WITCHCRAFT (A Paranormal Romance) (42 page)

The rubbing and grinding was sending her wild, the pleasure so strong that it hurt, but neither of them stopped. Karen's hands added force to Liz's movements, but her head was back, unable to keep the pleasure from overwhelming her. She needed it, needed it more than anything.

She let out a howl as her second orgasm, so much more powerful than the first, ripped through her. Nothing else mattered any more. She was too far into it, deeply intwined. Nothing but the pleasure that she was feeling existed, not the office around them or the wife that Karen had left at home.

When she came back to the world, Liz was panting on top of her, the girl's head cradled into the nook of Karen's shoulder.

"How was it?"

Liz looked up at her at the question, her face drunken with pleasure.

"You know how it was." She pulled away, the toy slipping out of her, and they sat beside each other, both panting from the pleasure and the exertion of their lovemaking.

"Did you still want that drink?"

Liz considered it for a moment. "Sure."

Karen pushed herself up and started to undo the straps on her toy, letting it drop to the floor and standing fully nude in her office. The drops of sweat across her skin were starting to cool, hardening her nipples. She forced herself to push the thought away.

She helped Liz up, untying her arms with mechanical efficiency. Then she walked over to the drink cabinet, stopping along the way to pick up the shirt she'd left on the floor and fitting her arms through it without bothering with the buttons. Just enough warmth for her, to keep the cold at bay for a few minutes more.

"You should try the '87 Cognac."

A man's voice came from the door to her office, sending a shot of fear through her like lightning.

"Connor." She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" The words came out as a threat, and then as if he hadn't said it his voice lightened. "I'm suggesting a vintage cognac. Though I'm not sure if your friend here would appreciate it the way that you or I would. She looks more like a champagne type. Maybe that would be better for everyone involved."

"Cut the act, Connor. You know what I'm talking about."

"You're right, I guess we do. After all, Diane loves Cognac. But this one…"

None of them missed the implication, even as Liz scrambled to get her clothing without giving too much of a show. Karen was too far gone at this point. She faced away from him, her shapely ass on display.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"Maybe I am, or maybe you just aren't equipped to experience my more… enduring charms."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Who's Diane?" Liz's voice was small and cut into the middle of their conversation like a hot knife through butter.

"You like girls, hon? That's sweet. But I don't need you here for this conversation." Connor's voice held the same condescension that Karen had heard him use with so many women. It was almost a surprise that he managed to constantly have a new one on his arm.

Karen knew that he didn't pay them. Yet some of the hottest girls that she'd ever seen, girls that even with all her money Karen knew she couldn't have gotten in a million years, seemed to flock to him. Was it the celebrity? Or somethign else?

Karen piped up again, not turning to face either of them. "You can't tell Diane about this, Connor."

"And why not?"

Karen turned, pulling her shirt around her to hide her breasts. "Because you don't want RadCorp to deal with the scandal, and you know there will be a scandal. Lesbian VP caught fucking around on her wife? Imagine the papers."

Connor smiled. "You'd have to leave, that's for sure. That's a profit split I don't have to deal with any more."

Karen's face lost just a bit of the confidence it had held. "You wouldn't."

"I would. But I'll tell you what. I won't, but we're going to have a little friendly bet."

Karen's teeth gritted together painfully. "What's that?"

"I bet you that I can make you beg."

"Beg you not to tell my wife? Fine." Her voice took on a sarcastically pathetic tone. "'Please don't tell Diane, Massa.' You happy?"

"Not that. I bet you that you'll beg me to fuck you."

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