Breaking Out

Also by Lydia Michaels

The Surrender Trilogy

Falling In

Breaking Out

The Surrender Trilogy

{Book 2}

Lydia Michaels

I
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IX
B
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INTERMIX BOOKS

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

BREAKING OUT

An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

PUBLISHING HISTORY

InterMix eBook edition / November 2013

Copyright © 2013 by Lydia Michaels.

Excerpt from
Coming Home
copyright © 2014 by Lydia Michaels.

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62611-5

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For Duffy.

You told me to get on an elevator and I took my first real step to the top.

Thank you.

And to Leis for opening a door.

A million thank-yous are not enough.

Part V

Evelyn

Chapter 1

The Job

Evelyn smoothed her clammy palms down the front of her pencil skirt. The narrow belt at her waist winked under the artificial, amber lighting of Patras's lobby. Reflections danced across the toes of her patent leather Mary Janes as her feet clicked over the polished marble floor, suddenly muffled when she crossed the thresholds and the four-inch heels landed silently on the red runner. Dugan waited just past the gold tassels.

Her hands tightened the lapels of the nipped jacket she wore over her pearl-buttoned blouse as the brisk March air cut through her clothing. Dugan nodded at her and opened the door to the limo.

Silk slid over leather as she slipped inside the warmth of the car. The door shut with a gentle snick and she adjusted the nude lace at the top of her stockings. Nerves twisted her stomach into a spring that coiled and released adrenaline, heating her blood.

Dugan glided into the driver's seat. “Where to, Ms. Keats?”

Pulling in a slow breath, she carefully exhaled, forcing away any trepidation. Her lips were done in a deep crimson shade one of the girls at the salon had suggested after she had them style her hair in a sophisticated French twist that morning. She was very aware that she looked nothing like her normal self.

“Patras Industries,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

Dugan's untamed brows lifted to the brim of his hat. She had never been inside Lucian's office. It was a part of his world she didn't like to trespass on, but after their conversation this week, she knew it was time to cross into that part of his domain. After all, he had brought so many of her fantasies to life that it was time she returned the favor.

Dugan maneuvered the limo carefully away from the curb and eased into traffic with practiced skill. The pearls at her neck hung low in her cleavage. Her fingers twirled over the opalescent, heavy beads. Her mind toyed with images, predictions of Lucian's expression as she unveiled her surprise.

Her legs crossed and uncrossed as the limo navigated through the busy streets of Folsom. A jolt of nerves had her questioning her motives. What if Lucian was busy and became upset when she interrupted his day?

She pushed the thought away. This was one of
his
fantasies. He'd taught her to be adventurous. As much as she worried he would be upset with her brazenness, she couldn't truly imagine her handsome exhibitionist being too put out.

The corner of her mouth pulled into a secret smile. Breath filled her lungs as excitement spun wildly in her belly.

The limo pulled up in front of Patras Industries. The glass façade reflected a distorted version of the car back at her. “Would you like me to phone Mr. Patras and inform him you're here?”

She tensed. “No. No, thank you, Dugan. I'd like to surprise him.”

“Would you like me to wait?”

Her palms again smoothed her skirt. “That won't be necessary. Lucian will see that I get home safely.”

“Very good, Ms. Keats.”

Dugan exited the car and came to her door. Sweet anticipation had her knees softening. Sliding out of the car, she stood and found her footing in her high heels. She was doing better with the walking in heels thing. Her clothing adjusted with gravity and her eyes momentarily widened as she became suddenly aware of a minor wardrobe shift down below. Heat rushed to her cheeks as the gusset of her panties sagged under the damp weight of her arousal. She was already starving for him. Luckily, no one could see her panties. Yet. Lucian would know soon enough how excited she was.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Dugan.”

He nodded. “Do you know where you're heading?”

“Fifteenth floor, right?”

“Yes.”

Taking a deep breath, she pivoted, and stepped through the revolving door. The lobby was quiet. A man sat on a chair beside the elevator, typing something into a Blackberry. Evelyn's manicured finger pressed the elevator button, and it instantly took on a golden glow.

The man looked up from his phone, his gaze traveling from her heels, up her stocking-clad legs, around her curves barely concealed by the tight skirt, and settled at her breasts. Her lips tightened as she watched the antique metal arrow clock the floors. When the car arrived, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped inside the elevator, away from Sir Staresalot.

Knuckling the button for the fifteenth floor, she stepped back and ran a quick hand over her clothing and hair, making sure everything was in place. The car alighted with a luxurious purr and slowed just as the arrow reached fifteen. Shutting her eyes, she took a calming breath.

Showtime
.

The metal doors parted and Evelyn carefully stepped out onto burgundy carpet. Phones rang and quiet voices carried. A woman in a brown skirt and ivory blouse leaned flirtatiously over the reception desk, a ballpoint pen twirling in her dainty fingers as she whispered to the young man who manned the area.

He cleared his throat and his visitor straightened. She stood straight, stepping aside so that Evelyn could be seen. “May I help you?”

Evelyn smiled. “Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Patras.”

The man stilled, glanced at his computer and frowned. “Did you have an appointment?”

“No.”

His mouth opened and snapped shut. “Mr. Patras only sees people with appointments. If you'd like to leave a name—”

“Could you please just let him know Ms. Evelyn Keats is here?”

The man's eyes bulged. “Ms. Keats?”

She smiled, seeing recognition in his eyes. “You must be Seth. It's a pleasure to put a face to the name.”

He seemed suddenly self-conscious. “The pleasure's mine. Let me inform Mr. Patras you're here.” He pressed a button on the receiver at his desk. “Mr. Patras?”

“Yes, Seth?” Lucian sounded harried.

No backing out now.

“There is a lovely Ms. Evelyn Keats here to see you.”

There was a momentary pause, and then his voice sounded, tinged with curiosity. “Is there? Please, send her in.”

Seth smiled and pressed a button. “You may go in.”

“Thank you.”

She carefully stepped to the door labeled President and turned the brushed nickel knob. Lucian was coming around his desk to greet her. “Evelyn, is everything all right?”

She smiled and quietly shut the door. “Everything's fine, Mr. Patras.” He raised a brow at the use of his formal title. “I came for my interview.”

Pausing, then extending his arm, he gracefully invited her into the lion's den. His face split with a slow grin and he nodded. “Ah, the interview. I'd forgotten. Please, have a seat.”

He returned to the executive chair behind his desk, this one just as messy as his desk at the condo. The lavishness of the office compensated for its sloppy surface. She slid into the butter-soft leather chair facing him and crossed her legs. His gaze followed the action and she hid a smirk.

Folding her hands over her lap, she waited for direction. He waited as well, the pregnant silence tightening her muscles as each second ticked by.

He cleared his throat. “Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself,” he suggested. Easing back into his chair, his steepled fingers hid his mouth. Her own lips twitched with a sense of playfulness, but she shut her eyes and drew in a slow breath. Fantasy was about fulfilling a psychological need with physical illusions. In other words, she needed to be convincing in order to do this right.

She licked her lips, again drawing his attention to the subtle movement. “Well, I'm told that I have an aptitude for taking direction. I'm a fast learner, I like to please, and I do well with praise.”

“And if there is need for correction?”

His eyes darkened and she drew in a slow, heated breath. “I do well with that too.”

It was nearing four o'clock, and his throat showed shadows of a day's growth as his Adam's apple bobbed slowly. “I'm quite particular with my expectations, Ms. Keats. I do not tolerate anything less than perfect.”

Her mouth went dry. “I understand.”

He leaned forward and gathered some papers on his desk, stacking them haphazardly and tossing them into a tray to the right. “Let's take a look at your briefs.”

“Pardon?”

“Come here, please.”

Her lips parted as she rose to her feet. Slowly, she stepped around the edge of his desk. Heavy brass wheels rolled slowly as his gaze traveled over her outfit. “You are looking quite professional today, Ms. Keats. I like it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Show me your briefs.”

Her fingers glided to the hem of her skirt. She slowly lifted the fabric, exposing the lace of her stockings, the snaps of her garters, and the pale pink lace triangle of her panties. Lucian's eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. Her gaze slipped to the bulge beneath his Armani belt buckle.

“Very nice.” He made no move to touch her. “Remove the garters.”

Carefully, she bent and undid the beribboned snaps holding her stockings in place. They hung like the seductive branches of a weeping willow. Once the last was undone, she stood.

“Did you bring duplicates?”

Her brow pinched and he nodded toward the apex of her thighs. He was referring to her panties. “No, sir.”

He tsked. “I'm afraid you will have to leave the originals then, Ms. Keats.”

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. “Yes, sir. I apologize for being unprepared.”

“I believe in correcting employees immediately after an infraction. Please hand me your briefs.”

Her fingers fit under the string of her damp panties and slowly lowered them. Rising once again, she held the garment from her pinky and offered them to him. He caught the shred of silk and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

“These are wet.” He crumpled the fabric and slowly stuffed it in his pocket.

“I'm sorry, sir. I was excited for the interview.”

“Come here, please.”

There wasn't much room between him and his desk. She took a small step forward. The weight of his palms circling her hips caused her to sigh with pent-up relief. Since morning, she'd been starved for his touch. He turned her. “Palms on the edge of the desk, Ms. Keats. I'm going to look over your proposal.”

Her hands pressed into the fine wood of his desk as his palm caressed the rounded cheek of her ass. Chills raced up her spine, curling her toes in her Mary Janes and causing her heart to gallop in her chest. She arched and his palm lifted, coming down quick and sharp on her rear. A delicious heat bloomed at the surface and seeped deep beneath her skin.

A sharp gasp of excitement slipped past her lips as she jumped and his fingers gently scraped over the sensitized skin. “This is an office, Ms. Keats. Discretion is important. I'm going to have to ask that you keep your voice down.”

Sucking her lips between her teeth, she bit down. His palm slapped upon her flesh again. She hummed quietly, drawing her shoulders back. Her neck rolled, her head tipping back.

“You take direction very well, Ms. Keats.”

“I aim to please, sir.”

His palm came down a third time. Her flesh was alive and needy. The blunt tip of his finger followed the line of lace around her thigh and traced the seam down the back of her leg to the heel of her shoe. He wrapped his fingers around the heel and lifted her foot off the ground.

Her weight shifted as he bent her leg back. “These are new. I like them.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Spread your legs.” He released her and she widened her stance. His palm pressed like a brand into her lower back, easing her slightly forward. Her spine stiffened as his fingers bit into the rosy cheeks of her ass, spreading her wide. His tongue licked up her crease, over her waxed folds. “Fuck, you're sexy.”

She moaned. He released his hold on her ass and bit her sensitized flesh. Her heart raced and arousal flooded her sex. Her lungs sucked in a breath as his finger breached her folds and entered her. He quickly withdrew the digit and replaced it with two.

She was embarrassingly wet. The sound of his fingers fucking her could be heard all around the room. His other hand reached around her hip, bunching up the front of her skirt gathered there. The first touch of his fingers to her clit had her jerking her body forward.

He was suddenly on his feet, his mouth biting through her blouse, into her shoulder. “Don't move, Ms. Keats.”

She loved the way his body managed to hold her in place as he tortured her so sweetly. The press of his arousal through his suit pants, and the sensation of heat added to the thrill of his thrusting fingers.

“You see,” he said in gravelly voice as he blanketed her from behind. “I seem to have made a mistake with my schedule. I have a meeting in about two minutes with a man from accounting. I'd hate to cut your interview short. I've yet to test your oral skills.”

She was breathless as he plucked at her clit. Her knees trembled. “I'm told my oral skills are quite notable, sir.”

“I'll be the judge of that.” His hands suddenly disappeared. The echo of his zipper was followed by the clank of his silver belt buckle coming undone. She was pressed forward until her breasts grazed the surface of his desk through her silk top. “But first I'm going to fuck you. Don't make a sound.”

His cock nudged her opening, and then he filled her in one swift movement. She bit down on her lip, stifling a moan as she went up on her toes. Spine arching, her upper body lifted from the desk.

He grunted and grabbed her breast roughly over the silk of her shirt. His mouth sucked at the tender flesh of her neck. His tongue slid over the pearls as he pulled them between his teeth.

He thrust hard and she couldn't help the moan that escaped. The weight of his palm settled over her lips, fingers curling gently into her cheek. His breath beat at her ear. “Shhh, Seth will hear you.”

His other hand slid down her front and found her clit. He pinched the sensitized bud, and she squeaked, eyes going wide. He thrust faster and tightened his hand over her mouth.