Riding Out the Storm (2 page)

“I
had to get my hands on you,” he muttered, slipping his hand inside and cupping
a lace-clad breast, as he’d done when she’d been on his lap in the theater. She’d
never been so close to coming just by having a man caress her breasts.

She
let her head fall back in pleasure as his other hand hooked around her waist
and pulled her between his parted legs. He was sitting on something—not sitting
exactly, but leaning, so that he wasn’t quite so tall and her hips notched
against his. He was already aroused, and she rolled her hips for just a moment,
to feel the heat and throb of his cock, the hardness. He groaned, pinching her
nipple before he dragged her forward and kissed her, finding her mouth
unerringly in the darkness.

She
was off-balance, at his mercy as his lips caressed hers, his fingers plucked
her nipple, caressed the soft skin above. His erection grew against her belly,
so she bumped against it, every caress a symphony of pleasure. He released her
mouth to coast down her throat, as he’d done at the movies, and the sensation
of his soft lips and light stubble made her nipples harder, and sent pulses of
pleasure to her pussy. She squeezed her thighs together to try to ease the
sensation.

He
pushed aside the collar of her blouse and coursed his lips down her chest to
the swell of her breast. “Push your skirt up,” he said against the sensitive
skin. “Push your skirt up and straddle me.”

She
hesitated. “What are you sitting on?”

“A
palette of copy paper.”

“I
don’t think there’s space.”

“There
is.” He drew back, and she sensed he was looking at her, though she couldn’t
see in the dark room. “I know you want to wait for your anniversary to make
love, and I’m cool with that. But Christ, I need to take the edge off, here.”

She
coasted her fingertips down his belly to rest over his straining cock. “I can
suck you.”

He
groaned. “Not what I want. I mean, yeah, I want it. I fantasize about you doing
that all the time. But I want you with me when I do this. I want us both to get
there together. Straddle me, Jill.”

He
wanted a dry hump? She hadn’t done something like that since her freshman year
in high school. But the idea was too tempting. Ethan was too tempting. She
tugged at the hem of her skirt until she could straddle his hips. His hand at
the small of her back helped her find her balance, and she lowered her
already-soaked pussy over his bulge.

The
contact had them both gasping, and he closed his mouth over her nipple, hard.
She hadn’t even realized he’d pulled down the cup of her bra until she felt his
mouth, hot and wet, on her nipple. He sucked her deep, his tongue pressing her puckered
nub against the roof of his mouth, his fingers pulling on her other nipple. She
nestled against him, rolling her hips so her pussy rubbed along the length of
his cock through his pants.

She
wanted him to touch her more than anything, wanted to feel his fingers on her
swollen flesh, the callused tips against her slick folds.
God,
she was
wet, could smell her arousal, knew he could, too. She felt shameless as she
moved over him, but her position prevented her from the pressure she needed,
wanted, in order to come.

She
wanted him to make her come. More, she wanted to make him come, to make him
lose control beneath her. She shifted her knees on the cardboard boxes, but
couldn’t find the right position. Instead, she reached between them to close
her hand around his shaft through the fabric of his slacks. Thick and long and—

“I
don’t want to wait anymore,” she murmured against his temple, her fingers
flexing around his cock. “I want you inside me.”

He
groaned, then closed his hand around her wrist. “We’re waiting.”

“I
can’t—” Frustration raised her voice an octave, and he covered her mouth with
his, kissing her deep and long. Then he closed his hands over her hips and
lifted her. The movement glided his cock along her cleft, and she gasped into
his mouth.

“You
like that?” he asked.

She
tightened her arms around his shoulders and reached for his mouth with hers. He
indulged her kiss for a moment, then turned her and sat her on the palette,
bracing his hands on either side of her, his erection angled just over her
pussy.

“I
feel how wet you are. Jesus, I can smell you. I’m going to be able to smell you
all day.”

He
stroked against her pussy, and it was incredible, the friction of his slacks
against the satin of her panties, the ridge of his cock heating the folds of
her cunt, positioned perfectly as he thrust. She grasped his ass, the muscles
flexing beneath her hands as he play-fucked her, the head of his cock nudging
her swollen clit through their clothes.

She
angled her hips, pressing closer, each stroke sending electric jolts along her
nerves, each stroke driving a whimper of longing from her lips. He covered her
mouth with his and grasped her hips again, this time lifting her and turning
her so her back was to the door, the only space on the wall not lined with
shelves. He spread her legs around his hips and thrust forward, his cock
rubbing her cunt as she wrapped her legs around him.

Up
against the wall, her favorite fantasy. Jesus, Jesus, every roll of his hips
wound her tighter, made her pussy walls contract with the need for him to fill
her. His hands cupped her ass, the roughness of his fingertips arousing the
sensitive crease between her buttocks and thighs, and when he released her
mouth to rub his chin along the line of her throat, another pulse of wetness
made her body slick, aching for him.

He
pressed closer, the ridge of his cock against her cleft and everything in her
centered on the sensation, the heat, the throb, the tightening of her body. She
rode the edge of the pleasure for a moment before she shifted, bringing the
head of his cock against her. She came undone, gripping his shoulders,
thrusting back against him as fire shot through her veins, so hot she thought
she’d light up the room. She was vaguely aware of him grasping her hips still,
of the pulsing of his cock against her pussy, his soft groan against her ear,
accompanied by a rush of hot breath that sent one last thrill through her.

He
held her pinned to the wall a few moments longer, his heart thundering against
her chest, his breath heavy against her throat before he lifted his head.

“You
okay?”

Her
peals of laughter echoed off the walls.

****

A
few minutes later, their clothes rearranged but wrinkled, cleaned up thanks to
some hand wipes they found behind the coffee filters, Ethan opened the door and
slipped out. Jill waited a few moments and followed. Ethan still stood at the
copier, and flashed her a grin when she emerged. Her return smile faded when Zach
Purser appeared in the door. He looked from Jill to Ethan and back again, and a
smug understanding relaxed his features.

“Been
looking for the two of you everywhere. Mr. Strait has called a meeting and
wants you both there. Now.”

****

Jill
tried not to shift in her seat in the conference room, not wanting to draw
attention to herself. Already she felt like a neon sign flashed over her head:
Just Got Off in the Supply Room. Her clothes were hopelessly rumpled, her throat
prickled from where Ethan’s stubble had scraped, and her pussy still throbbed
from rubbing against his groin. She’d taken off her drenched panties, but could
still smell her own arousal.

She
wondered when Ethan would discover where she’d tucked her panties. She did her
best not to look at him as Mr. Strait led the weekly meeting. She prayed her
boss wouldn’t call for input, because her thoughts were way too scattered to be
coherent.

Out
of the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan lift his knuckles to his lips, and a
smile curved his mouth.

He
was smelling her on his skin. God.
She hadn’t thought she could be
turned on again so soon. Wait until he found out what she’d tucked in his
pocket when they were straightening their clothes.

She
felt another pair of eyes on her and looked up to see Zach watching her. Of
course he’d know what she’d been doing in the supply room. Why had he been the
one to come looking for her? She returned his gaze defiantly. She no longer had
feelings for him, had fallen into a workable relationship, but the smug
expression on his face gave her pause. Was he jealous?

Before
she had time to reason it out, a movement from Ethan drew her gaze. His
nostrils flared and when he raised his eyes to look at her, they were dark with
desire, and a promise of retribution.

He’d
found her panties in his pocket.