Guilty Pleasure (9 page)

And then the footsteps in the hallway stop, and my skin prickles, and I know someone is watching us. I thought it was hot when the woman in the cinema was looking, but it was nothing like this. Probably because she couldn’t really see, so she only suspected we were up to something. She couldn’t know for certain.

Whoever is watching us now can’t have any doubt. I rest my head on my hands and angle my hips up a little higher, and oh, fuck, Ethan is banging me right in the g spot now, and I can feel the pressure of it, the delicious tension that makes me feel like I need to come all over him in a big, hot gush of pleasure. I’m so wet I can feel my own juices running down the inside of my thighs.

I can’t stop myself thinking about whoever is stood in the doorway. Is it a man, or a woman? Do they like what they see? Is it turning them on? Are they thinking about joining in? Do they want to make this into a kinky threesome, like the one we saw when we first walked in? I can’t say I want that, but I like the idea of Ethan getting all alpha and macho and saying
get the fuck away from my woman
and
you can look, but you can’t touch.

I have to know. I turn my head.

Cal Bailey is stood in the doorway.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. I try to get up, but Ethan keeps me where I am with a hand on my shoulder and a hard thrust of his big cock. He holds himself inside me, deep inside me, as my pulse rockets and my palms start to sweat. ‘It’s okay, Tasha,’ he says, and his voice soothes me, calms me.

I start to breathe again, though it isn’t easy. I’m so full of so many mixed up feelings –– excitement at being caught, arousal at being caught like this, joy at being caught with Ethan. And fear, too, sick, swelling fear about what happens now.

‘Cal won’t talk,’ Ethan says, and I believe him. ‘You can trust him.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Tasha.’ He starts to move again, and it feels so good that I forget how to breathe again. ‘Look at him.’

In my shock, I’d turned my head away. I turn back now, though it takes a certain amount of will. Ethan is fucking me harder now, fucking me back into the rhythm that we had before. He slides a hand over my hip and down between my legs and starts to work my clit, and I moan. I can’t help myself.

And then I focus on Cal. He’s moved into the room, though the door is still open, and he’s leaning against the wall with one of those glossy erotic prints hanging next to his painfully handsome face. He’s wearing a close-fitting black shirt that only emphasises his dark eyes, with the sleeves rolled up to elbow height to show off his tanned forearms and chunky steel watch, and he’s sliding a hand inside his jeans.

Oh. My. God.

He lifts his other hand to his mouth and licks his hand, then pulls his erection free from his underwear and rubs that moist palm over the head of his cock. I think I just about come right then. It rushes into me, almost, almost, but Ethan doesn’t let me get there, the bastard. He slows his pace and gentles the fingers working my stiff clit, showing me my climax without letting me get there. ‘Harder,’ I order him, sliding my hands to the edge of the desk and gripping it tight. ‘Harder.’

‘Patience,’ Ethan says, and after all the times of
hurry, Tasha, hurry
, it’s almost funny that now we’ve finally been caught, he’s telling me to wait. He’s fucking me slower now, pulling his cock almost all the way out before easing it slowly back into my cunt, and I can feel myself tighten around him as he teases me, as he teases Cal.

And it seems that Cal is enjoying it, as I glance across at him and our gazes meet and he raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, as my gaze drops to his cock. He’s wanking himself harder now, stroking the length of his stiff prick with one hand as the other circles the base.

This is wrong, this is so wrong, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited in my life. Every thrust of Ethan into my body makes me gasp and scream. He’s working my clit harder now, as Cal works his cock, and the three of us seem to have some sort of rhythm going. Cal doesn’t move, makes no move to touch me. He simply stands there and watches and pleasures himself as Ethan possessively fucks me.

And I realise that this is what I was searching for. This was what I wanted. To have such complete control, such power, to be feminine and wild and so alive inside my own skin. Not trying to compete with the men, not trying to be one, but simply enjoying the bliss of being a woman being fucked by a man who loves the differences between us, who craves them. Ethan seems to understand that, to need it as much as I do. I reach back a hand, and he takes it, our fingers intertwining, and I look back at him over my shoulder. ‘I love you,’ I say.

Ethan stops. For a moment I think I’ve said the wrong thing, that I’ve ruined everything as he pulls out of me. I can hear his breathing, loud and ragged, feel the heat coming from his lean frame. He takes my shoulders and pulls me upright, then he turns me round, pushes me back onto the desk. I set my bum on the edge, lean back on my elbows as Ethan puts himself back between my thighs, grasping the back of my knees and pushing my legs up so that he can push himself balls deep inside me. ‘I love you too,’ he tells me as he gets to work. And then my arms are around his neck, pulling him closer, and we’re locked together in a grinding, moaning haze. The rest of the room seems to disappear, along with the rest of the world, as we lay ourselves open to each other, our feelings, our bodies naked and exposed.

This was what I was missing. This was what I wanted. And as I hold onto Ethan, I look across at Cal, and know that was what I wanted, too. His face is flushed, his hand making slick noises as he fucks his fist. He twists his wrist as he reaches the head, repeats the move over and over, his pace matching ours. I can feel my climax building. I’m almost there, almost there, and I hover on the peak of it for long, delicious seconds, hover there as Cal groans and spits out a harsh, crude word, then with one final twist of his wrist, drops spurt after spurt of come all over the polished hardwood floor.
God, I love men
.

I turn back to Ethan, grip his forearms tightly as he pushes my knees even further back, as he leans over me, putting his weight on me, and slams his mouth against mine. He shoves a hand between us and works me hard, fucks me harder, slamming me into a climax that has me arching my back and sobbing out his name, digging my hands into his hair to anchor myself as he makes me ride out every single second of it, not slowing, not stopping. Then he plants his hands on the desktop either side of my head and pushes himself upright, looks down at me. ‘Tasha,’ he says, his voice hoarse. ‘You are so very lovely.’ Then he pulls out of me, wraps a hand around his thick, swollen cock, and comes all over my belly and my breasts in hot, possessive stripes.

Chapter Ten

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur. We spend it together, mostly naked, mostly declaring our love for each other. It’s fabulous. There really is no other word for it. It’s the first weekend in a long time that I haven’t thought about work, that I haven’t felt guilty that I’m not at work, that I’ve felt happy to just be. We lie together under soft cotton sheets, and Ethan tells me how much he hates this house, the empty rooms and the cold and the echo and the senseless feeling of waste. ‘Why don’t you sell it?’ I ask him.

‘It reminds me of who I was,’ he tells me. ‘Before.’

‘And who was that?’

‘A self-absorbed prick,’ he tells me. ‘I had no time for anyone, for anything but my own ambition, my own greed. I wanted too much of everything. I married my wife because I knew being married to her would improve my standing at work. I didn’t care that I didn’t particularly like her, or that she didn’t particularly like me.’

‘I like you,’ I tell him, trailing a hand over his naked chest and finding a nipple. I play with it. He smacks my hand away. I play with it some more.

‘Stop that,’ he says.

‘Or what?’

He has me on his back and has himself between my thighs before I can catch my breath. I’m still slippery from the last time we had sex, and he slides into me easily. It still makes me gasp. We fuck quickly, desperately, then we drag ourselves out of bed and into the shower and into our work clothes. We grab takeout coffee and we head for the train, sitting side by side as it bumps and sways along the track. Normally I’d be glued to the emails on my phone, but not today. Today I’m far too busy tracing the lines on Ethan’s palm as he draws lazy circles on the inside of my knee. It feels like the world has changed, like I have changed.

And I like it. I’ve finally got something more in my life than work, something to look forward to, someone to share things with. I can see now how far my life was tipped in one direction, and one direction only –– work –– and like I’m finally starting to redress that balance. I understand why I couldn’t do it before, as well. Ethan has showed me things I didn’t even know I wanted.

Filthy, dirty, wonderful things. For a second, my mind flickers to Cal, and I feel a faint clutch of unease, but I shake it off. He was as much a part of what happened as we were, and knowing what I know about him now seems to level the playing field.

The train stops at our station and we get off, then I head for the office as Ethan heads for coffee. We agreed that it’s best if we keep our relationship a secret at work, for the time being anyway. Neither of us is quite ready to take that step, although we both know that we will, and soon.

I head for my desk, take my seat and switch on my computer and get to work. I can’t keep the smile from my face. Not even the long list of new alterations I need to make to the Donovan plans can stop the feeling of happiness from swelling inside me. My mind works easily, the ideas flow, and I suddenly begin to see what was wrong with the original plans, what they lacked. I make the changes, a thrilling sense of excitement rushing through me. This is the best work I’ve done so far. There’s no way Donovan won’t be happy with it, which means I won’t have to work with him any more.

Cal strolls in. I ignore him. Ethan walks in and heads straight to his office, and I ignore him too. Over the next few hours, both of them get called into Mr Thomas’ office, which is interesting. I’ll quiz Ethan about it later.

And then, at twenty past one, ten minutes before I’m supposed to take a lunch break, Mr Thomas calls me into his office.
Is this about the shopping centre?
I wonder. My palms go clammy and I rub them dry on the sides of my trousers before I knock and walk into his office. It’s the biggest one in the place, obviously, with two drawing tables and endless framed prints of all the work he’s done. Or rather, the work that his associates have done on his behalf. He’s got two big framed photos of his sons at their uni graduations on the wall, and a small one of his daughter in her wedding dress. I happen to know she’s a doctor.

I close the door behind me, and stand there fidgeting like a fool. I don’t know what else to do. I can feel excitement sparking inside me, as I wonder what I’m going to be asked to do, to contribute.

‘For goodness’ sake, stop fidgeting and sit down,’ Mr Thomas barks at me.

And suddenly, I stop feeling excited. Something about the way Mr Thomas is looking at me makes alarm bells start ringing, as each heartbeat comes too quickly, too soon. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

‘Tasha,’ Mr Thomas says. ‘I’m afraid we have something of a situation here.’

‘What do you mean?’ I grip the edges of my chair to make sure I don’t fall out of it. I feel like the walls are moving closer, and I don’t even know why. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s not good.

‘Some complaints have been made about your behaviour,’ Mr Thomas continues. ‘I have to say I expected more from you, Tasha, but clearly my faith in you was misplaced.’ He sighs.

‘What sort of complaints?’ My mind starts to race. Oh, god. This is about the weekend, isn’t it? That’s why Cal and Ethan were both in here earlier. Maybe one of them told him. Maybe they both did, although I can’t understand why they would do it, what they stand to gain. I look at the photos on the wall, and I think about the fact that I am the only female employee who isn’t clerical staff or a cleaner. I think about how hard I’ve worked, how I’ve neglected the rest of my entire life, the rest of myself, and something inside me snaps. ‘Who complained?’ I ask him again. ‘Was it Cal Bailey?’

Mr Thomas moves back behind his desk. ‘Have you done something that would warrant a complaint from Cal?’

‘I want to know exactly what I’m supposed to have done,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve worked extremely hard for this firm. I put in more hours than everyone else. I bring in just as many clients, if not more, and…’

‘Michael Donovan has made a formal complaint,’ he says, cutting me dead.

No. Oh, no. ‘What about?’

‘He is quite tired of your endless flirting, Tasha, as well as your incompetence.’

I straighten up. I can feel all the fight draining out of me, right out of me, as I realise what is really happening here. ‘Michael Donovan made a pass at me,’ I say.

‘He warned me you might say that,’ Mr Thomas smirks. ‘After all, he did turn you down.’

‘No. No, it wasn’t like that. He grabbed me, tried to kiss me.’

‘Were there any witnesses?’

‘Do you honestly think he would have assaulted me if there were?’

‘You might want to be careful what you say,’ Mr Thomas informs me. ‘Assault is a dangerous accusation to make, Tasha.’

‘It’s not dangerous when it’s the truth!’

‘I’ll make this easy for you.’ Mr Thomas leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers. ‘You can either resign now, or I can start the process of terminating your employment.’

‘He assaulted me,’ I say. My voice sounds strange, harsh, shocked. ‘He grabbed me, touched me. Against my will.’

‘It’s your word against his,’ Mr Thomas points out. He shakes his head. ‘I knew hiring a woman was a bad idea.’

I stagger back, and for a moment I think I might fall, but I keep my balance, just. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Tasha,’ he says, and his tone is so patronising that I’m tempted to punch him. ‘Even if what you say about Michael Donovan is true, it’s obvious that you led him on.’