Break the Sky (Spiral of Bliss Spin Off) (17 page)

I might have melted. Just a little.

“So, Kelsey…” Archer lowered his voice to that deep purr that resounded in my blood. “When was the last time you were fucked real good?”

Heat bloomed through me. A noise came out of my mouth that I didn’t recognize. Did I just
giggle
?

“Um…” I made a show of looking at my watch. “About nineteen hours ago.”

“Hmm.” He frowned with concern. “Long time.”

“By some standards, I guess.”

“Including yours?”

My heart thumped. I was already all in. I wasn’t going to spend the next couple of weeks wondering what the hell I was doing. I was just going to…
do it
. I held Archer’s gaze and nodded.

“It’s been a very long time by my standards,” I said, aware that my voice had gotten a little husky.

“We’ll have to change that soon.”

I could hardly wait.

“Hey, you guys okay?” Liv came into the room, a pitcher of water in one hand. “Need anything else?”

“No, we’re done,” I told her. “Thanks.”

Archer stood, digging into his pocket for his wallet despite Liv’s protests.

“Are you going up to the house?” she asked him. “I’m going to stop by before dinner to finish priming the bedroom. I’ll drop off some drapery and tile samples later this week.”

He nodded, and they had a short discussion of the week’s plans. He handed her a few bills then turned to me.

“And I’ll see you later, Kelsey,” he said, his eyes dark with undeniable promise.

Heart twirl. Third time in the past hour. It was becoming a bad habit. I managed to nod and keep my voice casual.

“Sure. See you.”

I watched him go, admiring the view from behind as he left the room.

“I think he likes you,” Liv whispered.

I gave her a look of mock surprise. “You mean he
likes me
likes me?”

She grinned and nudged her elbow into my side. “Actually, it appears he more than
likes you
likes you.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t get into this. Even so, my mind made an undeniable noise of excitement, kind of a happy cheer.

That, I thought, not without embarrassment, must be what my students referred to as a
squee
.

“Mr. Clement is expecting you, Dr. March.” The receptionist at the satellite office of Edison Power rose from behind her desk.

I followed her down the carpeted hallway, my gaze scanning the historic photos on the walls that illustrated the history of Edison Power Company. We entered a corner office, and a bearded, gray-haired man with glasses and a tie patterned with light bulbs stepped forward.

“Professor March, I’m Harold Clement, Vice President of Energy Supply at Edison Power.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I replied. “I like your tie.”

He grinned and adjusted the knot. “I have a Christmas tie that flashes with red and green lights when you press a button. It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen, but I wear it every year.”

I smiled, liking him instinctively. “That’s dedication.”

“I’ll say.” He gestured to a small conference table by the windows. “Thanks for being available on such short notice. Our grant department forwarded me your email from the main office. I’m going out of town for a few days, but I didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to you before I leave.”

“I appreciate that.”

Though that was true, I was still guarded. Just two days ago, I’d emailed a query to the Edison grant department, asking if they would consider funding a meteorological project.

This morning, the receptionist of the Forest Grove office called asking if I could meet with Harold Clement. I’d brought all the Spiral Project documentation just in case, but one meeting wasn’t going to get me any funding.

“I brought you a copy of the full proposal.” I passed the binder to him. “The intention is to learn more about tornado formation so that we can increase forecast accuracy at longer lead times.”

I explained in detail about the project, admitting both the inconclusive evidence of the first phase and SciTech’s pulling of funds. Then I focused on the necessity of high-intensity data collection to revolutionize tornado forecasting.

“This is a project with measureable results,” I said, easily launching into the presentation I’d given countless times before. “Results that will lead us to understand a great deal more about tornado formation and structure. Though that sounds like a simple question, the answer itself is incredibly complex. And that’s where the Spiral Project comes in.

“If we can increase the lead time of tornado warnings, possibly even up to a full hour, first responders—including power companies—will be far better prepared to effectively carry out the phases of disaster management. And of course the economic, social, and governmental implications of disaster preparedness are immeasurable.”

Harold Clement was an excellent audience. He listened attentively, looked at all the documentation, asked questions, and solicited my opinion about how the Spiral Project could fit with Edison Power’s mission statement.

“It’s fascinating, Professor March,” he said, as we wrapped up the discussion. “I admit I’m concerned that SciTech killed their funding, but the concept of the study is remarkable.”

“Do you think Edison would consider funding it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Harold admitted. “We’ve been looking for a program to increase our visibility in the community while also improving our business structure and practices. That’s why your project caught my interest. At the same time, we’ve never funded a meteorology program before.”

“I’d be happy to come to your corporate office for a presentation, if necessary.”

“I’ll have to take this up with the board and let you know.” He stood, indicating our meeting was over. “I do personally find it very interesting, but I can’t promise any of my colleagues will feel the same way. I’ll be in touch.”

I’d heard those words before. And even though I’d been ready for rejection again, I couldn’t hold back my disappointment as I returned to King’s University.

Archer might believe I’d find
another way
to fund the Spiral Project, but research grants were a two-way street. Agencies gave you money, and you proved your hypotheses had merit. I hadn’t yet done that with the Spiral Project.

I went into my office and tried to forget about Edison Power as I worked on the coursework syllabi for my classes next year.

My cell phone rang a short time later. I looked at the caller ID. Anticipation flickered through me, banishing my earlier disappointment as I pressed the button to accept the call.

“What are you wearing?” I asked.

“A hard-on,” Archer said.

I laughed. “I hope you’re not in public.”

“I’m at your house. You really shouldn’t hide your spare key under a flowerpot on the front porch.”

“Oh. Well, this is Mirror Lake, not Gotham City.” I paused. “So, um, where are you in my house?”

“On your bed.”

My heart gave a little leap at the thought of him stretched out on my bed with an erection pushing at the front of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Well, I
was
looking through your underwear drawer,” he said. “Thinking of you in all that flimsy silk and lace is what gave me this boner.”

“You broke into my house and pawed through my underwear drawer?” I asked. “That is seriously creepy.”

“I was picking out something for you to put on tonight before you suck my cock.”

Heat jolted through me. I struggled for a breath.

“Um… wow?” I managed to say.

He chuckled. “When are you getting home?”

“Not for a few hours.” I glanced at the clock with regret. “I have a couple of meetings and a seminar this afternoon.”

He groaned. “Okay. I can wait.”

“You could get yourself off in the meantime.”

“Yes, I could,” he agreed. “But I’m not into flying solo these days.” His voice dropped an octave. “What are you wearing, Professor March?”

My skin tingled as his deep voice washed over me. Since this conversation was heading in a very welcome and specific direction, I found a thread of common sense and locked my office door.

“I’m wearing a gray linen skirt and white silk blouse,” I told Archer as I returned to my desk. “White silk camisole underneath. Three-inch pumps.”

“Nice. I like that you’re wearing a skirt. Shows off your pretty legs.”

“What are you wearing?” I asked again. “Besides the hard-on.”

“I
was
wearing jeans. But I had to take my dick out.”

I sank into my chair, my knees weakening at the thought of him lying on my bed with his cock sticking straight up like a sundial, indicating it was time for Kelsey March to have a meltdown orgasm.

“Are you
doing
anything with it?” I asked.

“Stroking it, yeah. Wishing I could plunge it into your sweet, warm pussy.”

God in heaven
. My heart was pounding. I pressed my thighs together.

“Does that make you wet?” he murmured.

“What do you think?” I retorted.

He laughed. “Are you in your office?”

“Yes.”

“Pull your skirt up.”

I squirmed. “Archer, I’m at
work
.”

“So pull your skirt up at
work
.”

With a groan, I edged the hem of my skirt up over my knees.

“All the way,” he prodded.

I wiggled until my skirt was bunched up around my thighs.

“What’ve you got on under there?” he asked.

“Bikini panties. White silk.”

“Touch them. Tell me how wet they are.”

I eased my hand between my thighs and touched my damp panties.

“So wet,” I breathed, slipping a finger beneath the material to my clit. “How the hell do you do this to me?”

“I know what you like, storm girl. Hold on a sec.” The phone went silent for a second before he came back on the line.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Got some of your underwear. Pink satin. I haven’t seen you in pink yet.”

“What are you doing with my underwear?”

“Rubbing it all over my cock.”

“Archer!” Shock flooded my chest.

“Mmm. Soft.”

I choked out a laugh. “That is so perverted.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re jerking off with my panties.”

“Uh huh. Feels good too, but not nearly as good as your pussy.”

“Oh my god, you are
killing
me.”

“Take yours off.” A husky note of command edged his voice. “Now.”

Holy crap. I was totally going to do it. I didn’t even have to think. I wedged my phone against my shoulder and stood to wiggle out of my panties. I kicked them to the side, shivering as a rush of cooler air tickled my sex.

“Are they off?” Archer asked.

“They’re off,” I said breathlessly.

“Pull your skirt all the way up to your waist.”

I did it. “Okay.”

“Now put one foot on your desk and touch yourself.”

I sank into my office chair again and rested my foot on the edge of my desk. Before I could second-guess the utter inappropriateness of what I was doing, I spread my hand over my sex and rubbed. I knew what was coming. And I could hardly wait.

“Imagine I’m watching you,” Archer murmured in my ear. “Spread open that pretty, pink slit and slide your finger inside. Feel how tight you are? You grip my cock like a fist. It’s so fucking incredible when I thrust inside you. Put your other hand under your shirt and play with your tits. Your nipples are hard, aren’t they? Is that why you like wearing sexy lingerie, so it rubs against your breasts and pussy?”

Heat filled my throat. My veins sizzled as Archer’s deep voice poured a ribbon of dirty talk into my ear. I closed my eyes and imagined his body lined with tension, his hand sliding over his thick erection—aided and abetted by a pair of my panties—the tautness of his muscles.

“I’m already about to come,” I confessed, sliding my thumb over my slippery clit.

“Not yet. Tell me what you want.”

I gripped the phone harder. I couldn’t tell him
everything
I wanted. Too much of it had never been part of the deal.

“You,” I whispered.
I want you. I want you with me, in my house, in my bed, in my body, in my life.

My pulse pounded. I pressed the heel of my hand against my clit.

“I want you inside me,” I said, pressure coiling through my lower body. “I want you pounding into me, hot and hard. I wish I was there right now, wish I could spread my legs for you… oh, I’m so ready…”

“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” Archer ordered, his voice hoarse. “Like you do when you’re alone at night.”

I slipped two fingers into my opening and squeezed my muscles around them with a gasp.

“Feels good?” Archer asked.

“As a substitute, yes,” I whispered, stroking my inner flesh. “But I want you.”

“I want you too. Want to plunge into you balls-deep and hear you beg for more. Want to feel your sweet cunt tightening around my cock.”

I worked my fingers faster, letting my legs open wider, picturing his hot gaze on the juncture of my thighs. Shivers rolled through me as the tension coiled harder.