Authors: Cynthia Sax
His gaze darts to my fingers and returns to the road.
“Did you think of me?” I place my hand on his thigh and he stiffens. “I hope so. It’s tomorrow and I’m eager to return the favor, very eager.” I knead his tensed leg muscles.
“I’ve haven’t had sex for five years,” I continue. “I’ve been tested a zillion times since then, and I’m on birth control.” This sounds foolish and I laugh. “I’m a paranoid optimist.” I move my hand higher on his thigh. “Is there a reason we should use condoms?” I want to feel everything, not to have anything between us.
“No.” He covers my hand with his, stilling my stroking, his palms rough and warm. “We’ll have sex, but not today.”
I frown. “You promised me I could return the favor today.”
Henley squeezes my hand. “And I’ll keep my promise. I’ll always keep my promises to you.” I open my mouth. “We’ll do other things,” he explains as he pulls the car into the underground parking lot.
“Ohhh . . . I’ll suck your cock.” I beam at him. “In the elevator.”
“Not in the elevator.” Henley parks his car. Our vehicle isn’t the first to be parked on the executive parking level. A limousine stretches across one corner. Three black sedans are slotted in the spots near the entrance. A gray-haired lady exits from a silver Jaguar.
Henley opens my door for me, his expression serious. I slip my hand into his, savoring the connection. “I’ve made you late for work.”
“I can work from anywhere.” He folds his fingers around mine. “I’ve already checked the stats from last night, answered some e-mails, dealt with some administrative issues.” Henley cradles the cup of coffee in his free hand as we walk to the elevators.
The gray-haired lady gazes at Henley, down at our linked hands, and then up at me. A small smile curls her lips. “I considered buying that exact suit in black,” she says.
I beam at the lady, immediately connecting with her through our mutual love of fashion. “The black suit was darling. I was tempted to purchase it, but my father prefers I wear brighter colors.” We move into the elevator. I extract my passcard from my purse and hook it to my white belt.
“And what do you prefer?” The older lady’s suit is classic Chanel, the design beautiful in its simplicity.
“I prefer to please my father.” I glance up at Henley. “I made him a promise and I always keep my promises.” He brushes his thumb over my palm and I return my gaze to the lady. “I’m Kat. I’m a new intern.” I pin my clutch purse between my arm and my side and hold out my gloved hand.
“You’re a new intern. That’s interesting.” The lady clasps my fingers. “I’m Fran and I’m pleased to meet you.” She releases my hand. “Very pleased.” She looks up at Henley. “Expect a lunch invitation.”
Henley nods, his expression grim. Is he in trouble? I step in front of him, prepared to defend him.
Fran chuckles. “Beauty protecting the beast.”
He’s not a beast. I hide my sudden flash of anger under a serene smile. “Henley
is
beautiful and adorably protective.” I lean back and he hooks his arm around my waist, holding me to him, his body heat soothing me. “He’d put himself in harm’s way to safeguard the people, the company he cares for.” I rest my free hand on top of his, his scars proof of his dedication. “Blaine Technologies is fortunate to have a big strong man like him.”
“I agree,” Fran says softly.
The door opens. Henley bumps me into the fourth-floor reception area, stalks across the small lobby, and unlocks the doors, his movements jerky and his expression dark. Grant, the receptionist is missing from his post.
“Are we going to have angry sex?” I whisper as I traipse along the glass-lined hallway, Henley following me closely. A bleary-eyed man with disheveled hair turns his head and gazes at us as we pass. “I hear angry sex is the best, all of that emotion and passion.” I shudder.
“We’re not having sex today and I’m not angry with you,” Henley grumbles. “I’m angry with myself. Mr. Blaine expects me to keep him informed. Now he’ll be hearing about our relationship from his executive assistant.”
“She’s that Fran?” I ask, and Henley nods. We’ve been busted by the CEO’s executive assistant. I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Will he fire you?”
“No, he won’t fire me, but I should have told him about us.” Henley steers me into a large office. The space has floor-to-ceiling tinted windows, the panels of glass similar to those in the boardroom. Every inch of the interior walls are covered with screens and black cables and imbedded speakers. The screens display images of the building, stairwells, entry doors, hallways, interiors of offices.
A massive black desk dominates one side of the room. A black leather captain’s chair is positioned by the wall, and two less-comfortable-looking guest chairs are arranged in front of the desk. There are more screens and two keyboards on the surface, but no personal items anywhere.
“This must be headquarters.” I spin around. “What is this? You don’t have glass walls?”
“I’m the head of cybersecurity.” Henley closes the door and sets his cup of coffee on his desk. “Sometimes I have the need for privacy.” He pulls me into his arms, his hard muscles flattening my curves, his hips bumping against mine.
“Do you need privacy now?” I clutch his lapels, holding onto him.
“I do.” Henley lowers his head and our lips meet, mesh, his breath wafting over my skin. I open to him and he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth, his impatience matching mine. He cups my ass with his hands, pressing my mons into the ridge in his dress pants.
Henley tastes of coffee and aroused man. I cling to his cloth-covered shoulders and suck on his tongue. Each tug of my lips drains more tension from his body, his muscles relaxing under my fingertips.
I laugh, exhilarated by his response. “You need me, Henley.”
“Yes, I need you, kitten.” He lifts me off the carpet and spins me in a circle. The images on the screens blur into dazzling streams of color, an electronic rainbow painting the walls. I fling my arms back, embracing this experience with everything I have, trusting Henley to hold me, to keep me safe. We spin faster and faster and joy bubbles up my chest, escaping my lips in bursts of laughter.
Henley smiles and slows, his dark gaze fixed on my face, his eyes filled with wonder. He slides me along his big body until my feet touch the carpet and we stand, pressed together, staring at each other for several heart-twisting moments.
“Come.” Henley grabs my hand and leads me behind his desk. He settles into his black leather chair and pulls me onto his lap, his body vibrating with excitement. “I’ll show you what I watched last night.” He changes the feed on his personal screens, zooming in on our images.
I’m lying on the stack of flattened cardboard boxes in the shredding room. My lavender blazer is open and my pale breasts are bare. Golden curls are tousled around my smiling face. My pale blue eyes are wide. Henley looms above me, his huge form clad in black, his shoulders broad.
“We look good together.” I wiggle my ass against Henley’s groin, our contrasts exciting me.
Henley wraps one of his massive arms around me, forcing me to remain still, controlling me, controlling my body. “Fran’s right,” he murmurs in my ear, his lips pressed against my skin. “You’re beauty and I’m your beast.”
“You’re not a beast.” I rest my hands on his arm, watching him ravish me. “You’re magnificent.” Henley sips the coffee I brought him and watches us also. He splays his fingers over my blazer-covered stomach, his cock pressing against my ass.
In the images my cheeks are flushed, my mouth is open, and my eyes are unfocused, my body undulating under his. I’ve never seen myself like this: wanton, needy, a wild sexual creature. Is this how Henley views me?
“Did you touch yourself as you watched us together?” I tilt back my head and kiss his square jaw, his freshly shaven skin smooth. “Did it excite you?”
“Yes.” He brushes my curls away from my face, his fingers rough, his touch gentle. “There are cameras in here. Only I have access to the feed.”
“Hmmm . . .” I press one of my palms against the ridge in his pants, feeling the length and girth of him. He’s large, incredibly large. “Can you put that feed on all of the screens?” I stroke him through the fabric. “I want to watch as I suck you.”
Henley taps one of the keyboards and the images change, reflecting the interior of the office, the screens acting as mirrors on the walls.
“That’s sexy.” I slip off his lap and stride in front of his desk. Henley watches me, his eyes darkening. I undo my belt, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the buckle.
“My blazer has to go.” I unbutton it slowly, spreading the fabric, revealing more and more of my skin. With two sensual rolls of my shoulders, the garment drops. I catch the yellow fabric before it hits the carpet and toss it to Henley. He folds my blazer carefully and sets it on his desk.
“Should I remove my bra?” I skim my hands over the white silk cups, teasing my breasts with my fingertips, and my nipples tighten. “It would look good covered with your cum.” I pivot, swaying my hips to the sexy music playing in my mind.
“Remove it.” Henley’s voice deepens.
I reach behind me, arching my back, and fumble with the clasp, my excitement making me clumsy. Henley leans forward, flattening his palms on the desk, his eyes as dark as a starless night. I undo the bra, freeing my breasts, and lob the scrap of silk to him. He places the bra on top of my blazer, his scarred fingers lingering over the soft fabric.
I turn toward him, holding my breasts, clad in my skirt, panties, heels, and dainty white gloves. My image is displayed on the screens, every curve, every inch of my pale skin captured on the feed. I slide my hands lower, revealing my pink nipples, and Henley sucks in his breath, his involuntary response pleasing me.
“Remove your skirt,” he orders.
“Should I remove my shoes also?” I lift one of my knees and run my hands up my bare leg from ankle to thigh.
Henley’s gaze tracks the movement and his jaw clenches. “Leave them on, kitten.”
“They
are
sexy shoes.” I smile knowingly at him as I unzip my skirt. The fabric clings to my hips. I shimmy and my skirt falls to the floor, revealing the naughtiest, most revealing panties I own. Thin white ribbons hold a tiny triangle of silk in place.
Sweat beads on Henley’s forehead. I step forward, turn until I’m facing away from him, and bend over slowly, picking up my skirt, giving him a full view of my bare ass cheeks, the G-string sliding between my curves.
Henley groans, the sound thrilling me. I control him, this man other people fear and respect. I’m strong, powerful, feminine, and he’s defenseless against me.
I fling the skirt at him and he catches it, folds the fabric, adds it to his collection, his gaze not moving from my body. His full attention is on me as I play with the ribbons tied at my hips, teasing him, taunting him.
“Should I remove my panties?” My voice grows husky with desire.
“They stay on.” Henley moves forward, stands in front of his desk, his feet braced apart and his arms crossed, appearing large and menacing, his stance moistening my pussy. He’s fully dressed in his serious black suit and dress shirt, and I’m nearly naked, clad in white panties, heels, and gloves.
“Kneel before me,” he commands, his tone allowing no disobedience.
My legs quiver as I sink to my knees before him, the carpet soft against my skin. I look up at him, the ridge in his pants tantalizingly close to my face, and wait for his next set of instructions, wanting to please him.
“Such an obedient kitten.” The approval in Henley’s voice gives me joy, boosting my confidence. “Take out my cock.”
My fingers shake as I unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, nudging him to the side. I tug his pants down to his knees, freeing his cock, my primitive man not believing in underwear. He’s thick and hard and mine. I wrap my glove-covered fingers around his base, his black curls tickling my fingers, his shaft hot through the lace, his veins pulsing under my fingertips.
His chest rumbles and I meet his gaze. Henley’s eyes glimmer, his lips flat and his expression strained.
“Watch me, Henley.” I stroke my hands up and down his shaft, savoring the feel of him. “Watch me touch you.”
A dab of pre-cum forms on his tip. I swipe my thumb over him, spreading his glistening essence, and he bobs in my hand.
“These are my gloved fingers on your skin.” I work him, a sense of awe filling my chest. He’s so big, so powerful. I cup his balls, rolling them in my fingers, and his thighs tremble. I do this, make this strong man tremble.
I glance at one of the screens to the left. Next to Henley, I appear as dainty and as fine as my cute little gloves, the lights making my blond hair glow. I’m curves, pale skin, pink nipples, my heels tucked under my ass. He’s a wall of muscle, tanned skin, coarse black hair and intriguing silver scars. “We’re beautiful together.”
“Yes,” he breathes. His gaze is fixed on my face. “Take off your gloves, kitten. I need to feel you.” He holds out his hand.
I peel off my gloves, place them in his scarred hand, and curve my palms around his cock, stroking him with both hands. “This is much better.” I smile up at him, relishing this intimate task. He’s at his most vulnerable, unclothed and unprotected, his cock resembling the softest silk over the hardest steel, and he’s trusting me not to harm him, expecting me to please him, to bring him to the point of release and beyond.
I grasp his hips with my fingers and flick my tongue over his cock head, tasting him, and he shudders. I like his taste, his flavor consisting of salt and musk and something else I can’t describe. I lick him, lave his tip, poke my tongue into his slit.
“Yes, kitten.” My gloves fall soundlessly to the floor and Henley threads his fingers through my curls. “Suck me with your pretty pink mouth.”
I part my lips and he pushes into my mouth. I swirl my tongue over his rim and his grip on my hair intensifies, his hands twisting in my curls. I take more and more and more of him, gliding my lips over his shaft, until his cock head taps the back of my throat.
I can’t fit in all of him and I gaze up at him, disappointed, my mouth full of his thick cock. “You’re beautiful,” Henley assures me, his eyes glowing. A trickle of perspiration drips down one of his tanned cheeks.