I sigh. “I guess. Want me to leave now?”
“Yeah, just get it taken care of. Hell of a day for Cameron to get sick.”
“You’ve been busy?”
“Just one of those days, ya know?”
“I do,” I say and feel a little guilty. I didn’t want to stress anyone out. “I’ll go now. Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
“Thanks.”
I was hoping he’d say to leave once I was done, but it is early in the second half of the work day. I keep my eyes down as I walk to my desk, which probably furthers everyone’s thinking I got yelled at.
“Follow-up customer service,” I quickly explain to Mariah. “Still covering those.”
Her mouth forms a little “o” and she nods. “Have fun,” she says.
“It shouldn’t be too bad.” Hell, it’s going to be good.
*
I step into the gallery, having almost forgotten about Mindy. Seeing her sitting behind the desk with her perfect blonde hair in perfect curls, and her perfect silk blouse perfectly showing off the right amount of perfect fake cleavage is like a sucker punch.
“Felicity,” she says, lipsticked lips pulling back into what she would call a smile. “The computers aren’t working. Ben’s isn’t working at all.” She says each word slowly, and blinks several times. Are her eyelashes real? No one has eyelashes that long. Though, if anyone did, it’d be her.
“Then I better go up there and get to work.”
“Yeah, you better. I thought you were supposed to be like super smart and you can’t even do something simple like this,” she says with a sigh. “No wonder you failed out of MIT and had to go to that little community college.”
I push my shoulders back. “I didn’t fail out of MIT,” I say, not even addressing the fact that she insulted herself by insulting the college we both graduated from. “And it’s none of your damn business.”
She opens her mouth and puts her hand to her chest. “Stay professional,” she says. “We are paying your salary, after all. Wait, you probably get paid hourly, not salary.”
I’m fuming, and I don’t want her to ruin things for me. She will not be on my mind when I’m screwing Ben in a few minutes.
“And it is my business,” she goes on. “Ben will want to know if someone incompetent is coming in. Maybe we should have requested someone else.”
Shit. No, don’t tell Ben I didn’t graduate from MIT. He thinks I did. I really don’t want to have to tell him that story. I don’t even want to think about that story. “I should get to work,” I mumble, and silently pray that Mindy steps on a Lego tonight.
I keep my eyes on the stairs and walk past Mindy, trying to get satisfaction in knowing that I was summoned here for fun, not work, and that I’m sleeping with her boss. I’m halfway up the stairs before I realize I’m stomping, though the black Toms I’ve paired with my dress pants—that Cameron says don’t go together—don’t have the same clacking echo heels would have.
I open the office door and find Ben near the windows welding something. I stop, taken off guard. I thought he just painted. Sparks fly around him, and the anger and frustration melt away. The door catches in the breeze from the open windows and slams shut.
Ben jerks up and turns off the, uh, welder? What the heck is that thing called? I suppose it doesn’t matter. He looks hot holding it, and right now, that’s all I care about.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay. There’s a wind tunnel in here when the windows are open,” he says and takes off the protective eyewear. He wipes his hands on his pants, takes a step back, and looks at his work in progress. It’s abstract, and to be honest, I have no idea what the fuck it is.
I don’t really get modern art, and it makes me feel stupid, like I’m missing something that should be obvious to the rest of the world.
He strides over, taking me in his arms. He dips me backward and kisses me. He smells like metal and fire. I wrap my arms around his torso and drink him in. Once the kiss has ended, he reaches behind me and locks the office door. My heart is in my throat, and the heat is back between my legs, rivaling the heat of the blue flames that were just in his hand.
“You’re tense,” he says and I don’t know how he can tell so soon. “Nervous?”
“No,” I say then wish I played it off that way. “Just a little stressed. But I’ll be fine.”
“Sit,” he orders and waves to his chair. I let my purse fall from my shoulder to the floor and sit in the desk chair. It’s surprisingly comfortable. I need one of these bad boys for my desk at work. “Relax.”
I nod and let my eyes fall closed. Ben puts his hands on my shoulders and starts rubbing. Holy shit that feels good. I can’t even remember the last time I got a massage. I think it was from Erin, actually. And only because I had a knot in my shoulder so bad it kept me up at night and at the time I was way too broke to actually go get a massage.
“That feels so good,” I moan as he works my stiff muscles. My head droops forward. I didn’t stay up super late last night, but I still didn’t go to bed as early as I should have. I could fall asleep like this. It’s so fucking relaxing.
He’s very thorough, rubbing my neck, then my shoulders, and working his way down. He takes his time on my lower back, and then untucks my shirt. His warm fingers slide into my pants and he continues to massage the top of my ass. He bends over and kisses the nape of my neck. I shiver and let out a breath. He moves his hands around to my front and I lean back in the chair, giving him access to his favorite parts.
He unsnaps my dress pants and reaches inside, softly stroking my clit. In no time at all, I’m wet for him. Suddenly, he turns the chair around, grabs my waist, and picks me up, moving me to his desk. He’s so strong, lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all. He’s right there in front of me, one hand around my waist and the other cupping my cheek.
I wrap my legs around him and reach out, pulling him into an embrace as we kiss. His semi-hard cock stiffens, pressing into my center. I slide my hands down and unbutton his pants. He pulls my shirt over my head then takes his own off. In full sunlight, I can see how intricate his tattoos are. The scars came after a few had inked his skin, and I want to ask what happened. Maybe after we have sex. I don’t want to ruin the mood and know we don’t have much time.
I trace my finger over a long scar on his left pec muscle and he shivers, temporarily stopping kissing me. Then he dives in like he’s starving and I’m the first meal he’s had in days.
His lips move from my neck to my collarbone, teeth lightly clamping into my skin. He unhooks my bra and pulls it off and lowers himself, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches my breasts. He takes one in a hand and the other in his mouth. I toss my head back and realize the windows are wide open. We’re on the second story and deep inside the office, but can still be seen.
Fuck it, who cares?
The risk of being seen—and heard by anyone in the gallery—turns me on. I’ve never done anything like this before. Never had someone who makes me feel so passionate, who turns me on so quickly, and makes me so hot.
Desperation comes on and I’m taking Ben’s pants off, stroking his beautiful cock, and urging him to me. My pants come off next and Ben drops to his knees, tossing my legs over his shoulders. I go back on my elbows, knocking a stack of papers and something heavy off his desk. The papers scatter and the three-hole punch lands with a thud.
Oh well.
His mouth is pressed to me, five o’clock shadow rough on my delicate skin. The combination of rough hair and soft, smooth tongue almost pushes me over the edge. He stops when I’m on the cusp of coming and I want to slap him, push his head back between my legs, and tell him not to stop until I’m finished.
I’m still panting, head still back when I hear a little crinkle. Oh right, condom. Duh. Once it’s on, he puts his mouth back to me and finishes the job, keeping his mouth tight on me, licking, sucking, flicking, as I come, contracting against him. Without giving me time to recover, he pulls me forward and pushes in.