gillian in shock at how good his bulk felt in her virgin hole. Her previous play with ass plugs and vibrators had no doubt helped ease this maiden voyage, and now she was ready to ride it wild. “Your cunt is so hot and tight I couldn‟t imagine anything squeezing me tighter,” he said in a strained voice. “Jesus, your ass feels good.” He pumped his hips against her, slow at first, then faster when she started rocking back on her hands to meet his every thrust. “Finger your clit for me,” he said, whacking her with the paddle. She let out a soft moan and moved one of her hands between her spread legs. The bud of her clit was soaked with moisture, and she dipped a finger inside her cunt to bring even more lubricant out to slide around her hard nub. Her hips swung back and forth, hot and throbbing with the spanking he gave in time to every few thrusts. Soon he was ass fucking her so hard her tits bounced inside the simple white blouse they hadn‟t even gotten around to unbuttoning. When climax sharpened on a sudden edge, she let out a moan that was a bit louder than was proper for office sex. His hand came around from behind to clamp down hard over her mouth, and one final blow from the paddle sent her shooting over a wild peak. She bucked her hips against him while her body splintered into a thousand sparks of ecstasy. Kent tensed up behind her and grunted with each stroke, making an obvious effort to keep his volume down while he spent himself deep in her ass. She stayed bent over the desk with her eyes closed while Kent pulled out and switched off the vibrator. “Fuck, that was intense,” he said. Soon she felt the cool, wet stroke of him washing her ass and pussy with disposable wipes from his drawer. “Poor thing,” he said, running a fresh wipe over her ass cheeks, “your bottom is lit up like a Christmas tree.” The soothing chill calmed the fiery tingle still igniting her rear, and she smiled. “Because I was very bad.” “That you were.” She turned around and tugged her skirt back down while she flashed him a devilish grin. “I could say the same about you, sneaking a paddle in here.” “I confess there‟s another little surprise that I got you for today.”
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He fished something out of his shirt pocket and held it up in front of her. The length of silver chain link dangled between his fingers, reminding her a bit of her nipple clamp chain she wore their first night together. But this chain was shorter and had charms hanging from it. “A bracelet?” she asked. “Happy three-month anniversary,” he said. Her cheeks flushed as Kent helped fasten the clasp around her wrist. “Thank you,” she said. “It‟s beautiful.” She twisted the bracelet around so she could see the charms. She laughed at the tiny cell phone, video camera and martini glass. “It‟s a perfect reminder of how we met. I take it the drink charm is in honor of the place where I saw your first message?” His brows waggled. “Still gets me hot, thinking of you doing yourself right in a bar.” She grabbed hold of his tie and gave it a tug. “Everything you do gets me hot. Especially what you just did with me bent over your desk.” “I‟ve fantasized about it for days. Too bad I didn‟t dare video it in here.” “Speaking of that,” Gillian said. “Before I was interrupted for my well-deserved spanking, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Kent eyed her while he zipped up his fly. “Right, you mentioned that. I just couldn‟t think past my burning lust at the time. Sorry.” She sat down on a chair around his desk, still feeling the residual sting on her bare bottom. “For your three-month anniversary present, I wanted to surprise you with another special video text like you‟ve been asking. I had an idea for one.” He finished combing his hair in front of a small wall mirror, casting his gaze into it so he could see her behind him. “Okay, so the hard-on I‟d suffered with all morning is already coming back.” Her lips curved slightly. “Before I make it, though, I wanted to ask your opinion.” She shifted in the seat. “Your permission, really.” Kent grabbed a bag from inside the mini-fridge in the corner and brought it over, sitting one ass cheek on the desk beside her while he pulled out lunch for them both. “Telling me up front kind of ruins the element of surprise, doesn‟t it?” “I think it‟s warranted in this case.” She picked a celery stick out of the baggie he laid out and dipped it in a small container of ranch dressing. “Because Dahlia wants to help me make it.” His hand froze midair over a turkey sandwich half while she crunched on her food. “Help as in how?” She shrugged. “You know. She wants to costar with me.” Kent‟s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, are you serious?” “She thinks you‟re beyond hot, and she‟s eager to pitch in and help me keep your interest in our cellular friendship.”
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“Like you need a damn bit of help with that. You wear me out, lady.” Gillian shot him a demure look from under her lashes. “So you don‟t want my next text-isode to involve a walk-on by my best friend?” He took a bite of his sandwich and watched her. “I didn‟t say that. I‟ll admit the idea has merit.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I thought you told me you weren‟t gay?” “I said that you knew of.” She popped a cherry tomato in her mouth with a wink. “Okay,” she added when she was finished chewing, “I‟ve never done anything like it before. But we‟re good friends, and she‟s hot. I‟ll admit the idea of it sounds fun— especially knowing it‟s all for your benefit.” “I‟m definitely game, but what about her new boyfriend? What‟s his name, Todd? Would he be cool with it?” “That‟s the real reason I wanted to ask. Todd wants to be the one to record the video. He said he could catch some intriguing angles he thought you‟d appreciate.” Kent stopped chewing and swallowed what appeared to be a too-big lump of sandwich. “Would he be participating, too?” She shook her head. “Not at all. Strictly hands-off camera work, until the two of them go home. Though I did offer to leave the room afterward if they decide they can‟t wait that long. In any case, this way both of you guys would see the show.” “But he gets to see it live.” “Well, there‟s a plan B if that solution didn‟t sound equitable.” She made a point of sucking ranch dressing seductively off a carrot stick. “They expressed interest in a foursome.” The gaze that was fastened to her mouth widened. “Really?” She nodded. “It‟s something none of us have tried before.” “Me either.” He folded his arms. “This isn‟t your way of saying you‟re getting tired of me already, is it?” She was out of her chair in a heartbeat. “Hell, no! This is my way of saying I‟m so incredibly into you that I‟m open to finding every way imaginable to get you off. But I‟m so beyond satisfied that it‟s not funny. Say the word and nobody will have hurt feelings about it not happening.” “Good. Because I‟d have felt incredibly stupid giving you that will-you-please-bemy-steady-girl bracelet otherwise. Especially since it‟s my segue into saying the L word.” Her heart gave a little flip. “You‟re asking me to go steady? Kind of old-fashioned.” “I am old-fashioned, for a hi-tech, sexually deviant guy.” “In that case, I‟d love to go steady with you.” “In that case,” he said with a grin, “is a three-month anniversary too soon to tell you that I‟m in love with you?”
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Gillian shook her head. “I‟m definitely feeling your L-word vibe.” She let a hand finger his shirt sleeve while she let out the words that had been stuck in her throat for the past few weeks. “I don‟t just lust after you, Kent. You get me even hotter now that I love you.” A smoldering simmer lit his eyes. “Wow.” “Yeah.” She paused. “Look, we don‟t have to do the video or the other thing. The only reason the idea even came up was because Dahlia and I got to girl-talking about how adventurous we‟ve become since being with our new guys. It makes us happy, thinking up devious new ways to get you guys hot.” “I‟m all about devious. Just know I‟m not looking outside your arms for fulfillment.” She smiled and stretched up on her toes to reach his ear. “Right there with you.” “Then I say let‟s do it.” “Which?” “Oh, I definitely want to be there for it.” A wicked grin slid up her face. “While you can certainly choose not to walk on the dark side, I‟ll admit that you dancing for another guy on video got me hot. So did thinking of you having a vibrator up your ass. It‟d be fucking amazing watching you with another guy.” “I‟ll show you my dark side if you show me yours.” He kissed the top of her hair and pulled away, shaking his head. “You know, it‟s incredible to think back to when I made that video text. I had absolutely no clue what a hot, pornographically erotic and willing woman I would be lucky enough to find because of it.” “I told you, that cell phone is the best sex toy in my collection.” “Not in mine.” “No?” He leaned in close to her lips. “No. You are.” She couldn‟t help but press herself against his hard cock and moan. “Shouldn‟t we finish eating so you can get back to your business?” A laugh escaped him as he glanced around the sunny office. “This isn‟t my business.” “It‟s not?” He shook his head. “This is my job. Keeping you satisfied is my business. And it‟s a full-time endeavor.” With a growl, Kent pulled Gillian into his arms and proceeded to spend the rest of the lunch hour showing her his detailed and extremely thorough business plan. The End
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About the Author I tend to dream up stories while either lying in bed at night, taking breaks from my desk at work, or sitting on my patio swing overlooking the pool where my kid goes swimming. It‟s exciting to watch a story unfold, especially when characters say or do the utterly unexpected! Before I began writing novels, I wrote and co-wrote short pieces for stage skit competitions and short story contests, garnering a few wins for each. More recently, I consulted on a script for an amateur short horror film, and have dabbled in video editing and special effects. When I‟m not busy doing the bidding of my sexy, yet smartaleck muse, I enjoy spending time with my family, reading, gardening, cooking and watching movies.
J. Rose welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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