Reading Online Novel

Dirty Bad Wrong(37)



“It’s fine.” But it wasn’t. My hackles were up, my foot twitching under his desk.

“We’ll still get a social, a treat on me. You deserve it after everything you’ve put in. I really do appreciate it.”

Too little, too late. “Was there anything else?” I handed him back his itinerary, and got to my feet.

“Well, I was thinking we could go through the...” he paused, weighing me up. “No, there’s nothing else.”

“Then I’ll see you in Brighton,” I said. “I’ve got a lot to prepare over the next few days.”

“Of course.”

I didn’t linger.

The ping of my email sounded as soon as I was back in my seat.



From: James Clarke

Subject: Professionalism



Lydia, I’ve offended you. It was unintentional, and I assure you it’s much more about Trevor White than it is about you. I would never question your professional integrity. You conduct yourself faultlessly.



James Clarke

CTO, Trial Run Software Group.



Flawless instinct all over again.



To: James Clarke

Subject: Re: Professionalism.



Do you mean ‘sorry’?



Lydia

Lydia Marsh

Senior Project Co-ordinator, Trial Run Software Group.



I waited.



From: James Clarke

Subject: Re: re: Professionalism



Yes. I mean sorry.

Nothing like making someone work for it. I’ll remember this should the boot ever be on the other foot.



James Clarke

CTO, Trial Run Software Group.



His awkwardness made me smile. Maybe James Clarke was human after all.



To: James Clarke

Subject: Re: re: re: Professionalism.



Apology accepted.



Lydia

Lydia Marsh

Senior Project Co-ordinator, Trial Run Software Group.



I didn’t hear from him again, and the day was much worse for it.

I guess a girl can always make room for two crushes in her life.

Masque or James, James or Masque. I found myself hoping I’d never have to choose, but then scrapped the silly thought pretty damned quickly.

I breathed in the scent of Rebecca on my fingers. Just what the hell was happening to little old Lydia Marsh?



***





My heels scuffed against the leather sofa, struggling for grip as I bucked up against Rebecca’s mouth. Her fingers were still inside me, her lips still tight around my clit as I tumbled over the edge of orgasm. A proper orgasm, not like the ones I’d faked with Stu after every half-arsed effort he’d ever made. It felt so good. Bex kissed my stomach on her way back up, lingering long enough to flick at a nipple. I struggled to catch my breath, mouth still open as she assaulted me with her tongue. I could taste myself on her.

She draped her arm across my chest, the lively colours of her tats matching the mottled shades of my bruises. I looked down at myself, admiring the welts of my punishment. Just three nights in and I was already getting better at this, a ripe canvas for her abuse. She was colouring me in so pretty.

“You taste seriously fucking good, Cat,” she husked. “I could lick your sweet little slit all day long.”

“And you, Mistress Raven,” I whispered.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, dipping her fingers back inside me. “So, you like pussy, do you?”

I grinned. “Yes, I like pussy.”

“Good.” She kissed the corner of my mouth. “You’re turning out to be quite the little pain slut, baby. I’m impressed.”

I felt a bloom of pride in my chest. My descent into insanity really knew no bounds. I rolled into her, until we were eye to eye. “You think I could handle Masque now?”

“We’re a way off establishing that, sweet thing,” she said. My heart dropped and I collapsed onto my back, struggling to hide my disappointment. “Hey, don’t take it so bad. We’re only three fucking days in.”

“I just want to know I can see him again, that’s all.”

“Ok, ok,” she said, nuzzling my neck. Her lips drove me crazy, trailing their way up to my ear. “I get it, he’s driving you loopy, you need to see him again, yada yada fucking yada. So how about we up the stakes?”

“How?”

“Well...” Her fingers teased at me all over again, working their way back inside. I groaned as she pushed all the way in, my tender clit craving both more and less at the same time. “I think you need to get back on the horse, show me you’re ready for cock again. Real cock, not the plastic shit I’ve been giving you these past few days.”

“I’m ready,” I said. “Ready for his cock, anyway.”

“Your tight little cunt needs cock now, Cat, not in a month.” She smiled at me, a smile full of deviance and sin. “Show me you’re ready for him. Show me how well you’ll convince him to fuck you.”