Читать книгу The Deep End - AM Hartnett - Страница 5

‘I’m not used to a woman who takes charge,’ said the man from Philadelphia as he dragged her thong down to her ankles. He raised a brow as she parted her legs. ‘Is this your thing?’

Grace smirked down at him and leaned back. ‘I’m just efficient. We’ve got about a half an hour left before the meeting.’

‘So that gives us, what, fifteen minutes each?’

‘Assuming you’re as good as you claim to be. If you’re really good, you’ll get some extra time for yourself.’

The first thing she had noticed during the meeting yesterday afternoon was that this man talked too much. Her boss, Hugh Caroway, had barely contained his annoyance as again and again the man interjected.

He was supposed to be the one who went home with her the previous night. She liked his green eyes and wide mouth, and found his faint country-boy drawl charming. He was her bonus after a month’s worth of fifteen-hour days and the conversation had flowed freely between them as they joined the others for dinner, but drinks had been on the Taureau-Werner dime. Grace could have sworn Prohibition was still in effect in Pennsylvania, the way the whole visiting team from Breton-Craig drank, and by eleven o’clock her man was completely useless for anything more than a nauseous cab ride back to his hotel.

It’s a good thing I’m forgiving, she thought and looked down her body to where he knelt between her legs. She bit down on her lip and held her breath as he parted the slick folds of her pussy. He spoke again, too low for her to catch his words, and stroked his thumb across her swollen clit.

‘Tick-tock,’ she whispered and cupped the back of his head.

Thank God for her boss’s long liquid lunches. While Hugh Caroway was off comparing dick sizes with the heavies at Breton-Craig, she’d taken advantage of the impenetrable solitude of his office to make up for lost time.

Luckily for Grace, his wagging tongue was good for more than just being a pain in her boss’s ass in the boardroom. It was always a gamble when she came across a man who was insistent about going down. She found that those keeners were at one end of the spectrum or the other: true masters with their tongues, or sloppy messes who needed her to point her clit out to them.

She curled her toes and grasped the cushion under her head. This one definitely fell into the former category with the way he stroked his tongue across the underside of her hard nub. She preferred a more aggressive tongue, complete with rough hands holding her open and a little finger play at her bum, but for a bit of mid-morning cunnilingus he was just perfect.

Grace shook free of her shoes and propped the balls of her feet up against his shoulders. He glanced at her and she bit down on her smile. His suit was expensive, but she knew he wouldn’t say anything if he wanted to continue. She reached down with one hand and quickly flicked the buttons from her neck to her navel.

He lifted his head and rubbed his face into her thigh, concealing his grin. ‘Show me those great tits. Play with them while I play with you.’

Grace lost the fight to keep from smiling. She pushed against his shoulder and lifted her hips. ‘Why don’t you play with them for me?’

‘While you suck me,’ he murmured, his mouth moving back down to her swollen folds.

‘Not while you suck me, while you fuck me.’ She pushed up onto her elbows and nodded towards the executive desk before the window. ‘There are condoms in the top drawer.’

‘You are efficient,’ he said and stood. ‘We can both get off at the same time.’

‘Efficiency has nothing to do with it,’ she said to him as he dug into her boss’s desk. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve worked leading up to these meetings? This is just what I need to get rid of some of that tension. You’re a pro at eating pussy, but what I want is that big cock of yours.’

His expression was wary as he returned with a condom in hand, earning a laugh from Grace that rumbled up from deep in her belly. ‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed?’

‘Actually, yes. You were so … what’s the word? … aloof until you gave me that little invite.’

The invite had been anything but subtle. She’d had his attention since he entered the meeting room, but she’d waited until dinner. As they waited on their second round of drinks and after she was sure she wanted his company, she knocked his cellphone over the edge of the table and, when he bent to pick it up, she shifted her legs enough for her skirt to slide up to her thighs, enough to give him a peek of her bare pussy.

‘I noticed,’ she went on, her gaze falling to the bulge between his legs.

He’d been hard in the cab they’d shared the night before. He was a big boy. It had been hard to let him go and head home alone, but she’d had her fill of drunken fucks when she was in university.

And she hadn’t been kidding. Her free time was scarce, and in the last couple of years her social life had consisted of those who caught her eye as she passed through the office. Her longest dry spell had been four months, and she didn’t care to repeat it. The more intensive her job became, the more she needed to burn off that stress with something more than a vibrator.

Now that he was back before her, his erection prominent as he peeled away his jacket, she was glad she had waited. That seething male animal bristled beneath the surface as he went to work on his belt. He shoved his pants down and a glorious cock sprang up.

He was groomed and cut and utterly mouthwatering. The urge to take him into her mouth nearly derailed her, but the need to have his cock pumping against her G spot overruled all other urges.

She sank back into the sofa, drew her legs closer to her ass and circled her finger around her clit.

‘You think I can take it all?’ she asked, her voice coming thick from the back of her throat.

There: she saw it happen, that savage creature unleashed. Grace had gambled on her man from Breton-Craig, and, as he knelt between her legs with that gorgeous shaft bobbing over her pussy, she felt victorious.

He tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and quickly snapped the rubber down his length.

‘I think you can take it all, if I give it to you.’

He leaned over her and shoved the cups of her bra down, an action that pushed her breasts up for the taking, and tugged her nipples between thumb and forefinger. The sting was magnificent. Grace pushed up, but he put her back down.

She moaned as he sawed the length back and forth along her slick pussy. She once more grasped the cushions on either side of her head and rose up. ‘Don’t be a tease. Give it every fucking inch.’

A low grumble poured out of him. He grasped the edge of the sofa back with one hand and positioned the tip of his dick at the hot throbbing mouth that waited for him.

For just a moment as he slipped in and out, Grace worried that at the moment of truth he would prove clumsy and she’d have to take the reins, but he quickly found his mark and shoved balls-deep.

He worked his cock in and out with shallow thrusts. She didn’t know whether he was merely being careful with her or if he wanted her to keep urging him on, but Grace went with the latter.

Even if they’d had all the time in the world, she would have wanted it hard and fast, and so she bucked up and bared her teeth at him.

‘Fuck me into this sofa,’ she hissed, then cooed as he withdrew until only the head remained. He was red-faced and demonic as he looked down on her.

‘You are hungry for a cock, aren’t you?’

She released the cushions and slapped her hands on his waist. ‘We don’t have a lot of time. Just fuck me already.’

He winced as she dug her nails into him, but didn’t pick up his stride. His grin was strained, but the body he held her captive with was in perfect control. ‘Nice and slow for a minute. Let me hit the spot a little.’

A delirious smile broke across her mouth as he pushed forward and that magnificent friction against her G spot sent a tingle through her that ran along her spine in a shiver. He went deep again and she almost drew blood as once more he pulled out slowly.

‘I could stay another night,’ he was saying, somewhere far off from where her head was floating and her body was sinking into pleasure. ‘Spread you open and keep you wet like this all night long.’

She didn’t want to hear it. Not now. She only wanted this, the echo of their heaving breathing in the empty office and the thrill of knowing her boss could break routine and return early. She didn’t want to hear about the past or the future. With men like her Breton-Craig man there was only the hard cock and wet pussy to bridge the gap between the lover she had between her thighs and the next one she took when she needed the release of a hard body joined with hers.

The sting of his balls slapping against her ass jolted her, and she could see and feel the effect it had on him. The masterful facade he had been trying to maintain cracked.

She dropped one hand between them and flicked her middle finger against her clit. ‘Watch me while you fuck me.’

‘Oh, fuck, yes,’ he said in a croak. He pulled out all the way and draped her legs on his shoulders, then fumbled to get back in where it was warm and wet.

Grace grinned and smeared moisture across the hairless plane just so he could see how wet she was. She loved appearances: breasts out, pussy spread open and so wet things were bound to get messy.

He gripped her, arms wrapped around her legs at the knee, and began to pump her. The tingle as he passed over the sweet spot grew to a perfect current, coupled beautifully with the throbbing beneath her fingers. Held in place by his clutch and the pressure of his weight, Grace was precisely where she wanted to be: trapped by the dual friction rubbing in the places where she was most sensitive.

He picked up the pace, jutting his hips and filling her harder every time. He pressed his lips together and made a desperate humming sound as his gaze moved over her. She rubbed her clit faster to match his thrusts.

‘Do you do this all the time? Fuck strange men half-dressed in your boss’s office?’

‘You’ve got to admit, it’s dirtier when you know you’ll never see me again.’

She pushed up onto one elbow and looked down to where their bodies met. She could only catch a milky blur of his sheathed cock as he pumped her, but the sheen of her juices on his inner thighs told the story of how primed she was.

He reached down and cradled her ass, fingers digging in as his gaze followed hers. ‘You ought to see the view I have from here.’

In her last wicked act against him, Grace watched his face as she spread her fingers and showed him how wet and swollen she was.

His grip on her turned vice-like, and, as she resumed with two fingers on her throbbing bud, the man from Breton-Craig slammed against her.

As gorgeous as his dick was, it was her own fingers on either side of her sex that took her all the way. Grace hung her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath caught in a hiccup at the back of her throat and she rode that sensation of her pussy being stuffed as her clit pulsed.

‘I’m coming,’ she hissed and opened her eyes to his flushed and leering face. ‘Just hold off a few more … oh, fuck … just a little more …’

She bucked up as it hit her, riding fast through her explosive climax. He went deep one last time and her finger stilled over her clit as her sex squeezed around his length. This sensation of being utterly soaked with pleasure as his cock twitched inside held her suspended, heedless of the warning pangs from the muscles in her thighs and stomach that she had been contorted, nearly bent in half, in her lover’s climax.

With the ringing in her ears subsiding, Grace came back to life and shook herself until he released her and sagged back at his end of the sofa. One need sated, she was parched with the next immediate need and hobbled to her feet. From Caroway’s mini-fridge she pulled out a bottle of water and drank down half before offering it to the Breton-Craig man.

At first he looked at her like he didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten there, but, just as she had, he shook it off and took the bottle from her. His gaze never left her as he drained the bottle, and Grace delved into the credenza behind Caroway’s desk.

His expression was amused as she laid out her emergency kit – moist towelettes, a small hairbrush and a secondary stash of make-up in her day colours, and a plastic zipper bag with extra panties. Caroway never went into his credenza; he wasn’t the type to look for something when he could call Grace and get her to do it, and so her stash was safe.

He pulled off the condom and dropped it into the wastebasket on top of her discarded wipes. ‘I was just making dirty talk, but you weren’t kidding. You do this a lot.’

There wasn’t any judgement in his tone, and so she chuckled as she wiped herself clean. ‘I’ve probably fucked more men here than I have in my own bed, but it’s not like I do this every day. I have my moments, and I told you I work long hours. Some weeks I live at my desk. I have to get laid when the opportunity presents itself’

‘And your bed, is it nearby?’

Grace perched on the edge of the desk and opened her compact in front of her. The damage wasn’t too bad. She looked fucked, but it was fixable.

She glanced at him. Her clit was still sensitive, but she was already cooling with the end of their fun. ‘You’re leaving on the red-eye.’

‘I don’t have to.’

Her gaze on her reflection, she started to powder her face. ‘Yes, you do, and I’ll be here half the night with no time for a second round. This has been great, but I’m afraid it’s not meant to be.’

As she lined her lips, he zipped himself up and moved on to the mirror by the door. From the corner of her eye she saw him fussing to put his hair back in place.

She knew what was coming out of his mouth next. There was always an excited tension that filled the room in the moments before the words, before that inevitable question surfaced.

‘Have you ever seen him?’

She pursed her lips, blew herself a kiss, then snapped the compact shut. ‘Seen who?’

‘Taureau.’

‘He doesn’t work in the office.’

‘I just thought he might, since we’re so close to his compound.’

Grace chuckled and went to work on smoothing out her suit. No stains. Perfect. ‘I don’t think it’s a compound. I think it’s just a house, and it’s not close. It’s ten hours between Toronto and Saguenay. Saying he’s that close is like saying Newfoundland is just a few doors down.’

‘He’s supposed to be in on our call this afternoon. Will I see him?’

‘No, you won’t. He’s like the Wizard of Oz. You’ll hear his voice but that’s all you’ll get.’

‘Is it true that woman cut half his face off and he wears a mask?’

‘Seriously, do you think a man with his money would be hiding out in the wilds of Quebec with no face like some third-rate Phantom of the Opera? He’s probably had it fixed, and besides, if you’d read the story, you’d know she didn’t cut his face off. She just sliced him up.’

‘They say he had her killed.’

She was starting to get irritated with the direction the conversation was veering. She’d had it dozens of times: every newcomer to the office thought, given Caroway’s position as president and her proximity as Caroway’s assistant, that she had seen the legendary Jacques Alain Taureau. She had no details to give them, and yet they persisted in gleefully throwing all these myths at her for her to confirm or refute, even after she had explained her ignorance.

She strode across the room to nudge him aside from the mirror, then went to work on her hair. ‘Unless he developed the power to give her breast cancer, I’m pretty sure he didn’t kill her.’

He leaned against the accent table beneath the mirror and grinned. ‘You’re defensive about him.’

‘I’m not defensive about anyone. I just hate repeating facts you can pluck off of the Internet.’ She pulled her blonde hair free of pins, and threw him an apologetic look as she ran a brush through the tangle. ‘Yes, Taureau is messed up. No, I’m not a part of his inner circle. When he’s involved in a call, I don’t even take minutes. If you want any more details from that, there’s a documentary online you can look at, but for now I suggest you stop thinking of him as a legend and start thinking of him as a colleague you need to impress. He doesn’t like stammering idiots, and I’ve seen a few walk out of the boardroom looking like they got a wedgie from the schoolyard bully.’

He said nothing as she stabbed and poked her hair back into the tight bun at the nape of her neck, but once she finished he reached out and ran a slender finger where her blouse split open just above her tits.

‘You could change your mind, you know. I just thought you might like me to finish what I started, and I have to say I’d love to see if your mouth sucks as good as your pussy.’

His words had the effect she was sure he intended. Just once she would have liked a little more than an hour or two. She would have liked to get to know one of these men who passed through the office. When the Breton-Craig team moved on, she’d go home and pour herself a glass of wine, have a long hot bath, spend a little quality time with the contents of her nightstand and wait until the next opportunity like this presented itself.

She stepped away from him and began collecting her things from Caroway’s desk. Once everything was in place and she had tied the garbage bag with the discarded condom in it, she glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Less than ten minutes. You’d better get going. Caroway will be coming back any second now and if you’re late you’ll miss the meeting. The doors are locked as soon as Taureau comes online.’

He went to the sofa and picked up his jacket. ‘Anything else I need to know about Taureau?’

Grace crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a wry smile. ‘Keep it short and don’t fuck up.’

She didn’t even know the name of the man from Philadelphia, she realised as she returned to her desk. Dan or Brent or something that clicked off the tongue during an introduction. Whatever his name was, he was smooth enough and he could talk. As long as he didn’t go long-winded, she had no doubt that the acquisition of Breton-Craig would be a done deal by the time the meeting was over, another financial notch on Taureau’s belt.

The clock read three minutes after two. She was tempted to take a stroll down the hall to see if anyone had taken too long to shake the piss off their dick and was locked out.

She’d long ago stopped questioning Taureau’s methods. From what Caroway and others had told her, the owner of Taureau-Werner Inc. came off as barely tolerant during every one of these meetings. If he was bored, he made it known. If he thought an idea or an opinion was stupid, he was quick to shred the offender.

Every so often in the office, there would be nostalgic talk about the days of the old man, Shane Werner, and his charm. Not many were alive who could remember the grandfather who had turned a small regional bus company into a conglomerate of airlines, hotels, restaurants and airport shops. Those who had worked for Werner, like Caroway, shook their heads and puzzled at how Shane had left the business to the grandson who was reportedly a mental case after his girlfriend tried to kill him.

Once the wild playboy, at the age of twenty-four Jacques had been attacked by his drug-addled lover. She slit his throat and carved up his face before turning the knife on herself. It was said that Jacques Alain Taureau wasn’t fit for the position of CEO. The torch should have been passed on to Jacques’s father, Dominic, who had earned himself a Senate seat after twenty years in politics, and was the polished type you would expect to excel in business.

And yet Taureau had done well in the decade since his grandfather’s death, in spite of the Howard Hughes mythology surrounding him. Since Grace had begun working for Taureau-Werner seven years ago, he’d acquired three smaller airlines and absorbed a chain of luxury hotels.

Breton-Craig didn’t own luxury hotels. They owned roadside motels across the Midwestern United States. The idea behind this merger was to revamp the brand and add a restaurant to each property. Breton-Craig would do the work while Taureau-Werner put in the capital and reaped the rewards.

She knew Caroway wasn’t entirely on board with this deal. He liked the shine of Taureau-Werner. He thought adding motor inns would tarnish the company’s reputation. Grace suspected that he had either kept his mouth shut about that or been put in his place by Taureau, and that once the money started coming in he’d shut his mouth for good.

Though Grace had put on a good front for the man from Breton-Craig, she had been left exhausted by their bout of fucking. It had burned off the tension that kept her alert, and the thought of having to stick around until after dark made her want to slip back into Caroway’s office and take a nap.

She settled for a half-hour coffee run and sent the phone to voicemail. One large coffee and something sugary would keep her going until she was able to head home.

* * *

‘It’s crazy,’ her mother said, and Grace leaned over the speaker and mouthed along to the next words. ‘Worse than crazy.’

With every call to her mother, Grace heard that expression at least four times. She couldn’t remember that phrase ever passing over Edwina’s lips when these conversations were face to face.

In fact, she didn’t recall, when her mother lived in town, talking this much about the weather, her cousin Martha’s hospital visits, her stepfather’s diabetes or people she’d never met. Before the move to Florida, they’d meet for tea and sandwiches on Sunday, or Grace would pop out for a long lunch so they could browse for nail polish at the mall. The conversation was light and Grace enjoyed the company.

Now the weekly conversation was just another obligation, and Grace spent the entire call looking for those cues that it was coming to an end. She called from her desk these days, knowing that Edwina wouldn’t delay her if she knew Grace hadn’t eaten or was at the end of a thirteen-hour day. When she hung up, the guilt would be heavy in her gut and she’d commit herself to showing more enthusiasm the next time she talked to Edwina. But she would still be glad it was over.

‘The next time you come down, I’ll get you to bring me some of those caramel cakes I used to get,’ Edwina said, and Grace closed her eyes to suppress a moan. She knew what was coming next.

‘I can mail them to you,’ she replied, and pushed her shoulders into the back of her seat. ‘They’ll be there in a week.’

‘No, I don’t want you to waste your money on postage.’

‘It’s fine. I’ll pick them up the next time I get groceries.’

‘I didn’t think you went grocery shopping anymore. The last time we were up your fridge was bare.’

‘Mom, stop.’

Grace didn’t need the reminder. Her fridge was bare most of the time. Her diet consisted of whatever could be found on the worn takeout menus from the break room and her fruit intake came entirely from the waxy pickings that collected dust at the café in the lobby. Every so often she’d get ambitious enough to have a cooking day, but whatever she made would be forgotten until she discovered some frost-caked plastic container in her fridge freezer.

‘You’re not drinking too much, are you?’

‘Mom, stop talking like I’m an alcoholic.’ She’d never be allowed to forget the presence of that quart of raspberry vodka in a fridge without milk or bread. ‘I don’t have time to be a drunk.’

‘Life isn’t all work, Gracie. You should get yourself a slow cooker –’

‘And I’d have to get up an hour early to cook.’

‘I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’ Edwina sounded defeated, and Grace got to her feet, trying to banish the thought that she was a horrible daughter.

‘I know you are, but I’m fine.’

‘Fine is what you tell people when you feel like shit.’

‘Mom –’

‘You should at least try and meet someone. It makes a huge difference when you have a warm body waiting for you when you get home.’

‘I really don’t want to discuss warm bodies with you,’ Grace said, and thought about shutting her mother up with details of the warm body she’d enjoyed earlier that day. ‘When did you develop such an interest in my social life, anyway? When you lived here you used to growl at me about having too big a social life.’

‘There’s a difference between being twenty years old and partying every night, and being thirty and spending all hours of the day at your desk. Have you tried that online dating?’

‘All right, I’m hanging up now.’ She couldn’t help laughing at her mother. It was like she was reading for the part of meddling mother in a romantic comedy. Maybe that’s what you became as you got older: a stock character.

‘I’ll give you a call next week?’ Grace asked. ‘I’ll mail you the caramel cakes next week, and I don’t want to hear anything about the postage.’

She disconnected but stayed sitting at her desk, turning her can of diet soda back and forth, until the guilt passed. Then she headed towards the boardroom.

If it hadn’t been Friday, Grace would have left the boardroom mess until the morning and been on the road with drive-thru and sleep on the agenda. Because the hard work was over for now, and because she was alone on the thirteenth floor, she took a moment to herself.

The acquisition was successful. Breton-Craig was now a part of Taureau-Werner.

She slipped off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the expensive carpet, popped the top two buttons of her blouse, then sank back into the leather chair at the head of the conference table. All that was missing was a bottle of wine.

No doubt there were a few stragglers somewhere in the building trying to make a deadline, but aside from the cleaning crew and security she was alone. Especially on the thirteenth floor, the executive floor, where there was no one.

The view of the city skyline was ethereal, bringing to mind Zeus and his kin looking down on earth from Olympus. It was easy to imagine that the small world below could be so easily manipulated by a whim from above, that she could reach out and nudge a building out of the way to enhance her view.

She remained there overlooking creation for what seemed like hours, until something as common as the water cooler gurgling brought her back. It was a hateful intrusion, a reminder that she was no goddess and there was no real peace to be found in the Taureau-Werner building.

Grace didn’t dwell on it. She’d heard enough whining from the rest of the staff during the day; she didn’t want to hear it in her head when she had all this before her at the end of the day.

You’re tired. You’re cranky. You need sleep. Tomorrow, everything will look less grey.

She rose and stretched. Joints popped, and a yawn crawled up her throat. She went around the table and collected empty coffee cups and soiled napkins, wiped crumbs away and set all the chairs in perfect formation.

As she reached for the OFF button on the projector at the centre of the table, the room lit up. Reflected on the screen at the end of the table, the laptop had come out of sleep mode. The text on the screen informed her that a call was coming in from JAT: Jacques Alain Taureau.

For a moment, she was unsure whether to answer. There was no reason for him to be calling now. It had been Taureau who had adjourned the meeting.

Just the thought of Taureau made her nervous. She’d been telling the Breton-Craig man the truth: she never had any personal contact with him, and to her knowledge he never left his house in rural Quebec.

Though she wasn’t one for sharing gossip, Grace couldn’t help but absorb it when in earshot. There were so many stories out there. She’d heard from some that his face was like Frankenstein’s monster’s, while others said that he had had extensive plastic surgery to fix the damage.

He’d called in to the afternoon meeting with voice only. He was calling her now with full video.

After a moment, he disconnected and Grace exhaled.

It had just been a mistake, maybe a slip of a finger. Yet as she moved to the conference console the screen lit up with the words JAT INCOMING VIDEO CALL.

She quickly turned the lights back on, and then pressed the receiver button.

It took a moment to make out shape from shadow. A man was in near-darkness, sitting partially off-camera. All that was revealed to her was a broad arm and shoulder, an ear surrounded by dark hair that curled around a wide neck, the corner of a mouth, and one heavy-lidded dark eye.

Grace straightened and smiled. ‘Good evening, Mr Taureau.’

He said nothing, and a prickle ran across her neck. Taureau’s one-eyed gaze was so intense she didn’t feel the need to speak again. She knew that he heard her.

‘Miss Neely, isn’t it?’

Grace nodded. ‘Mr Caroway’s assistant. I’m afraid everyone’s gone home.’

‘Everyone but you.’

She couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or was merely amused. Taureau rarely spoke, but when he did it was a startling experience. She’d seen video clips of him in his youth. He’d had a silky voice with that fluid French-Canadian accent. Now, with apparent damage to his vocal cords, his voice was like the kind of smoke found in an anonymous bar, equal parts seductive and menacing.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she offered him a bright smile. ‘I’m just finishing up.’

‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’

Without the benefit of his expression, Grace couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic. She didn’t care for the question. She’d already had her weekly reminder of the lack of social intercourse in her life. Still, she didn’t falter. ‘It’s been a month of long nights. I was just about to be on my way.’

He moved slightly, enough to reveal the scar beneath this eye. Of all the rumours she’d heard, this was a fact: he had been left with scars as a gruesome memorial of what had happened to him.

‘I’ve seen you here late before, alone. Almost every night I see you in this office, but it doesn’t seem like a burden to you like it does with others.’

‘This is a demanding job, sir. If I didn’t –’

‘You seem to thrive on it, though. The more pressed you are to perform, the happier you seem.’

Grace couldn’t loosen her tongue. Her thoughts buzzed inside her head, impossibilities shifting from ghostly and translucent to solid and real. Here she was having a casual conversation with an enigma, and he was telling her that he had been watching her.

The tips of her fingers tingled, and then went numb with cold shock.

He’s seen everything.

Still, she kept smiling as he went on.

‘You’re not married.’ It was a statement, not a question.

She shrugged. ‘I prefer my independence.’

‘As do I. Some people just don’t get it, do they? Like the mother you were talking to earlier. She doesn’t understand why someone would choose to be alone.’

‘I don’t –’ She caught herself before she could tell him she didn’t choose to be alone. She simply was alone, because that was the life she had made. She had very few regrets, and when she did they were fleeting.

‘I have people in my life like that,’ he said, and laughed. It was a cynical sound he seemed to cover up after a moment. ‘Though I suppose it would be absurd to compare our situations, wouldn’t it? There’s a big difference between thriving on constant activity like you do and … well, me. Still, there’s something to be said for solitude, isn’t there, Miss Neely?’

‘Is that why you called in tonight?’ she asked, sure her voice shook a little as she did.

‘Are you asking if I’m looking for someone to validate my disdain for being alone? Am I so lonely I’d watch you like some horror-movie stalker? No, and there’s no need to be defensive, though I can hardly blame you after what I’ve seen. You’re often here alone, but sometimes you’re not alone.’

A cold chill settled in every bone. Grace sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. She let the smile go, but held her chin high.

So this is it. This is the moment when all those sinful little indiscretions are laid out before her. She’d always worried it would happen, but she could never have imagined Jacques Alain Taureau would be the one she’d be exposed to.

After a moment, she said, ‘Mr Taureau, sir, am I fired?’

‘Something else we have in common,’ Taureau went on, his tone as cool as ever. ‘I like discretion. I like control. I like knowing that once we’ve both gotten what we want, there’ll be no complications to follow.’

She couldn’t deny that his outlook mirrored hers, but it bothered her that it had been so obvious to him.

‘May I ask you something?’ she asked.

‘Please.’

‘Do you have cameras everywhere?’

‘I do, but not the CCTV monitored by security. My own.’

‘With sound.’

The corner of his eye crinkled. What she could see of his mouth twitched. Was that a smile? She couldn’t tell, and his voice betrayed no emotion, let alone amusement.

‘No one knows about it but me and a few trusted acquaintances.’

‘And me.’

‘But you’re not going to tell anyone.’

There it was: the challenge. She wasn’t going to reveal his secret and she knew it.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Why not?’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘For one, I understand your reasons. It’s not enough to keep your enemies close. You want to be able to manipulate them and if you know their secrets, you can pre-empt any moves against you.’

‘And for another?’

She began moving around the table. ‘Because I’m not stupid, Mr Taureau. I assume you put the cameras here in October when the room was being renovated. You’ve seen me with about five different men in this office.’

She could have sworn that smile got wider. He moved, his elbow now on the arm of the chair and his fingers against his temple. ‘Six men, actually. Not to mention the three times you sucked off John Stamp at his desk when you had your Christmas fling.’

Grace stopped at the head of the table and leaned back. Inside, she was spiralling. Outside, she matched his composure. ‘You are thorough.’

‘So are you, in more ways than one.’

She curled her fingers around the edge of the table. ‘Am I fired?’

‘What was his name? The last one, the one in Caroway’s office today.’

‘Sir, I’d like an answer to my question.’

‘You’re very formal. It’s like an on-and-off switch. I think you’re trying to take control away from me, like you do with your lovers.’ His chair squeaked as he leaned back. Still, he remained hidden in shadow. ‘No, you’re not fired. Not if you tell me his name.’

‘I don’t think –’

The room filled with a chaotic sound: a woman moaning, panting, urging.

‘You are hungry for a cock, aren’t you?’

Grace couldn’t breathe as she stared at the man in shadow and listened to the grainy voice of her man from Breton-Craig, and then her own.

‘You want to watch me rub my pussy while you fuck me?’

‘Spread you open and keep you wet like this all night long.’

‘Oh, fuck … just a little more …’

The sound cut off.

‘His name.’

If she couldn’t remember before, there was no way she’d think of it now. Her brain was fried. She no longer felt cold; she was on fire.

It was another moment before her tongue loosened. ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember. He’s an executive with Breton-Craig. We flirted at dinner last night.’

‘Did you fuck him last night or did you wait until this afternoon?’

Though she was beginning to feel cornered, she refused to give up her composure. She spoke matter-of-factly. ‘No. He was drunk by the end of the night, and I needed to be here at seven o’clock.’

‘Did you want to last night?’

Grace nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’

He said nothing, and she was fraught with turmoil. Taureau had been right; the need for control gnawed at her. She took the opportunity in his silence to try and gain some semblance of an upper hand.

She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Is this the real reason you rang me tonight? You want the filthy details?’

‘I don’t need filthy details. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. No, I was curious. At one point in the video from today you looked right at the camera. I wanted to find out whether you were that clever and knew you were being watched.’

He moved again, this time to reveal a little more of his face. He had a strong chin dappled with whiskers and a wide mouth. The burgundy shirt he wore was unbuttoned partway to reveal a lightly furred chest. Just the slightest hint of a naked body gave her a thrill she had to suppress.

‘How do you feel about being watched? Be honest with me.’

‘How do you know I’d be telling you the truth when my livelihood is hanging in the balance?’

‘Is it? I thought we’d settled this when you admitted you didn’t know his name. Miss Neely, I’m not firing you. Now please, tell me how you feel about being watched.’

She had the urge to avert her gaze as a shiver teased between her shoulder blades. Indeed, when she made her connections at the office there was always the thrill of being caught, but that thrill only shimmered through her as she and her lover secreted themselves away. She wasn’t doing it because of any penchant for being watched.

‘I’ve never thought about it until tonight,’ she said honestly. ‘It’s never been my fantasy.’

‘Anonymous sex is your fantasy.’

‘It’s not anonymous,’ she insisted, then laughed at herself. ‘It’s not entirely anonymous. I do get their names most of the time.’

‘That’s more than I can say about my own activities these days, Miss Neely.’ Taureau chuckled, a low sound that surrounded her. ‘You’re evading my question again. Now that you know you’ve been watched all this time, how do you feel?’

‘Hot.’ His mouth twitched as the admission raced electric through her veins. ‘I would feel different if I found out there was a security guard jerking off somewhere, or if I caught someone peeking through a crack in the door.’

‘You’ve been lucky. No one’s caught on yet.’

‘But you have, and now that I know you’ve seen everything …’ She darted her gaze from side to side, wondering if he could see the slight movement as she pressed her thighs together. ‘You must know that’s one hell of a fantasy you’re peddling: a rich, brooding stranger watching me from the shadows while I’m bent over a table or a desk with a hard cock pounding between my legs.’

A sharp hissing sound came from the speakers. Grace couldn’t help smiling.

‘Is that what you needed to hear so you won’t feel like a pervert the next time you’re rubbing out while watching me?’

‘There you go again, trying to get control from me. One would think you like to be in charge, but we both know that’s not true. You like to be pushed around a little. You like to be told what to do.’

Regardless of how many miles separated them, Grace still felt the shift. It rushed up around her, leaving her light-headed as arousal weighed her down.

‘It’s late,’ she said quietly. ‘If you have no more questions for me, I should be on my way.’

‘I’m not quite ready to say good night yet,’ he answered quickly. ‘I enjoy talking to you. Too many people tell me what I want to hear, and apologise when I question them. You’re quite fearless.’

Taureau went silent. On the screen she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When the pulse stopped, when he held his breath, so did she.

Something was about to happen. Even if she could think clearly, she doubted whether she could imagine what it might be, but whatever it was she was more than ready for it.

He moved again, withdrawing further into shadow. ‘I want you to ask me again if there’s anything you can do for me, Miss Neely.’

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said, but had a hard time accepting that the sultry voice she heard was actually hers, ‘is there anything I can do for you?’

The silence stretched on and on as the warmth flowed. A faint current went through her abdomen.

Finally, Taureau said, ‘Show me your garters.’

‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’

She thanked years of being able to stay focused under pressure for the steadiness in her voice and in her hands as she reached down, even as her heart began to drum a little faster.

Her gaze fixed on the screen, Grace worked the skirt up, tugging one side at a time until the hem brushed the tops of her stockings.

Taureau remained unmoving, his half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth. His dark sorcerer’s eyes seemed to look inside her.

When she had revealed just an inch of the garter, she stopped.

‘Turn around. Keep going.’

Grace obeyed. She wished she could see what he saw as she worked her skirt up around her waist. She could only imagine: black stockings, the creamy skin above bisected by the garters, her ass bare save for the skinny thong she wore.

When she was exposed to him, she looked over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything else, sir?’

‘One hand on the table. Touch yourself with the other.’

The fever inside her built, moving like a match to gasoline. Her face was on fire. She worked hard to draw a breath in and out.

Grace bent forward, hand flat on the surface of the conference table. Looking straight ahead, she was faced with the same skyline she had been admiring only minutes ago. The pink hues that had streaked across the sky had gone translucent and the moonlight bled through.

Goose flesh rose on her arms and legs. A thrill went up her spine. She knew even before she slipped her hand between her legs that she would find her panties soaked through.

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said in a murmur as she slid her fingers along the outline of her pussy, ‘tell me what I can do for you.’

An intake of breath preceded his words. The moment seemed to go on and on in silence as she stroked herself, her heart drumming faster and louder while she waited.

Finally: ‘Come for me.’

She couldn’t stop the moan that slipped over her lips and dissipated into the quiet. Closing her heavy lids so the panorama before her became a smudge, Grace ran her finger up and down. Her juices seeped through the thin lace barrier, wetting her fingertips.

The world was surreal to her. It was as though she was participating in something that shouldn’t be: caught at last taking her pleasure at work, ensnared by the mythical Taureau himself in this wicked game.

‘Spread yourself a little more for me.’

‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’ She could barely get the words around her thick, useless tongue. She gave up on it and pressed the tip to the roof of her mouth. Placing her feet wider apart, she lifted her ass and rubbed herself through her panties.

With every moment she grew wetter and hotter. Desperation was beginning to set in. The pressure against her clit wasn’t enough. Without waiting for his directive, Grace slipped her fingers beneath the band of fabric and delved into the wet heat she found.

All around was his heavy breathing and the unmistakable sound of shifting clothes. ‘Stop. Turn around.’

Her knees were weak as she pushed herself upright. She said a prayer in her head that he wouldn’t draw out her pleasure or, worse, deny it. Now that she was under his spell, she would do what he asked.

Facing the screen, Grace gritted her teeth at the sight of him now. He had moved the computer, the camera, whatever it was he used. In addition to his hard mouth and strong chin, she now discovered him shirtless with his pants bunched at his knees. His cock was delectably thick and long, the smooth underside meeting an inflamed crown, the tip shining with precome.

‘Tell me,’ she said, her voice cracking as she watched him tug the skin along the shaft, ‘tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Strip down to only the garters and stockings.’

Her hands shaking and her fingers almost useless, she fumbled to shuck off her blouse and skirt. It seemed like she’d never free herself of her bra. She sighed with relief as the garment finally gave way and the straps slid down her shoulders.

The sound of his breath came in hard, static spurts. That almost-smile was back on his mouth. His hand slowly worked the thick-veined column he held in his palm.

Finally, he spoke. ‘On the table. Lie back and spread for me.’

She obeyed and perched on the edge of the table, then leaned backwards and propped herself on her elbows. Dragging the soles of her shoes across the polished surface, she drew her knees close to her and spread them as far apart as she could.

‘Like this?’

He grunted, and the rhythm of his hand picked up pace. ‘Show me.’

Grace’s words came out as a whisper. ‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’

She ran her hand from the hollow of her throat, scraping her fingernails over her breastbone, between her breasts, and lower, lower, lower until the tips of her fingers met slick flesh.

Teasing herself, teasing him, she ran the pad of her middle finger back and forth over the soft hood covering her clit. It was a technique she had never used when performing for a lover. This was hers alone, and she joyfully gave it to him.

As her finger worked and her clit swelled from its sheath, Grace chewed her bottom lip and watched his performance. Her mouth watered as she watched that big hand squeezing his dark cock.

She longed to have it in her mouth at that moment, sliding back and forth between her lips and over her tongue while she touched herself.

‘Is this what you do?’ she asked, fingers slipping lower to tease at the wet mouth below. ‘I mean, do you prefer to watch rather than take part?’

‘It depends on my mood.’ His voice trembled in sync with the motions of his big hand. ‘Sometimes I pay people to come to me just to perform. Sometimes I pay them to fuck.’

‘Why pay them?’

‘It’s easier to keep them quiet that way.’

A stab of irritation went through her. She didn’t like the implication that she was anything like the people she paid. She lifted her head to glare at the screen, but he cut her to the quick.

‘The conversation is over, Miss Neely. You should be focused on what you can do for me, and right now you can show me how you finger-fuck yourself.’

Grace’s combativeness fizzled and was wholly replaced by the need to come for him. Her gaze still on the screen, where he jerked his cock with steady strokes, she matched his pace. She plunged her fingers deep into her pussy, then withdrew completely to slide up to her clit.

A damp fever formed on her cheeks, across her neck, under her arms, behind her knees and between her legs. The only way to expel the energy threatening to burn her up was in strangled whimpers that coincided with guttural moans from Taureau.

‘Come on, Miss Neely,’ he said in a growl. ‘Let me see you get off before I do.’

At this order she gave all, opening up as far as she could for him as she strummed her clit. Friction started an unstoppable fire that instantly enveloped her.

Though she hated to drag her gaze from him, she tilted her head back and gave in to splotches of coloured lights that accompanied the sudden tremor racing up and down her pussy that culminated in a glorious explosion.

Through the red cloud of need broken by white jolts of electricity, she was acutely aware that Taureau was attuned to everything. If he had been in the same room with her, she couldn’t have felt his presence more. As the last few throbs rendered her useless, she smiled and plunged her fingers into herself. Taureau made a choking sound, and Grace opened her eyes and lifted her head in time to see the first eruption rain down on his hand.

Licking her lips, she watched him to the finish, until his hand fell away and what she could see of his body went lifeless.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to rouse him, and in the end decided to simply flop back and try to catch her breath.

Worrisome reality nudged her but she shooed it away. She didn’t have it in her to think about her position with the company, or even the next few moments, in which Taureau could say anything.

The moment had to end, and it did with the sound of Taureau moving. Grace lifted her head and saw his bare ass fill the screen as he stood turned away from her and cleaned himself up.

She pushed herself to the edge of the table and hopped off. All was so silent as she wriggled back into her skirt that she feared he’d disconnected, but when she turned she found him in the same position as at the start, leaning back with his hand on his chin and watching her.

‘You won’t fuck any more strangers or co-workers in my building,’ he said. ‘If you open your legs in this room or any other room, it will be for me.’

Grace straightened, a sad attempt at composure considering how dishevelled she felt. Still, she smiled. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr Taureau?’

His chuckle was so wicked it transformed Grace’s smile into something naughty. ‘Miss Neely, there are many things you can do for me, and in time you will.’

Grace tingled with pleasure as she leaned against the table and crossed one foot over the other. ‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’