Indecent Suggestion (16 page)

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Am I not explaining this well? Am I not making it clear?”

Well, no, actually, Becca thought, he wasn’t being clear. But then, she hadn’t been clear on too many things herself lately. Now, however, she had a chance to set that to rights.

Before she could say anything, though, Turner pointed to the papers he had taken such care to arrange, and continued as if she’d never moved.

“What I was going to add,” he said, “and this will help it all make sense, I think, is that Bluestocking could have made it a lot easier on themselves and us if they’d just grouped all those foundation products together and headed it ‘underwear’ or something.”

The fire that had been sizzling inside Becca suddenly exploded, heating her entire body, creating a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before. Oh, no. Wait. She had felt it before. It was just like it had been That Night two weeks ago. And again at the meeting with the Bluestocking people before that. And again that night in her cubicle with Turner, when she’d suddenly wanted him—needed him—as she never had before.

“Kiss me,” she told him. “Forget about the account and just…” She expelled a restless, needy sound. “I want you so bad, Turner. Right here. Right now. I’m tired of fighting it. Let’s do it right here.”

His eyes went wide. “Here?” he echoed. “Now?”

She nodded, curling the fingers of both hands over his shoulders, then added, “Fast. Hard.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth as if he wanted to tell her something, then closed it again. Evidently making up his mind, though, he looped one arm around her waist to jerk her body against his, and cupped his other hand under her jaw, splaying his fingers wide. His forcefulness surprised her for a moment, sending a thrill of something dangerous and exciting shuddering through her. Then she smiled when she realized she felt kind of forceful, too. Gripping the front of his shirt with both hands, she yanked the fabric hard enough to tear the garment open wide. Then she buried her fingers in the dark hair on his chest, raking her nails lightly down his muscular torso.

The fierceness of her response surprised him, too, she saw, but he grinned. “What if someone sees us?” he murmured as he dipped his head to press his forehead to hers. He dragged his fingers through her hair, anchoring his hands at the back of her head. “We’re surrounded by windows on two sides. And there are still lights on in some of the offices across the street. There’s still a light on in here.”

“It’s snowing too heavily,” Becca countered, feeling a little breathless. “No one can see us through the windows.”

“How do you know?” he challenged. “What if they can?”

She dropped her hand to his already hardening cock, rubbing her fingers shamelessly along the heavy length of him. “Then they’re about to get a real show,” she said.

And why did that make her feel even more aroused? she wondered. Ah, well. No matter. She had other things on her mind right now.

Turner evidently did, too, because he placed both of his hands on her shoulders and spun her slowly around, to face those very windows he had said he was so concerned about. Then he moved his hand to the back zipper of her skirt and tugged it slowly, slowly, oh, too slowly, down. As she flattened her palms against the big table that bisected the boardroom, she felt her skirt slide down over her hips and realized Turner wanted to move things along even faster than she did. When the tiny garment pooled at her feet, she kicked it aside, only to feel him press his entire body against hers. He snaked his arms around her waist and moved his hands to the buttons of her blouse, unfastening each in another leisurely, maddeningly slow motion. She shrugged her shoulders to discard it even as he was tugging it down her arms. Her bra disappeared next, then his hands were on her breasts, palming her sensitive flesh,
cupping, weighing, squeezing, kneading, flicking the pads of his thumbs over her swollen nipples.

His hands moved lower, and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, urging them down, and baring her ass completely. But he left the scrap of silk at her knees in a way that made her feel almost bound by it. When he began to rake his hands over the smooth skin of her bottom, Becca leaned forward, bending at the waist, gasping when her hot breasts came into contact with the cool surface of the table beneath her. She gasped again when Turner moved his thumbs to the elegant line bisecting her ass. Grasping her firmly in both hands, he opened her, then penetrated her shallowly with one thumb before scooting his other hand to her front to dip it between her legs. He furrowed one finger into the damp folds of flesh there, drawing a few slow circles before inserting his middle finger deep inside her. Then he pushed his body forward again, pressing his pelvis to her bottom, rubbing himself against her as he drove his thumb deeper inside her, too.

Becca cried out at the exquisiteness of the double penetration, instinctively pushing herself backward as she pressed against the table. She stretched her arms across its slick surface, reaching toward the other side, hoping to find purchase that would help her hang on. But she couldn’t quite reach the edge, so she stretched her arms wide on each side, closing her eyes to enhance the sensation of Turner moving his finger and thumb inside her, and the friction of the table against her agitated breasts.

For a long time, he penetrated her that way, his breathing becoming as ragged and irregular as her own. Then, with agonizing slowness, he withdrew his thumb, and she heard the soft metallic sound of his belt unbuckling. With
his other hand, he continued to finger her between her legs, penetrating her with a second digit, then a third, spreading them to increase the friction. She heard the rasp of his zipper, the soft whisper of fabric, and then he moved both of his hands to her waist as he buried his stiff cock deep,
deep
inside her.

Again, Becca cried out at the roughness of his thrust, at the way he filled her so thoroughly from behind. She was so wet and ready for him by the time he entered her that the size of him proved no problem at all. On the contrary, the size of him only enhanced the experience, because she felt parts of herself come alive she hadn’t realized could feel. He stretched so deep into her that he seemed to become one with her, until she couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began.

And as he pumped inside her, he moved both hands to her ass again, kneading the tender flesh, spreading it, closing it, opening it wide once more for an even deeper exploration than before. Again and again, Turner thrust into her with both his hard rod and his tireless thumb, until Becca feared she would shatter from the exquisite sensations pounding through her. She curled her hands into fists, cried out again and again as he claimed her, wondered deliriously how long the two of them could make this last.

Not long enough, she soon discovered. Because with each new thrust, Turner brought her closer to orgasm, and when he hurried his rhythm, he hurried her response, too. As one, both of them cried out at their climax, and he spilled himself hotly inside her.

For one long moment they both stilled, waiting for the tremors of their shared orgasm to subside, both of them struggling for breath and grappling for coherent thought.
Little by little, though, they remembered where they were, what they had been doing before they both succumbed to the fire burning inside them, and how they were supposed to be behaving. Becca felt Turner’s hands open over her bare back, urging her to rise and turn around to face him. When she did, she found that he was only half-dressed, and that they were standing in the boardroom of their workplace, and that it was still snowing quite heavily outside.

Oh, yeah, she thought. She knew exactly how she was supposed to behave in a situation like this. Smiling, and still facing Turner, she sat down, bare-assed, on the table, gasping at the cold surface against her heated flesh. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed downward, and smart guy that he was, he knew to seat himself in the chair immediately behind him. Then he rolled it forward and curved his hands over her thighs, bending at the waist to lower his head as he settled her legs where her hands had been—on his shoulders. Without a word, without a glance, without a care, he moved his mouth to her inner thigh, to draw a long, slow, easy line there with his tongue.

Becca placed her hands behind herself on the table and threw her head backward, groaning when Turner finally, finally centered his attentions where she wanted them. Again and again he licked her wet flesh with the tip of his tongue, then flattened it for long, broad strokes of her. She felt the ripples of a second orgasm trembling low in her belly, and she closed her eyes to allow them their freedom. Turner sensed her readiness and increased his attentions, lapping her, sucking her and penetrating her as deeply as he could with his tongue. She tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair as her climax multiplied, and when he
brought his hand into the action to finger her sensitive little clit, she cried out in its completion.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him watching her, smiling a salacious little smile.

“You are
so
sexy,” he said.

She smiled back. “You make me sexy,” she told him.

He shook his head. “No way. It’s all from you, Becca. All of it.”

“No one else has ever made me feel this way, Turner. Only you,” she said. “Only you.”

His expression changed at her declaration, but before Becca could identify quite how, he was reaching out to her with both hands, silently offering to help her down from the table. So she placed her hands in his and let him help her down, until her feet were on the floor again. But instead of moving to pick up her clothes, she leaned into Turner and covered his mouth with hers. He kissed her back, dropping his hands to her bottom and pushing her pelvis into his.

He was still hard as a rock, she noted. But he ended the kiss and said, “I imagine you’d like to get dressed and get back to work, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

She smiled and said, “You’re partly right.”

He eyed her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll get dressed,” she told him. “But only because it’s getting kind of cold in here.”

“And work?” he asked.

She smiled again and tucked her hand inside his trousers, curling her fingers snugly over his staff. “What I have in mind won’t be work for me at all,” she told him. “And I think
you’re
going to enjoy it a lot.” She moved her hand up and down his cock, palming the ripe head with much affection. “And, although we might indeed be here all
night, if you promise to help me with those Bluestocking figures,” she said, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while….”

I
N THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWED
, what Turner came to think of as The Great Boardroom Caper, he and Becca were scarcely out of each other’s sight. Their days consisted of being at work and wanting to be at home, and their nights consisted of being at home and not wanting to go to work the next day. Because what they had discovered together at night made everything else seem inconsequential. Even the Bluestocking account, which they’d been so proud of themselves for winning, took a back seat to their newly discovered passion for each other. A distant back seat. Like in another car back seat. Another car in another city back seat. Another car in another city in another country back seat.

Um, what was in the back seat?

Well, Turner and Becca, at one point. And they’d also done it in the front seat. Not to mention their closet at work. And the park between their homes. And the ladies’ room at the café where they enjoyed lunch—among other things. And once, in the laundry room of Turner’s apartment building, where Becca experienced the pleasures of the spin cycle while sitting on the wildly vibrating washing machine, and then provided Turner with a new meaning for the words
rinse cycle
. Not to mention the words
permanent press
. And also
hand wash
. And
lay flat to dry
.

And not once did Becca express any regrets or misgivings about what they were doing. Whatever had confused her about this new aspect of their relationship, it was gone after that night in the boardroom. Neither of them questioned it. Both of them enjoyed it. They were insatiable after that night.

It was as if some monster had been unleashed in both of them that had to rampage all over town, setting fire to everything it encountered, before being satisfied. And speaking for himself,
everything
caught fire, and
nothing
was satisfied. Turner began to think maybe he and Becca were making up for lost time, that they should have become sexually involved in college that first time they’d had the chance, and that the fierceness of their responses to each other must be due to their denying themselves for so many years.

But it wasn’t just Turner’s physical desire and need for Becca that grew. His love for her grew, too, every time they made love. And he couldn’t help thinking her feelings for him changed, too, during that time. They must have. Because no two people could respond to each other the way he and Becca did unless there was a deep, abiding affection underneath it all. And thinking, feeling, as he did, even if he never put voice to those thoughts and feelings, only made sex with her even better.

He was never happier to see the end of a Friday workday than he was that Friday after the boardroom incident. Where he and Becca normally worked a little past their five-thirty quitting time, that day they snuck out early, so eager were they to get home to an entire weekend together. And no sooner were they through Turner’s front door than they went to work on each other’s clothes, their mouths desperately exploring whatever part of each other they could reach, their hands and fingers tangling together as they tried to remove their own and each other’s clothing.

Finally, though, Becca fell back onto his couch, completely naked, opening her legs in silent invitation. And when Turner made no move to join her, because he was still trying to undress, she smiled that seductive little smile that
had driven him mad on so many occasions. As he watched her, she moved her hand between her legs, threading her fingers through the dark blond curls at their apex, until the middle one disappeared into the soft thatch. Then she inhaled a sharp gasp as she touched herself, closing her eyes at how good she made herself feel. She moved her other hand to her breast, circling her nipple with her index finger, and it was all Turner could do not to come right there, seeing what she was doing.