“Take. It. Off. If you wanted me to see you so badly. Show me.”
Finally, he moves back, giving me space for only a second before spinning me so that we both face the mirror over the sink. He looms over me, hair having grown more disheveled in the boardroom earlier, and eyes hungrily roaming over my chest to my waist.
“Strip. Or I’ll do it for you, and you’ll have to walk out of here in tatters.”
I meet his gaze in the mirror and find no hint of a tease. He means it.
I move as he straightens back up, slowly and robotically undoing the first three buttons of my shirt and enjoying the sharpness of his gaze as he sees the first bit of black lace. I lick my bottom lip and catch it with my teeth, drawing his attention briefly as I pull my shirt free of my skirt and shimmy it off my shoulders. I pause, wondering if he wants to peruse my upper half before seeing all of me, but a curt nod of his head has mepulling the zipper of my skirt down too. As it pools around my heels, I hear his sharp intake of breath. Maybe he didn’t realize exactly what was under the skirt.
His warm hands find their way around my waist, and I watch as my breasts rise and fall in the mirror. He steps flush behind me, and I feel his hard dick nestled above the seam of my ass. One hand splays across my lower belly, and I resist the urge to suck in. His cock tells me he doesn’t have a problem with what he sees or feels. His other hand roams up between my breasts, dancing across my collarbone before settling around my throat. His eyes flit around me like he can’t see enough at once.
“Look at you,” he coos in my ear. “You came to work today in a bustier and a garter belt? Now Iknowyou’re up to no good. Don’t even try to deny it. Nobody but a whore would come in here dressed like this.”
His fingertips dance, one hand roaming across the swells of my breasts, down my ticklish sides, across my outer thigh, and back across my ass cheek. The other holds me tightly against him, still across my lower stomach, and his pinky finger begins to dip underneath the band of my thong.
“I think,” he whispers hotly into my ear, “that you wanted to wear this to work today so your boss would fuck you. Like I fuck all my secretaries. Isn’t that what you accused me of earlier, Blanche? And you’re not wrong, but you love to run your mouth…I prefer when it’s too full to talk. That’s certainly when you’re the most useful.”
Fuck.This man knows exactly how to push all my buttons. I knew when he flipped on me in the hotel room that whatever he took from me, he’d dish out tenfold. He jerks me from my thoughts with a swift kick to the inside of each of my feet, spreading my legs and forcing me to lean over the sink for balance.
“Eyes up. Look at yourself.”
I focus on my blown pupils, parted lips, flushed chest…I look debauched.I look sexy.
His hands are both exploring now, teasing brushes mixed in with handfuls of flesh he can’t seem to stop grabbing. My legs shake as he makes his way up the inside of one thigh,so closeto where I need him before detouring away from anywhere I’ll find relief. A whine escapes before I can swallow it, and he chuckles.
“Do you want something, slut? I haven’t done anything but touch you, and you’rewhiningfor me? Just a little something across your clit? Or are you whining for something to fill up that dripping pussy?”
I’m still leaning over the sink when he presses back into me, his dick so close to rubbing where I need relief. If only his stupid pants weren’t in the way…
“What a gorgeous thing you are. Coming to work for me, getting in my way, making my days about nothing but you. This soft skin, those beautiful eyes. I could spend every day of my life counting the freckles across your nose.”
His breathing is faster now too, and his lips move ever close to my skin as he breathes into my neck.
“You make it impossible to get any work done, and for what? So you can drag me into the water like the siren that you are?” I arch back into him, unable to help the way his words affect me.
“You’re nowhere near desperate enough for me to touch you again. The next time I take you, you’ll be crying and begging before I give you this cock,” he says.
And then he’s gone, and I’m half naked, panting, bent over the sink, and dripping between my thighs. Howdarehe think that I’ll come back to him begging? If he thinks I’m going to break first, he’s clearly got no clue who he’s messing with. Clearly, we can’t exist in platonic peace at work, but if we’re going down in a blaze of lust, I certainly won’t be the one to crack.Henry Sinclair will.
Chapter ten
“Yes, Father, I understand. No, there are no skeletons in my closet that you aren’t fully aware of at this point. Alright. Goodbye.”
Fuck me.
“What did he want this time?” John’s been around long enough to know that it’s always something with my father. We were in my office after our last meeting of the day, waiting to leave for our dinner reservation, when the phone rang. Thirty minutes later, I’ve lost my appetite. The only things on my mind now are getting high and falling asleep.
I light a cigar and sit heavily back into my chair from where I’ve been pacing while on the phone. “Apparently, the contract negotiations with the Taranovs have called into question some of our exploits. They allege that there’s reason to believe I have a bastard out there somewhere who will eventually pop up to make the future Mrs. Sinclair’s life difficult.”
“Do you think you do?”
“Fuckno. You know I’m always more careful than you. Which, by the way, you should really take my advice on this one. It’s not worth it, and you take too many chances.”
The nasty fucker rolls his eyes at me. “It doesn’t feel the same, and you know it. I pull out or blow in a different hole…most of the time.”
I hope he outlives me so I don’t have to deal with a parade of his bastards at my office door one day…
A knock pulls me out of the grisly vision of a line of miniature Carters with their hands out, looking for a payday. Before I can say to come in or fuck off, Satan herself waltzes through the door, and I see red. Literal red since the harlot has dressed herself like a walking scarlet letter. Instead of a tight pencil skirt today, it's a loose fit that swirls around her calves like frothing waves.
