Maliciously Obedient (BBW Erotic Romance) (27 page)

Words and action escaped her as she melted into Mike's mouth and Jeremy's hands started stroking her from behind. She imagined both of them making love to her at the same time and she almost came right on the spot, nearly pushed over the edge by the lush precision and timing of Mike's tongue flicking back and forth over her nub as Jeremy's mouth covered her breast and his hand stroked her ass.

Mike continued loving her clit, driving her crazy, tongue lightly playing against her now and bringing her ever closer to the edge. She could smell them both and also herself, one hand in Jeremy's hair as he licked her breast, the other in Mike's hair as he savored her pussy. There were two beautiful men loving her body and it was too much, way more than one woman could withstand, but still she wanted more and more.

And more.

Now Mike moved up to kiss her and she could taste herself again. Jeremy's hand slid down to her clit and she thrust her hips hungrily forward to meet it. He started licking her ear, Mike pinching her nipple with his fingers and Jeremy's hand stroking her hair. Both men were reaching down to her pussy with their long arms and she could no longer tell whose fingers were inside her and whose were teasing her clit. “Oh, my God, don't stop,” she moaned.

Jeremy looked down at her. “You're so beautiful,” he said.

Mike stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. “I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

“We both have.”

Lydia could feel tears streaming down her face. “How can this be?”

The two men exchanged a puzzled glance, and Mike said, “How could it not be?”

It seemed to Lydia that she was smiling with her entire body. She reached down and took one of their cocks in each of her hands, pulling Jeremy's close to her mouth so that she could taste him. Mike was rock-hard in her other hand and she stroked him slowly and gently until a slippery drop of pre-cum oozed out onto the palm of her hand. She could really taste Jeremy's cock now as the head seemed to be swelling even larger inside her mouth. He gasped and she could tell he was about to...

Suddenly he pulled out. “No, not yet, I want to be in you.”

Sweet, perfect words of anguished need – because she very much wanted Jeremy inside her. She wanted both of them inside her. Lydia put her hands on Mike's shoulders and pushed him down on his back, straddling him –

Beep beep beep!
What the fuck? Hazy and stoked, Lydia pawed her nightstand in search of the damn phone. Clit on fire and twitching –
twitching!
– she awoke to find herself in a small patch of wetness.

What

the

fuck?

A dream had made her come in her sleep? The wetness wasn't pee – she knew that. Only once, in college, had this happened, after an intense night of partying and her first (
and only
) one-night stand with a guy who loved pussy so much he ate her out for half an hour, bringing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. The next night, her fantasies had spread into her unconscious, apparently, because she had awoken exactly like this, hips thrusting against a ghost lover and bed slightly wet from her juices.

But this? A threesome dream with Matt's friend
Jeremy
?

And
Michael Bournham
, of all people?

Slamming her head back against the pillow, she shifted her legs to take the stinging, tickling pressure off her poor, maligned clit, which popped like a Mexican jumping bean, nerves on autopilot.

If she were going to have a sex dream about anyone, it should be Matt – right? Between the supply closet, the elevator, and the nightclub she was about as frustrated and needy as anyone could get, confused and struggling with her feelings for him.

How on earth did that come out in her subconscious as a
threesome with Michael Bournham and Jeremy?

Grabbing her pillow, she screamed into it, the muffled vibrations not enough release to get out how weird this all was.

Coffee and a shower would have to do.

At least she could check
masturbate
off her list of things to do today.

Overachiever.

By the time she'd sucked down a cup of coffee and finished with a quick rinse, she knew the day would be fine. Absent-mindedly drying her hair, she thought through the day's events. Facing Matt wouldn't be that horrible – at least she hadn't dreamed about
him
between her legs.

Every other man she'd met for ten minutes or less – but not Matt.

Bzzzz.

“Who calls at 6:20 a.m.?” Lydia wondered, turning the hair dryer off as she watched her mobile phone vibrate across the bathroom counter, lighting up. Every night as she brushed her teeth she plugged it in here, the easiest, most reliable location in her apartment. Every other flat surface was covered with books or a computer, so the bathroom it was.

The number wasn't one she recognized, so she ignored it. Turning the hair dryer back on, she closed her eyes and combed through her damp hair with her fingers, willing it to dry faster. She had to hop on the train today and couldn't miss the 7:07.

She was putting on her makeup a few minutes later when it rang again. Same number.
Hmm.
Might as well pick it up
, she thought. Maybe one of her brothers changed their cell number and something was wrong with her mom or dad.

“Hello?”

“Hi. So about those travel arrangements.” Oh, that voice. Oh, how that voice triggered so many involuntary physical reactions that she absolutely, utterly did not want to have at this moment at 6:20 in the morning when she was on her way to work and would face him within the next two hours. It wasn’t that she was afraid to face him and it wasn’t that she dreaded the consequences of what she’d done with his travel, it was that she increasingly couldn’t trust herself when she was anywhere near him.

Dreams notwithstanding.

Being on the phone didn’t involve physical proximity but dammit, from the way her throat tightened, how blood flooded inappropriate places that had nothing to do with professionalism in the workplace, and how she could feel herself needing to control her breath – his damn voice just drove her lustfully mad.

Those handful of words already had her off her game and set the tone for something she knew would shift her entire relationship to her job and to herself.

“How’s, uh...lovely Detroit there? You having fun in Motown?” She kept her voice as light as possible because if she didn’t she’d end up talking to him in a sultry, sexy tone that would systematically destroy every shred of feminist belief that she had held for most of her life.

“Detroit was...interesting,” his voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. and she felt her abs curl in, her body go on alert, the steady warmth that had begun to spread turning into a sudden, shattering tingle.

“Interesting. Glad to hear it. You’re there for a couple days, right?”

“No, actually I’m back in Boston.”

“That was fast. How did you manage that?”

“I have my ways.” Oh, this conversation was
not
going well. What had she done? She thought it would be funny, really, to pick the seediest part of Detroit, the cheapest possible ways of booking his trip, and had done so with great gusto, from declining to add car insurance to his rental car to picking the tiniest, cheapest option available, to choosing some motel that – who knew why – only cost $39.95 a night. What had he experienced? She knew that this was going to be something she would pay for, but hey – Matt was the one who said that they needed to economize so if anybody was going to pay for anything, it needed to be as cheap as possible, right?

His teeth were gritted; she could hear it in his voice as he said, “I saw some
lovely
sights in Detroit. Let’s just say I got the insider's tour and was able to spend a not inconsiderable amount of time among real Detroit-ers. I gained a healthy appreciation for government in the Motor City.”

What the hell did that mean?
“Matt,” she said, clearing her throat, trying to work the nervousness out of her voice.
Keep it professional Lydia
, she told herself. “I was very careful in booking your travel. I looked up the rental car company, the airline, and the hotel on major social media sites and found that they met the criteria you laid out for me.”

“I can hear what you’re stepping in there, Lydia,” he responded.

Silence. “What do you mean?” she asked, not just playing dumb on purpose at this point. She was genuinely perplexed and wondered why he seemed so angry, and yet cagey. He wasn’t telling her what had happened or why he was calling her at 6:20 in the morning at home. Dave never called her at home,
ever
. There’s no such thing as an emergency for an administrative assistant. That kind of crap might happen at the executive level, but this? This was invading her personal life on a level that wasn’t fair.

A call at home should have come with an invitation for a date attached.

Not a reprimand.

“You booked me in coach, first of all.”

“Yes, the tickets were only $217. Isn’t that fabulous for our budget?”

“I flew Boston to Minneapolis to Dallas to Detroit, for fuck's sake.”

“Oh. Too many legs?” She bit her cheek to stop from laughing.

“I sat in someone else’s body fluids for the entire first leg of the trip. They nearly threw me off of the plane when I put up a fuss.”

“Why would you sit in someone else’s body fluids?” Silence.

“Why would you book me on a plane that would involve my sitting in body fluids?”

The man was impossible. “We could go around in circles on this one but I don’t see how it’s
my
fault that someone might have bled, peed, uh...something more intimate on your seat. Why didn't you didn’t just change seats or catch another flight?”

A ragged sigh was his response. A simmer started to bubble over in her. Bournham Industries had a very tight policy about how much money could be allocated to each section of the trip itself, from a per diem for your breakfast right down to the amount of a taxicab they would cover. She didn’t feel like going into all the specifics with him, but if he pushed her, she certainly would. She could administrate him to death verbally if that’s what this was going to take, but none of this was her fault.

The glee she felt, though, was all hers to enjoy. Following the rules had paid off in its own sneaky little way.

“And then there’s the car.”

“Yes. I got a great deal on a nice, local place.”

“It was the size of a coffin on wheels,” he barked.

“Really? You’ve been in a coffin before?” Keeping her voice chipper was the hardest part.

“Lydia.” That voice, again, as if he were correcting a naughty girl. She decided to throw it right back at him.

“Matt.” She could hear his breathing intensify on the phone.
What was the point of all of this,
she wondered. Why was he calling? They'd be at work in an hour and a half. “I trust you got great mileage efficiency on that car, thus saving our department even more money on gas and commuting costs for you during your trip.”

Officious.
Officious, officious, officious
. She was going to play her game, not his. She checked her mascara in the mirror, putting her phone on speaker.

“Did you just put me on speaker?” he asked.

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“Is someone else in the room?” An accusation, tinged by worry, came through loud and clear. What if there was? What if she'd gone to a bar and picked up a guy or two (
Jeremy and Michael Bournham
) and had them here at home still? Applying a thin line of eye liner, she paused a few beats before answering.

“No.”
Why should you care?
she thought. But he did. And it thrilled her much more than she wished it did. Blusher seemed redundant – her face burned, pink and eager, as she checked herself out in the mirror.

“Okay.” Dammit. She had just given him information about herself. Now he knew she lived alone, or was he fishing? Was that just a question? She was way, way, way out of her element. And why was he grilling her about the trip.

“And let’s talk about the hotel.”

“Yes! An Embassy Suites for only $39.95.”

“Did you check the spelling of Embassy Suites? They spell it S-W-E-E-T-S.”

Suppressed snicker. “It got perfectly fine reviews on travel social media sites and it was the lowest priced hotel in the entire metro-Detroit area.”

“That doesn’t come as a surprise,” he said dryly.

“One of the reasons I picked it,” she said, disingenuous with great intent, “was that it said – I don’t remember the exact wording but something about the place – that ‘Sunshine brought a smile to his face’. Isn’t that fabulous? I thought ‘that’s the place for Matt’ when he goes on his travels. Saves Bournham Industries money, close to the client and lots of sunshine.”

“Sunshine is the name of the local prostitute.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I see.” Lowering her voice, she said in a whisper, “You know you can't bill that cost to your expense account, right?”

Click.
Motherfucker! Did he just hang up on her? No way. Who the hell did he think he was? Mister alpha male strutting his stuff, ordering her around, calling her at home, invading her personal life and – ugh! Lydia just couldn’t get her swirling mess of emotions about him to calm down long enough to figure out whether he pissed her off or turned her on –

Or both.

She had clearly hit a nerve, though, because whatever had happened on that trip had happened as a result of following what he told her to the absolute letter of the law. The entire two-night business trip cost less than $400. Some bean counter in accounting was going to be overjoyed at coming about $750 under the allocated travel expense budget.