"You're going to do what I say,” he continued, his breath sending a wildfire of passion over me. “Because secretly, you wonder what it's like to be on your knees."
Omigodomigodomigod.
Just as my resolve wobbled and I opened my mouth for a retort, he linked a finger at the curved hip of my underwear, trailing down until he hit the curly tangle of my sex. I should have snapped my knees shut and pushed away from him, but I stayed still. Painfully still, because as he began to stroke at the heat between my legs, I wanted to vault my h*ps forward until he plunged the digit inside.
Once he began to breach my sex, my breath came out in husky gasps and I began to squirm.
His voice was like a whip, reining me in. "Stay still."
I let out a moan of protest but managed to obey, trading the writhing for trembling thighs. How could I remain still with him touching my most intimate place, lighting my most secret desires? I could tell he was ripping at the frays too; moans radiating from behind his pursed lips.
With my eyes closed I melted into him, forgetting everything but this until my eyes popped open. He wasn't touching me in a company stairwell where it was a sure bet that someone, anyone, would walk in on our erotic act, but he couldn't possibly be the only one with access to that door. A janitor, a secretary--what if there were cameras? What if that security guard was watching them right now? But all the questions paled in comparison to the one that screamed in my head: How did he know that I secretly craved this?
My eyes popped open. This was too much. I couldn’t do this. "Mr. Whitmore-"
"Jacob."
My eyes rolled back in my head as he continued to tease my opening, slipping just inside before darting back out. I wanted him to take my protests seriously but how could he when they were flanked by moans?
I brought a hand to cover his. "No, don't..."
"Yes," he said huskily. "Oh, God yes-"
I shook my head but spread my legs wide for him. "I think I should...oh...Oh!"
My words were cut off at the knees as he forced his fingers inside me. I was already wet and dripping from the tease and they dove between my folds with a hearty smack. Foreplay with past boyfriends usually consisted of putting on a condom. And living with my rents, I hadn’t touched myself, uh, down there, in months. With his fingers knuckle deep inside my heat, I devolved to my innate hunger, humping and gasping for more. I looked into his fiercely handsome face, desire and lust simmering behind his eyes and I said yes. Yes to this feeling. Yes to him.
There were no more words, only moans as I gave into the overwhelming sensation of his touch. I could die on the spot and it would be worth it. The bliss, the ecstasy--it was everything. It blotted out rationality and common sense leaving nothing but a need that only he could fulfill.
His fingers slid back and forth and the building monsoon at the heart of me made everything spin into one. I wasn’t sure where I stopped and he began and I didn't care.
"Come for me," he ordered, ratcheting up to a furious pace. The sounds of my moans and my core sticky and wild whipped around us and I let go with a scream that he smothered with his mouth. My orgasm was magnified as his tongue dove in and swirled about mine. He tasted like sex and peppermint and I cried out as my body slammed and tumbled against him until his kiss became something less ferocious and almost sweet. When my heart stopped racing and my legs stopped shaking, he rounded it off with a peck and took a step back.
Red flushed my cheeks as I stood there awkwardly before bending to pick up my clothes, but watching him gingerly pluck a handkerchief from his breast pocket and clean his fingers stopped me cold. There was a look so hollow on his face--so full of regret. It was a look from nights with too much alcohol and going home with guys who in the light of morning were a colossal mistake.
Oh God. Did he think I was a mistake?
"Mr. Whitmore-"
"If you follow the stairs you'll find your way back to the lobby." His back was taut. I was so confused, but there was no mistaking the remorse in his final words. "I lost myself, Leila. It won't happen again."
****
"Miss Montgomery?" A deep rumble followed the question. "Uh, Leila Montgomery?"
My eyes fluttered and readjusted to the sound of my name and I snapped upright, remembering the feel of his lips against mine, his firm body powering through his sleek suit. I’d fallen asleep in the waiting room.
I glanced down at the magazine sitting on my lap. It was the front of Entrepreneur Monthly and Jacob's aqua eyes bore into me from the cover. When I licked my lips, I could taste him, lusty and powerful. I felt him marching me down that stairwell and having his way with me.
“Miss Montgomery?”
Embarrassment made me turn fifty shades of red as I flashed the secretary behind the desk an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. W-What were you saying?"
"Mrs. Delacourt will see you now."
I gave her a small nod and steeled my nerves as I rose to my feet. I gently placed the magazine on the table beside the chair and gave the front of my skirt a nervous sweep. "Of course. I mean, thank you." I forced my shoulders back and straightened my spine as I walked up to the closed conference door. For a moment, I stood looking at the mahogany, wondering if I should just push in or knock.
"You can go on in, sweetie," the secretary said softly. I wasn't sure if it was pity or condescension behind her tone and shook it off at any rate. Yes, she saw me drooling in my seat, but she wasn't the one I had to impress.
I pushed the door open a little too forcefully, creating a gunshot that was heard around the world, and melted into a puddle when saw that the Mrs. Delacourt was sitting beside none other than Jacob Whitmore himself.
Mrs. Delacourt’s thin lips formed into a scowl, clearly agitated that she'd actually asked this idiot girl that was hard of hearing and all thumbs in for a job at their company. But Jacob, his face smooth with eyes and lips that made any hot blooded woman swoon, was a blank slate. He was completely unaffected by my clumsiness.
"Quite an entrance, Ms. Rhodes," he said, not even looking up from the manila folder in front of him.
"Sorry," I quickly tried to change the subject, begin again. "I just want to say that I-"
"And quite an impressive resume," he continued, ignoring me completely. "Student council, phi service, honor society, president of several clubs." He let out a sigh and slapped the folder shut. "I'd say the only thing missing is girl scout troop leader or savior of abandoned kittens."