Her Billionaires(53)

Biting her hand was her only recourse as she twitched and jerked, the sheer force of her orgasm so strong that her body tried to escape it, couldn’t run away, had to stay and let the pleasure envelop her, nerve endings straining to grow enough to accept all Dylan gave her now, his legs working for balance and purpose and then—

“Laura, oh, Laura,” he moaned, but she was too caught up in the layered power of her own body’s response to reply. Her walls clenched around him, abs tightening in places so deep within her she didn’t know she had, Dylan’s own climax feeding off hers as her excitement increased, knowing he wanted her, that his body was in hers, that she did this to him.

Her.

Every nerve ending exploded as her hands balled into fists, then her fingers opened and she clawed at his shoulder as he worked to keep his thrusts even, their hips bucking and her ass slamming the desktop, face contorted and primal, her diaphragm nearly spasming, too, as she tried to stay silent, her orgasm cresting and then slowly, too slowly, fading out as Dylan, too, milked his own release.

As reality seeped back into her mind she took in the scene. Naked, sculpted man slumped over her spread-eagled body on her desk? Check. Spot on beige carpet where their juices leaked onto the floor? Check. Hair balled into a rat’s nest at the back of her head from the friction of fucking on a veneer desk? Check. Aroma of sweat and sex in an office that normally smelled like cleanser and coffee? Check.#p#分页标题#e#

Mike. His name popped into her head as she kissed Dylan’s sweet cheek, his breath still rushed as his own orgasm faded, his head resting against her neck.

Guilt? Check.



As she boarded the train for home, her skin still plastered with the scent of Dylan, she marveled at what had just happened a few hours ago. Laura’s mind raced with the implications of what she had just done. Breaking her hard and fast rule about having sex at work had been one thing. (Though, she hedged to herself, he wasn’t a coworker, so did it really count?). Sleeping with Dylan again was exhilarating. Astounding. Fiery. All the good parts she remembered with a hefty dose of danger, making the office sex some of the best she’d ever had.

Even better, though, had been Dylan. The revelation that those pictures had been of a girlfriend, alright—but a dead girlfriend, one he mourned for nearly two years after the fact— had been glorious. There was no hidden wife, no girlfriend lurking in the shadows, stealing part of his heart.

The ride on the train home helped her to downshift. She needed to think this through without Josie wisecracking in her ear and without that inner, doubting voice. Sitting on the half-empty train gave her space to think. All the other women her age were reading on their phones, texting, or deep into a Kindle device. Hmmm. She needed to get one of those for the ride. Maybe if she buried herself in a good book she could escape from the clusterfuck she’d created in her real life. Reading about other peoples’ foibles and mistakes was so much easier than living through her own.

Leaning her head back against the glass, she sighed, the train’s rumble sending her head bobbing forward slightly. Mike. Dylan. Mike. Dylan. Mike. Dylan. The rhythm of the car moving forward on the metal tracks turned the two words into a mantra.

Why couldn’t she have both?

Both, both, both, both. Now that word looped through her mind to the beat of the train’s motion. Both, both, both, both.

Beep! Her phone told her she had a text. Reaching into her purse, she pulled it out. Battery was low, too. Making a mental note to charge it when she got home, she checked.

Mike. His text confirmed their date. He was taking her up to his cabin tomorrow night. You like pasta? he asked.

Who doesn’t? she replied.

LOL he texted back. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

You too, she replied.

And then she immediately texted Josie, because right now? She needed her friend, some ice cream, and a lot of talk.

Sorry. Can’t make it until morning.

Laura gawked at the screen. What? She needed Josie right now! Why couldn’t the woman be free at the time Laura craved a good bitch and moan session?

Why can’t you come over? I’ve got cherry chocolate chip ice cream, Laura texted.

Work. Extra shift. Money. Sorry. Tomorrow morning? Josie answered.

Fuck. The train skittered to a stop, then fwap! Laura was flung to the side. Too busy texting, she forgot to grab one of the stabilizer bars, and she nearly landed ass over tea kettle on the floor. A quick scramble out the wheezing doors and she was on her way home.

Fine. No ice cream for you, Laura texted as she walked home, her heels clicking on the pavement. A balmy night, one that should be enjoyed outside, drinking margaritas at an outdoor table.