Double Dare (18 page)

Laughing aloud, she eased away. "You'll have to catch me first." With that she darted off down the corridor.

Nathan shook his head. He headed after her, pacing at first then moving into a slow jog. She was fast on her feet. She'd disappeared around a bend and was at the end of a corridor, where large double doors stood open. Following her through them and inside the room, he was confronted with a huge oval table.

"Blimey. It's a boardroom."

She laughed and darted to the opposite side of the table. She put her hands flat on the table, challenging him to follow her.

"We could do it right here, on the table," he suggested, across the distance between them.

She shook her head, laughing.

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face when I'm called in to minute meetings."

He could just picture it. "Fair enough."

As soon as he made it halfway around to her, she was off again, lengthening the distance between them. When she reached the double doors she stopped. She ran her hand down her zipper, wrapping it over her pussy, rubbing hard, staring at him and smiling her naughty smile.

When he caught her up, he reached for her, putting his hand over hers at her groin squeezing it tight.

"I want your cock there."

"So do I, like now. How about right here on the floor?"

He could see her thoughts were racing, deviant little ideas turning over in her mind. What a minx.

Her eyes lit. "I know just the spot to do it." Drawing away, she walked out through the doors, beckoning him to follow. About ten feet back along the corridor, she stopped and flung open a door. "In here, quickly. It's Robertson's office, the head honcho."

The chase had got his blood pumping fast. He didn't care where she wanted to do it, as long as they did it soon. He stepped inside. She'd thrown herself on a large leather sofa along one wall. He dropped down beside her.

Her mouth was eager, her kiss inviting him deeper. Nathan couldn't respond quickly enough. His hands found their way around her waist. Her body molded up against his. He drew back and plucked at her hipsters. She growled in her throat, a sound that made his blood rush faster.

She rose to her knees in front of him and shimmied her top off in one quick movement. Her hips swayed, her breasts bouncing free of the constraint.

He was riveted by the sight.

Wriggling out of her hipsters, she eased back down onto the sofa, straightening her legs out, stretching them suggestively. "Touch me."

He ran his hand down the inside of one thigh, then back up the line of the other. Her pelvis flexed up. Her eyes were filled with naughty humor, and it was so inviting. How could he resist? He reached between her thighs, his hand nestling in to cover the white cotton panties stretched over her pussy. He wanted it bare.

She moved her hips again, nudging up against him. He felt her heat, the fabric scuffing gently against the palm of his hand. He was hard as steel. He looped one finger over the line of her cotton panties, and pulled them off. His gaze swept over her.

"Dynamite," he whispered.

She whimpered, her face flushing.

He smiled. "You're pure dynamite, Suz," he repeated.

She blew him a kiss, giggling with pleasure. He had to love that. She was a total firecracker and yet she seemed so natural.

He looked down at her pussy, his eyes following the line of her body where it curved between her thighs.

She wriggled back on the sofa, whimpering when he brushed his fingers over her abdomen and down into her cleft, delving lower, feeling the soft, damp flesh of her pussy give way.

She swore aloud. Her face was flushed, her hair tousled and hanging over her face. "Get your cock out."

The quiet instruction lit the touch paper. Now, his body demanded. His cock thudded insistently. No turning back. He took a deep breath.

She growled when his erection sprang out from his jeans when he unzipped. He pulled it free, fisting the rigid shaft in front of her.

"Oh yes, I want it," she whispered, glancing from his erection to his face and back. Her hand stroked over its length. "Fuck me with your glorious cock, Nathan, right here."

Her words pumped through him, making him fiercely proud. His cock twitched in response to her eyes on it.

She moved, her body opening towards him.

"Turn around," he whispered.

The smile she gave him at that moment was blatantly naughty. "What?"

"You heard. Turn over and give me a look at that beautiful arse of yours, quickly."

He could see she loved the idea, but she moved slowly, turning to kneel, looking back over her shoulder at him, her lips slightly parted in anticipation. She was teasing him to the max, aware of his urgent state.

His gaze passed down from her face and the tumble of curls that framed it, down the niche of her waist, to her heart shaped bottom. Her knees were pushed into the leather, her thighs angled for balance. Her hips swayed.

Nathan swallowed. "Lean over the back of the sofa," he whispered, his hand sliding on his cock. She had barely leaned over the back of the sofa, and he had donned a condom and knelt down behind her, between her open legs. He lifted her body around the waist to haul her hips back against him. His fingers traced the inside of her thighs, the shaft of his erection hard between her open legs.

It was her turn to be teased. He nudged the swollen head of his cock back and forth between the soft damp folds of her pussy and clit, lifting her body to access her.

She squirmed and gasped, her arms out against the back of the sofa. He increased the pressure and speed, one hand on her hip to steady himself.

"Oh god, Nathan, I'm going to come." She began to shudder.

He continued the assault, stemming his own interest with a thumb and forefinger locked at the base of his cock, watching as her body wriggled and lurched. Her body arched and she moaned when she came.

He pinned her body down with his hands on her shoulders.

He was so close to losing it. He eased inside her, his blood pounding inside hers. Her hips were angled to take him in, her flesh melting onto his cock.

"Your pussy is hot as hell," he whispered, and eased deeper.

Suzanne cried out, her head falling back. He leaned over her back, his arms around her waist, holding her locked into place. He moved his face into the curve of her neck, his mouth sinking against her skin. She felt so good, she smelled so good. Each thrust made him crave more.

"Oh this is so wrong," she said, driving back onto him, "doing it in the boss's office—I'm so bad."

"You surely are." He squeezed her buttocks in his hand, giving her an occasional slap as she met his movements, matched each rhythm.

"That's good," she whispered, struggling for breath.

He molded her flesh in his hands, then spanked her again. "Naughty girl, doing dirty things in the boss's expensive chairs."

Oh yes, she liked that a lot. He could see her hands tightening on the leather upholstery, her knuckles turning white. Then her cunt contracted and began to spasm. She had him so deep. He felt the heat of her climax sucking at him. He tightened his hands on her hips, holding her. "Don't move," he begged. "I'm going to ride you hard while you come. Can you take it?"

She moaned, her body shuddering on the brink. "Hurry," she cried, her voice low and forced.

He put his hands on her hips and began to slam home. She cried out in ecstasy. And again. He was there. He thrust home.

Her head rolled back, her body clutching at him, over and over.

His body jerked and he came in a sudden, dazzling rush his body churning into hers, and for a few moments, he lost contact with everything, except the clutch of her body on his.

"That felt so wrong, but so right," she said, laughing, when she broke free, her body wavering.

He lifted her back, drawing her in against him, kissing the top of her head. She was the craziest woman he'd ever had the pleasure to be around. Somewhere far, far away he heard a voice telling him it was too good, that it couldn't last, but Nathan ignored it.

* * * *

The gym was mercifully cool, Abby noticed. They had their air con on full blast and there weren't many people around. The day had turned steamy, humid. There was a storm brewing. She hadn't wanted to go back to her apartment before seeing Zac, so she'd pulled on a tank top and army trousers and shoved a change of clothes into her bag, together with her gym gear. She could go straight on to Zac's from there.

Tom had given them all membership at the nearest gym as a Christmas bonus the year before. Mostly she went with Caroline, early mornings or lunch times. She'd never been there at night before. Obviously its position in the City catered mainly for the daytime surge. It was usually full of business types and was strangely different at night. Abby was able to wander around the equipment without interruption.

As her body worked with the rhythmic movements of muscle against machine, she breathed in a regular pattern, visualizing her muscles flexing. Her eyes closed. She was more alive than she'd ever felt, her body fired by a regiment of hormones that readied themselves for release, for battle.

She felt the lycra stretch over her ribcage as she flexed. She imagined it was leather, she could almost hear the creak. She was thinking about his legs. She was thinking about his skin. She wanted to feel it against her own. She opened her eyes and the white wall in front of her reminded her of his shirt, that first day in the elevator. She laughed at herself and gave up on the machine.

She took a quick shower then decided not to wear the dress she had brought with her and pulled on her top and army trousers. Her blood coursed ever quicker in her veins when her taxi pulled alongside his Mercedes. He was there. Her heart beat triumphantly.

When he opened the door he stood smiling silently, a towel over his shoulder. He was wearing loose fitting black trousers, his torso was naked. He must have just stepped out of the shower. Wet hair clung to his head and neck. A trickle of water ran over the skin of his chest, slowing as it met the dark shape of his nipple. "What a pity I didn't arrive a bit earlier," she said as she walked in.

He shut the door behind her and rubbed the towel against his head as he looked down at her combat gear. She watched the line of his triceps as he reached up to bend his arm back. He flung the towel over a chair and put his hand on her bare arm. His skin was still cool from the shower, hers was burning hot.

"I'm glad you're here," he said and reached down to touch her mouth lightly with his.

She wanted to respond fiercely, to climb all over him, but he brushed gently on her lips then released her arm with a gentle stroke. "You smell good, like the sea," he said, breathing against her skin. It made her feel weak.

"Would you like a drink?" His gaze roved over her body while he waited for the answer.

Her hand went to his wet hair and as she touched it a few drops of water ran down her arm. The erotic charge of it hung heavy between them, like the humid air of the night. Eventually, she nodded.

He picked up a shirt that looked as if he had dropped it as he went to answer the door and stopped to put it on.

"No," she said, following him, her hand reaching for the bare skin of his chest. "Don't cover up." She drew the material slowly back down his arms, her hands taking the opportunity to touch his shoulders as they passed. She seemed to move in slow motion, brushing the material where her hands wanted to go on his arms.

He took the shirt from her and put it back down.

She stroked her hand across his shoulders and down to trace the line of his lean torso. Then it wandered up to circle his arm around the tattoo.

He captured her wrist with his hand and her gaze with his eyes. "Abby...your drink awaits." He strode off and she followed a few paces behind. She found herself in a small kitchen with a tall, thin, glass door that opened onto a tiny balcony. It had a Mediterranean feel about it. She walked over to the window, it was open, and it overlooked the river.

He moved behind her and she felt the cold slide of glass on her bare arm as he joined her with two glasses of champagne. She gasped then laughed. She was thinking of the day before. How much better it would have been if it had been Zac with Champagne, instead of Tom with Bucksfizz.