Brazen Seduction (15 page)

“Tell me, Mr. Horner. I’m curious to know how you plan to

‘oversee’ my work when you have no knowledge of accounting.”

“You need to mind your place, Molly. It’s not for you to judge what I am and am not capable of. In fact,” he stepped closer to her desk, practically leaning over her, “you’d be amazed if you knew all there was to know about me.”

It took sheer nerve on her part to not pull back, to not flinch when he invaded her personal space. Since she had nothing more to say, she simply stared him down.

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It took a few moments, but in the end he smirked and eased back—as any bully might, trying to give the impression she didn’t unnerve him.

She waited until he left her office before she relaxed. Then she reached for the phone.

“Mr. Nicholson’s office.”

“Hi, Janet. Does he have time for me?”

“Sure, Molly. Come on over.”

Molly worked on putting a lid on her temper as she wound her way through the corridors until she came to Norman Nicholson’s office.

His secretary, Janet, had been with him since the beginning, a warm, motherly woman whom practically everyone at Nicholson Manufacturing adored.

“He’s waiting for you. But he does have a meeting scheduled in about fifteen minutes.”

“I don’t think I’m going to need that long.” Norman Nicholson sat behind a desk cluttered with files and paperwork. He began his company twenty years before, he often said, on a wing, a prayer, and a loan from his sister Martha. Martha married well and had one son, Brian. Molly knew that meant she needed to proceed with the utmost caution. She’d already decided that she wouldn’t complain about the little slug. Instead she drew on knowledge gained during two college semesters in psychology. When in doubt, resort to “I” messages.

“Hey there, Molly. What can I do for you?”

“I felt I needed to apologize, Mr. Nicholson. I’m not sure what I’ve done to make you question my ability to do my job, but I’m sorry.”

The man blinked at her and then sat back.

“I have a feeling Brian has insulted you?”
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Morgan Ashbury

“He informed me that he would be ‘overseeing’ my production of the financial statements in order that the family’s interests could be properly protected.”

“Jesus Christ.”

It was the first time Molly ever saw a display of disgust on her boss’s face or heard him swear.

“He asked if he could spend some time with you, perhaps pick up some pointers, maybe even learn a little on how to conduct a proper month end. So I told him he would have to check with you first. God knows it’s the first thing he’s shown an interest in since I hired him.”

“I see. Well, that makes me feel better.”

“Look, I know Brian’s a screw up. He’s never really settled on anything, you know? Breaks Martha’s heart. Here he is, nearing forty, with nothing to show for it. I hired him to make her feel better. You know how much I owe her.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“If you could let him sit in with you, ignore his bullshit, I’d consider it a personal favor. You have to know nothing he can do or say is going to impact my respect for your work or your position here.”

Molly really liked everything about her job until Brian arrived.

Mr. Nicolson took her on pretty much right out of college, and in just these few short years he’d made her a manager. She supposed, although it really rubbed her wrong, the least she could do was try.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Molly. I mean that.”

Molly checked her watch as she left Mr. Nicholson’s office.

Nearly three o’clock. Since she hadn’t taken a lunch break yet, she’d work for another half hour, then call it a day.

She figured she needed the time to shore up her resolve and tuck her resentment away so she could keep her promise to her boss for at least the next few days. She’d do her best to make this the fastest month end in Nicholson Manufacturing history.

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* * * *

He watched her, and she didn’t even know it. She didn’t know he was there, could never even guess. But he knew her, oh yes, and how easy he found it to see her—beautiful, white ass naked, ready for his marks.

She thought herself untouchable. Inviolate. Because she belonged, the slave of another? That hardly mattered, wouldn’t matter when the time came. That time would be soon. Soon he would claim the bitch as his own. And he would teach her who was master and who was slave.

Bacchus couldn’t settle, felt the same restlessness he felt Friday night. He stroked his lips, recalling the wonder of that night.

He’d seen his destiny for the first time then, and he’d nearly convinced himself that the other was
her
. She’d been an adequate substitute. Ginny. He’d learned a few things with Ginny, practiced on her, and it had almost,
almost
, been good enough.

The main thing he learned was that he did need to practice. For when he had
her
, he wanted it all to be just exactly right.

Bacchus got in his car, restless, always restless, and drove through familiar haunts, places he’d visited all his life. And he laughed because these people never really saw him, either.

He drove until the sun set, until the street lights came on. He drove and he watched.

Finally, his patience was rewarded. This had to be a sign, didn’t it? Of course, it did. He pulled ahead, parked his car, and got out but didn’t lock it. He recognized the woman approaching the bus stop.

She was one of the ones who’d never really seen him.

He walked like a man with not a care in the world, and when he neared the bus shelter, he smiled.

The woman checked her watch and frowned.

“Well, hello. Patricia, isn’t it?”

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Morgan Ashbury

Patricia started, then she saw him, recognized him, and smiled.

“Yes, hello. How are you? How’s your family?”

“We’re all well, thanks. Did you miss your bus?”

“I think I did. The next one doesn’t arrive for another forty minutes.”

“What bad luck! Listen, I’m just on my way home. Perhaps you’ll let me give you a ride?”

Wariness came and went on Patricia’s face. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp, he could see her expression clearly. She sighed and ran her hand through her red hair, sweeping it away from her face.

“That would be great. Thanks so much.”

“Come on, my car’s just over here.”

“It was awfully nice of you to stop for me,” Patricia said as she opened the passenger door.

“Oh, no. Believe me. The pleasure is all mine.”
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Molly didn’t bother to call ahead. She had a key and she figured both men would still be working. She’d left earlier than her normal time, too. So before either of them would wonder about her whereabouts, she’d be home.

She drove to her apartment and parked her car. She took a moment to gather her mail. Then she headed to the bus stop located just half a block down the street from her building.

The bus ride gave her time to decompress, to put the frustrations of the day behind her. She shivered when she thought of the way Brian stared at her most of the day. She really did feel as if she needed that shower.

If he continued doing that, she didn’t think she’d be able to work with him, no matter that she’d told Mr. Nicholson that she’d try.

By the time the bus let her off at the stop closest to Richard and Alan’s house, she thought she’d put the worst of the day behind her.

“Molly! I was just going to call you and arrange to pick you up from…what’s wrong?”

She didn’t expect Richard to be there, or Alan, either, whom she saw when he came out of his office.

It never occurred to her to lie. “I just had a bitch of a day is all.”

“Ooh, do you want us to go and pound on someone?” Alan asked.

Molly laughed. He sounded so excited when he said that, which she knew had just been for her benefit, to make her laugh. She couldn’t imagine Alan pounding on anyone. “Not right now, but maybe I’ll keep that in reserve?”

“Absolutely.”

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Morgan Ashbury

“Come on.” Richard took her hand and led her toward the bedroom. “I know a surefire way to get rid of that stress I see on you.”

“And here I thought I’d done a good job of tucking it away.”

“Richard sees
everything
. It would be spooky if it wasn’t so damned appealing,” Alan said.

She expected a bout of hot, wild sex. She got a bathtub filled with foaming lavender and two bath attendants.

“Oh, God, that feels
good
.” Eyes closed, Molly lay back against the edge of the tub. Richard and Alan each held one of her feet. In unison, as if they’d done it a dozen times before, they massaged her feet, applying pressure to the arch of each foot. The combination of the fragrant water and steam and their hands on her made it feel as if every muscle in her body turned to molten honey. She wondered how she could keep her head above water and not slide down into the bottom of the tub.

Hands bathed her, their touch gentle, relaxing, and soon Molly felt as if she rested upon a cloud. Their care and pampering of her totally erased the stress of the day.

“Stand up, baby,” Richard said.

Molly opened her eyes. She hadn’t even noticed Alan leaving the room, but he must have, for he held a big, fluffy towel and her guess proved correct when he wrapped it around her. The soft terry felt toasty warm, obviously just taken from the dryer.

They dried her gently. Then Richard scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

“On your stomach, please.”

Molly felt so relaxed, she more or less flopped onto her tummy instead of turning gracefully.

The sound of the men chuckling didn’t bother her in the least. She heard movements but just floated on that cloud they’d put her on.

Then she smelled the light, floral scent of jasmine.

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The bed dipped, and naked male thighs straddled her. She felt the brush of scrotum against her bottom as an erect cock nestled between her ass cheeks.

“Can you guess what step two and three of our recreational program are?” Richard asked.

“Mmm.”

He worked lotion into her back and her shoulders, compressing, then releasing as he gave her the best massage of her life.

“Tell me what got you so tense.”

Care and attention dissipated the stress, but the thoughts, the righteous indignation remained. Too relaxed to even think of prevarication, Molly sighed. “Stupid toad. Said he was going to oversee my work. Shit disturbing little prick, staring at me like he can see me naked through my clothes. Little fucker. I promised the boss I’d do my best to ignore him, let him sit with me to do the month end.

I don’t know if I can, but I have to try because I gave my word.”

“I take it you’re talking about the nephew?”

“Oh yes, just like that!” Molly didn’t know what Richard did to her back but she hoped he didn’t quit anytime soon.

“Sweetheart? The nephew?”

“Mmm? Oh, yeah.” She opened her eyes, focused. She’d been so relaxed she’d nearly been asleep. Oddly, she felt better now, energized. “I went into Norm’s office. He acted all pissed and everything, but he feels he has to have the prick there on account of owing his sister so much.”

“It’s not good for you to have this kind of stress. And no woman should put up with a man staring at her as if he can see her naked through her clothes. You know that’s not right.”

“I know.” Molly sighed. It
wasn’t
right, but she felt caught between a rock and a hard place.

“He didn’t try anything? Make a pass?” Richard asked.

“Make a pass. That’s kind of an outdated expression, isn’t it?”
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Morgan Ashbury

Alan chuckled and she knew from the sound that he’d stretched out on the bed beside her.

“Minx, I’ll show you outdated.”

Molly felt Richard move, felt him push himself down, bring his knees together to nudge hers apart. Because she wanted it, because she needed it, she parted her legs for him and raised her bottom.

Richard surged into her in one solid thrust.

Here was the rest of what she needed, that feeling of fullness, of cock inside her, moving, thrusting in and out again and again. She needed the steady rhythm of one of her men—yes, they were
her
men—moving inside her. Taking their pleasure, giving it back tenfold in return.

No words were spoken. Words would have intruded on the pure feeling, on the glide and slide, on the push and release. But sounds whispered in the early evening shadows. Sighs and groans that spoke of carnal thrills, of life suspended so that life could be
lived
.

Alan slid closer, his body heat cocooning her, his hands stroking down her side. She reached for him, fingers and thumb closing around him, caressing and pumping. He felt hot and silky, and, covered in latex, she knew it wouldn’t be her mouth he wanted this time. She would take him next, the heat and the power and the mating from both men needed to restore her balance.

“You’re ours.”

Two words, whispered in her ear, destroyed the last of the tension as her climax rolled over and through her. Two words that soothed and steadied, even as they raised a question, a tiny voice of disquiet within her. She might be theirs, that voice, that traitor, whispered. But were they hers?

* * * *

Richard whistled as he prepared dinner Thursday evening.

Molly’s car was parked in the garage across the street, and she’d
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come in after work with no shadows in her eyes. Alan was nearly finished with the client from hell and seemed in a much better, more even mood too.

His stuffed pork with glazed apples was going to be another smash success at the dinner table.

Another good day for the Grant family.

He paused in the midst of stirring the rice. Although he and Alan considered themselves so, he
had
begun to think of Molly as part of their family, too. He might be setting himself up for disappointment.