How would Heather feel about our company owning hers? I would technically be above her in the corporate scheme of things, but considering the size of Apollo, it’s not like we’d be working together in any sense. If she’s like most employees during a hostile takeover, her biggest concern will be keeping her job after the buyout is complete.
It’s a quarter after five. Should I risk texting her? Intrigued by the paddle idea, I send out a feeler in my next text. So…about that paddle?
Fifteen of the longest minutes of my life go by before she responds, You’re contemplating being spanked, aren’t you?
I can’t deny it. Once she mentioned it, the image of her wielding a long wooden paddle sprang to full life in my mind, complete with a black leather bikini and those high-heeled boots I bought yesterday.
Not willing to give in to this sexy, but dark, premise just yet, I text back, Maybe.
Having her convince me to try such bedroom play sounds like a lot of fun. I could drag it out and deny her a bit. Might get her juices running. Hmmm…
Bing!
Are you as turned on right now as I am?
Hell, yes. My eyesight narrows to the screen, peripheral vision fading as blood pumps into my crotch.
Yes, I text back quickly. I need to see you.
Need to, huh? That sounds serious.
Oh, it is. Please?
Okay. I’ll race you to my place. Are you game?
What? Race her? She must be leaving work right away. Before I have a chance to respond she texts back, Bye!
Uncaring about the obvious boner in my pants, I fly out of the office, yelling over my shoulder to Deidra that I have an emergency and will see her tomorrow. I slam my thumb onto the down button and restlessly shift from foot to foot. I text back, You’re on. I’m heading over.
The city streets swarm with yellow cabs, not one willing to stop at my hail. I resist the primal urge to sprint the entire way to her apartment. Instead, I jostle along with the hordes leaving work, walking fast when a brief opening appears among the bodies.
My erection fades a little during my mad dash, but I prefer this half-aroused state to the crazy stares I received in the elevator. I never knew women were so observant. One woman in her fifties licked her lips and blew me a kiss. I swear, if we’d been alone, she would have made a pass at me.
I nod to Heather’s doorman and walk past like I have every damn right to be strolling in like I own the place. The elevator doors whoosh shut, cocooning me in silence while I travel alone to her floor. The pressure in my pants builds again, and I shift myself to a more comfortable position. God, how I want her…I want to kiss her senseless and make her call my name when I do her.
After an achingly long ride, I reach her floor. I march to her door and knock hard, not bothering with the bell. She answers wearing only a red bra, red panties, and her sexy red shoes. The soft curls of her hair lie over one shoulder, the long strands tickling the tip of one satin-covered breast. Heat and lust colors her expression, proving she wants this as much as I do.
I step in, slamming the door with one hand. I pull her slender form against me, pressing my lips to hers. My tongue dives inside, teasing and battling with hers while her hands work the buttons on my shirt. The tension between us flares as she lifts one leg and grinds her crotch over my erection.
My hands slide down her smooth back, cupping her tight little bottom and hefting her off the floor to wrap her legs around my waist. I step forward, clutching her to me, a faint haze of desire coloring most rational thought. The heat between her legs sinks through my suit pants, inflaming my desires tenfold.
I break from our kiss, looking wildly about her apartment. Heather’s moist mouth latches onto the skin behind my ear. “Bed…?”
Her hands race through my hair, grasping tightly, tugging my mouth to hers. “Past the kitchen,” she mumbles. “Second door on the right.” She latches onto my lips, groaning when I open to receive her questing tongue once more.
I stagger down the hall, eager to toss her on the bed and strip out of my clothes. One of Heather’s hands dart inside my shirt, skating over my chest. We pass through the open doorway to her bedroom, a large bed waiting in the center of the space. I shift my hands, pushing her hips away to dislodge her monkey-like hold on my torso.
With reluctance, she allows me to place her on the bed. I stare into her dark eyes, turned on beyond anything I’ve felt in years. My hands reach to unfasten the rest of the buttons, only to fumble in my excitement. Frustrated, I grab the material and yank open the shirt, popping the three remaining bits of plastic across the room.
“Nice,” Heather says as her eyes roam over my exposed skin. “But I want more.” She reaches for my belt and helps divest me of the last barrier between us. With a firm tug, she pushes both my pants and briefs down in one fell swoop. My arousal springs free, bouncing back to slap against my stomach.