Unbound (21 page)

“Really? When?” I close my eyes, as he lets his hands slide further down my body, slips them under my dress, hooks his fingers around the edge of my panties. It’s such an arousing feeling, standing here defenseless, that I feel myself getting wet.

“When you tried to keep me from working with your attempts at flirting.” He pulls my panties down, crouches down in front of me and pulls them over my feet, taking my high heels off at the same time and tossing them aside carelessly. I can only watch breathlessly, while a shiver of desire overwhelms me. He’s serious. He’s going to do it. Here.

“I didn’t keep you from working,” I contradict him in a trembling voice. “You weren’t paying any attention to me. If I had been, you would have been standing here much sooner.” He runs his hands upward over my legs as he stands up again and I gasp for breath when I feel his fingers on my naked mount of Venus. I let him feel his way confidently forward and run them through my wet slit.

“You’re ready for me,” he says, with a growl of contentment. “Good.” It shocks and arouses me equally that we’re standing here, so exposed. On my first day up here, Catherine Shepard came straight into his office, after knocking briefly, so I’d much rather relocate to another place. The bedroom next door, for example. But, if I’m honest, the danger also holds a certain fascination, and the thought of being caught having sex here really turns me on.

Besides, I can’t do anything to stop Jonathan. I’m like putty in his hands. He enters me deeply with two fingers and seals my mouth shut with a demanding kiss. His thumb confidently targets my sensitive bud and makes slow circles around it. The touches drain all the strength from my legs and I have to hold onto him so as not to fall down. When I moan out loud, he releases my lips.

“You’ve acquired a taste for this, haven’t you, Grace?” He laughs.

“Do you like the idea of me screwing you in front of the window?”

My breath falters as he begins to thrust his fingers into me rhythmically.

“There are two ways for me to give you a good seeing to,” he says roughly. “I could lift you up and set you down on my dick. You’d wrap your legs round me and I’d thrust into you, faster and faster, till you screamed as you came.” With his fingers, he mimics what his penis would do and I moan.

“Or I could turn you round.” He withdraws from me, and as he does so and I gasp in shock as I suddenly find my hands leaning against the glass and feel as though I’m about to plummet downward. Only the glass is holding me now—and Jonathan’s hand, which is resting on my hip, while his other hand pushes up my skirt and penetrates me again, thrusting into me with an even rhythm. It’s a crazy feeling. My whole body is tingling and I can feel the first internal tremors, the contraction of the muscles I can’t seem to control.

Far below me, I can see cars and people on the street in front of the building, and of course there are people working in the surrounding office towers, none of which is as tall as the Huntington Ventures building. The thought that someone might be able to see us in this unmistakable position increases my desire, making my juices flow over Jonathan’s hand.

“Then I’ll fuck you from behind and people outside will be able to see the way your breasts are pressed up against the windowpane with each thrust and the way your face contorts with pleasure when you’re in the throes of orgasm and you can feel me coming right after you, deep inside you.”

His words are like a drug spreading through my body and clouding my senses. I groan ceaselessly, pushing myself against his fingers as they carry on stimulating me. “Does that make you horny, Grace?” he asks, pressing hard against my swollen pearl, which sends a new wave of pleasure rolling through me.

“Yes,” I breathe, completely beside myself, and at first I don’t notice the knock at the door. But Jonathan reacts immediately. He pulls his fingers back out of me, rearranges my dress and turns me around, so that I’m facing him, surprised and swaying. There’s no time for anything else because Catherine Shepard has already opened the door and is looking into the office.

“Sorry,” she says, looking shocked.

She’d have to be pretty dim not to notice that Jonathan has just been doing something, which has nothing to do with balance sheets and business reports. Because even though he’s no longer touching me in very intimate places—his reflexes really are remarkable—we’re still standing far too close together and too far away from the desk and all the important papers. And my shoes and panties are on the floor in front of us, which Catherine Shepard luckily can’t see because the desk is in the way. What she definitely can see, however, are my cheeks, red from shame and from being close to orgasm.

The embarrassing situation is almost worth it just for her stunned expression, though.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Her voice sounds husky, somehow shocked. As if she’d been expecting anything except catching Jonathan and me in a compromising situation. “This just arrived.” She’s holding an envelope in her hand. Jonathan looks over his shoulder with a stony expression.

“I’ll take a look at it later,” he says, and his tone of voice makes it unmistakably clear that he regards Catherine Shepard’s intrusion as a disturbance. He can reprimand someone using the tone of his voice alone.

And his secretary knows that well enough to understand him right away. “Of course,” she says, leaving again and shutting the door firmly behind her.

For a moment we stand stock still, but then I have to giggle because the situation is so absurd. “See, I told you she might come in,” I tease him. “That was close.”

Jonathan turns his head back toward me and examines me with a furrowed brow then he bends down and picks up my shoes and panties. He obviously doesn’t find it funny.

He takes hold of my upper arm with his free hand, almost roughly, and pulls me through the office into the adjoining bedroom. He closes the door behind him and turns the key, before dropping my things and pushing me toward the bed, shoving me onto it backwards and standing there in front of it himself. The determined expression with which he is examining me ought to scare me. But instead I find it arousing. I lift my upper body and prop myself up on my elbows. I know that the low cut neckline of my dress reveals a great deal of my bust in this position, but that doesn’t bother me. Quite the opposite.

“Aren’t we going to do it in front of the window?” I ask regretfully.

“Oh yes,” he says. “We’re going to do it wherever we want. Including in front of the window. But only if we’re in no danger of being disturbed.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

He raises his eyebrows. “What? To be caught by my secretary? No. I just hadn’t …really thought it through.”

It didn’t go the way Jonathan Huntington wanted and he’s obviously not happy about that. Which makes me grin again. My arousal, together with the fact that I’m lying on his bed without my panties on, has probably gone to my head.

“Has she caught you out before?” I ask, curious.

“Grace, weren’t you listening to me? I don’t usually have sex with women I work with, neither at the office nor at home. Because I know how it would end—with tears and demands that I can’t fulfill.” He shakes his head, as if reminded him of something. “Which I can’t fulfill in your case either, don’t forget.” He’s looking at me earnestly, but I don’t want to think about that right now. I’d rather think about where and with whom he does it then, if all his employees are out of the question.

“But you have sex, don’t you?” The question is superfluous, of course, and it seems to amuse him, because he smiles.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

His smile shrinks, becomes less wide. “Here for instance,” he says, “With you. As an exception.”

I swallow, because I can tell he’s avoiding the question. Has he really had sex here before, or does he just not want to tell me anything about that club which I’ve thought so much about?

Now that Jonathan’s willing to have an affair with me, the thought of the club is both thrilling and repellent at the same time. I know so little about him. What can it be that he’s clearly looking for and finding there? And with whom?

Jonathan looks as if he’s just thought of something. He turns around and disappears into the office again. When he comes back, he lays a pack of condoms on the night stand. Then he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders me and adds, “Slowly.”

A hot shudder runs down my spine as I sit up and kneel on the bed. For a brief moment, I feel self-conscious, but then I breathe deeply and undo the ties of my wrap dress, letting it fall open. I’m naked underneath except for the black lace-trimmed bra, which I’m still wearing, because Jonathan already took my panties off.

It’s a strange feeling to undress in front of him, but I’ve already done much more extreme things at his house. Besides, there’s something sleazy about it, which really turns me on. It brings out a side of me that until recently I would never have guessed I had. As if in slow motion, I roll one shoulder forward and slip the fabric of the dress over it until it falls into the crook of my arm. Then I repeat the action on the other side, slip my dress off completely, and throw it down next to the bed.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, because I need his reassurance in order to have the courage to go on doing all this.

Jonathan nods. “Carry on.” He’s unbuttoned his shirt, but now he’s standing there motionless again, just looking at me with that dangerous sparkle in his eyes. I’m flooded by arousal and I bite my lips as I reach my hands back and release the fastenings of my bra and slip it off me, too.

My nipples are so hard and erect that they almost hurt and a shiver runs through me. Because I have no idea what he’s planning to do to me now, and that increases my arousal immeasurably.

He takes a step towards the bed. “And now undress me, Grace,” he says harshly.

I slide over to him greedily and take hold of the belt of his black jeans, undo it with trembling fingers, and open his fly. His penis is completely erect and stretches proudly toward me, just as impressive as last time, and I take hold of it, fascinated, feeling its steely hardness beneath the silky skin. Then it gives a sudden jerk and I look up at Jonathan who is looking down at me with blazing eyes. “Put it in your mouth.”

My heart beats wildly at his demand. It’s all still so new to me and I feel a bit out of my depth too. But I’m way past feeling any shame. I want to taste him and I find it an incredible turn-on to do something so intimate to him, so I open my mouth and close my lips around the thick tip of his penis, feel my way around it carefully with my tongue. I can smell his distinctive scent, earthy, and masculine, and arousing. I can taste his essence as I carefully begin to suck him.

He groans and thrusts his hips forward so he slips a little further inside and then a little further. He’s completely filling my mouth now, stretching out my lips, and the thought that he’s about to do the same thing to my vagina again makes my internal muscles contract. New waves of heat rise inside me and

I begin to suck him greedily, circling him boldly with my tongue.

“Yes, that’s it, Grace,” Jonathan pants beneath me. He puts his hands to the back of my head and starts to enter my mouth with small thrusts. At first I keep still, overcome by this new experience. But when he suddenly moves too abruptly and hits the back of my throat I start to choke. Tears rush into my eyes and I pull my head back quickly, letting him slip out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling a bit apprehensive in case he’s disappointed in me now, but he’s already busy taking his pants off completely. Then he sits down next to me on the bed and looks at me.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “That’s one of my rules, too.”

That’s theoretically reassuring, I think. But since I’m pretty sure that there’s hardly anything Jonathan wouldn’t do, it’s a deceptive kind of security. If I get involved with him, he’ll take me to my limits, and I have no idea what might be waiting for me there.

He seems to notice that I’m tense because he pulls me onto the bed with him and lies down next to me. He’s still wearing his unbuttoned shirt and I slip it over his shoulders and take it off.

“Since when have you worn gray, by the way?” I ask him, running my hand over his well-formed arms and muscular back with pleasure. “Have you run out of black shirts?” I grin, as I think of something. “Or is today the day of exceptions?”

A tired smile spreads across his face.

“Do you want to know what happens when I wear a white shirt?”

I giggle. “Do you have one then? I thought you only wore dark clothes.”

“If you’ve got so much time to think, Miss Lawson,” he says, stroking my breasts with his hand and rubbing their erect tips, “then perhaps it’s time we kept you on your toes a bit more.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea, my Lord,” I reply in a playfully innocent way, snuggling up closer to him, hearing the rumbling in his chest as he laughs.

His nearness is intoxicating and I enjoy feeling his hot skin against mine, feeling the strong, firm muscles underneath. I haven’t had a chance to touch him and explore his body yet, so I take advantage of this opportunity. My hands wander restlessly all over him and I kiss every inch of him that I can reach: his shoulder, his neck, and then his mouth.

At first, he just lies there and lets me do it. Then he suddenly returns my kiss with surprising passion and pulls me really close to him, only to let me go again abruptly a moment later. My hands are still resting on his chest, so I can feel how heavily he’s breathing and how fast his heart is beating. It’s intoxicating to see desire in the eyes of this beautiful man who clearly wants me.

But what he does then surprises me. He opens the drawer of the nightstand once more and takes out a piece of long, white cloth. A silk scarf.

Wow, I think, torn between fascination and fear.

“What are you going to do?” I ask breathlessly, letting him wrap the silk scarf around my wrist and thread it loosely through the bars of the bedstead, pulling it out on the other side.