Fair Game (6 page)

“It’s decent.” More than decent. It was phenomenal for something so basic.

She traced her pussy lips, then slid along her cleft. The thin scrap of material didn’t hinder the sensation a bit.

The best though, was sitting opposite him, her legs spread, her skirt hiked up, and his glances flickering to her every few moments. Hovering. Then back to the road. The color of his skin deepened, a dark flush, and something that smelled potently male drifted in the confines of the car.

“Put it inside your panties,” he directed.

“No.” The vibration was oh-so-hot, but he couldn’t see her pussy. Just as he seemed to enjoy a little tease, so did she.

She let the toy delve deeper, hit her clit. Sensation shivered through her, and she moaned, leaning her head back against the side window, holding the vibrator with both hands.

“Ooh, that’s good,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Keeping it still, she rocked against the stem, her bottom undulating on the seat. “Oh yeah.”

“Take off your panties.”

She cracked one eye open. “You’re interrupting my flow here.” Then she cranked the speed and rode the thing.

So damn good. She was slippery and hot. She wanted to tell him to pull over and then drag him into the bushes. She needed his cock in her mouth, her pussy, in her, all over her.

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know she mesmerized him. “Oh yeah, oh please,” she chanted and rocked, tension rising up through her chest and down her arms, her legs tensing. Concentrating solely on her clitoris, she molded the hard plastic to her little button and held on.

“Oh God, oh God.” Her body shivered and shimmied, trembled, jerked. She moaned and cried out, aware of him watching, wanting, until the moment when nothing else existed but her clit and the toy. Something exploded deep inside and shot out. For an instant she couldn’t hear a thing, didn’t know where she was, she was simply a starburst of sensation.

She came to herself with the hot sun beating down through the windshield, and his even hotter gaze on her.

“Sweet God,” he whispered, then gave her his profile once more as he negotiated a steeper curve.

Flipping the vibrator off, she let it fall from her fingers to the floor of the car. She’d come harder than she could remember in a long time.

“Gee, that was good,” she quipped. Then a dirty, naughty, outrageous thought came to her as to how she’d pay him back for getting her to diddle herself right here in his car. “And you didn’t get anything,” she teased.

Kyle rubbed his cock. “I can get off now, if you’d like.”

Josie laughed. “Too messy, and you’ll get us killed on this road.”

They’d neared the summit, and Josie hadn’t noticed that he’d already almost gotten them killed. Kyle’s cock was as hard as a spike. She’d ridden the vibrator and all he could think about was pulling over, throwing the toy out the window, and driving hard inside her. When she came, she’d moaned and writhed and gave voice to her pleasure, the sound so sensual he’d felt it like a touch.

Fuck. That was hot.

And he hadn’t even seen her pussy yet.

“You’re wet.”

She glanced down at her panties, then quickly back up at him, and watched his eyes as she slowly traced her fingers over the damp silk.

“You’re gonna kill me doing that.” He didn’t know how he managed to stay on the road.

When she slipped her hand inside the elastic, her fingers moving, twisting, testing, he felt himself going mad.

Then quick as a blink, she leaned forward and ran her wet finger across his bottom lip.

He almost lost it.

“Taste me,” she whispered, slipping a finger in his mouth.

Holy hell. She was ambrosia. Sweet, hot, all woman. Just like she smelled. Then she licked the rim of his ear.

“You need to get back in your seat now.” His voice broke between the words, and for a moment he couldn’t even breathe, he wanted her so badly.

“Spoilsport,” she muttered, but sank into her seat. “This was your idea, you know.”

He laughed, still feeling light-headed. “I know. And it was one of my better ones.” He chanced a glance her way. “I’ve never seen anything better.”

Her eyes glittered. “And you can’t touch it.”

“Not today.”

She smiled low and lazy, leaning back against the door once more, her skirt now pulled over her knees. Yet in that position, her legs were still spread. He could still smell her. She could still make him insane.

“Maybe never,” she teased.

At least he hoped to hell she was teasing.

Her lips tipped in a sultry smile. “You need a souvenir.”

His souvenir was on his mouth. He could smell her, taste her, dream of her, whack off to her later.

She shifted, wriggled, then finally held up her green satin thong, the crotch damp with her delicious juices. She laid the pretty lingerie across the console between them.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.” She paused dramatically.

“I’m all ears.” She probably wanted him to masturbate with them like a horny teenager.

“I want you to wear them to work tomorrow.”

He barked out a laugh. Couldn’t help himself. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No more than you were kidding about the vibrator.”

She didn’t really expect . . . He glanced at her. She arched a brow perfectly. Oh yeah, she expected it.

“They won’t fit,” he said.

She stretched them out, the little red flower prominent on the front. “It’s a thong. All it has to do is cover”—she pointed at his cock, making it jump—“that.”

“It’ll show if I bend over.” He’d seen countless women’s thongs above the waistline. It seemed to be a fashion statement these days, as common as plumber’s crack.

“So don’t bend over.” She was relentless.

“You’re joking.”

She shook her head. And smiled. “I did what you wanted. Now you do what I want.”

Tit for tat. You couldn’t outsmart a woman, at least not this one. He grabbed her damp panties. He’d be able to smell her on him all day. He wanted her all over him now, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from lifting the satin confection to his nose anymore than he could have cut off his right hand. For one brief moment, he closed his eyes and drank in her scent. Then he concentrated on the road before he lost control.

She was silent for a full ten seconds after. Then she gathered her equilibrium. “And you’re going to meet me at the end of the day so that I can make sure you wore them.”

Hell, yes, he’d meet her afterward. He shoved her panties in his jacket pocket. “You’re going to owe me big time.”

She merely laughed. The husky sound reached up into his chest and stole his breath.

He’d wear them because he’d never passed up a challenge from a beautiful woman. The next time, he’d turn the tables. And she’d better watch out.

 

 

ERNIE was gone. She was manager. Yesterday she’d masturbated in a client’s car.

Life had definitely changed.

It was wild. Josie hadn’t expected Kyle to agree to putting on her underwear. She figured he’d refuse because wearing panties would compromise his masculinity. Except that he’d agreed, and she’d told him they had to meet afterward. God, they had a date. That wasn’t supposed to happen, either

The whole thing was escalating without her even trying. She wasn’t supposed to love masturbating for him as much as she had. Gee, she wasn’t supposed to do it at all. Duh. She’d like to be able to say that it was due to her turmoil over Ernie, that his illness had her all wigged out, doing crazy things.

It didn’t, however, make her spread her legs for a man. It didn’t make her love masturbating for him. She was afraid she’d get hooked on the game, or worse, get hooked on Kyle.

As she headed to the ladies’ room, Andrew Ronson waylaid her before she made it. He was maybe five-foot-eight, but in her high heels, she was slightly taller.

“What do you need, Ronson?” What was he doing here so early? It wasn’t even nine o’clock, and for some reason, she wasn’t prepared to deal with him yet. She’d sidetracked herself with all these thoughts of Kyle.

Three or four years older than her, Ronson wasn’t a bad-looking guy, with fine blond hair and extraordinary, almost turquoise eyes. When he’d started at Castle a couple of years ago, she’d managed a side view of his eyes to see if he wore colored contact lenses. He didn’t.

“So, Connor’s little pet got the job.”

Hell. She knew
that
was coming at some point. Still, she hated having people think she got where she was because of who she was related to. Ronson had been the original lead on last year’s Dominican project. She was to be second, since it was complex enough to require two program managers. In the end, though, Connor had given the lead to her, probably a sink-or-swim test. Ronson had been flaming over having to play second, but he hadn’t done much beyond giving her a bunch of shit about it.

This time, though, he was
pissed
.

Best to nip this crap in the bud. She got right up in his face. “I got the job because I can do it.” Not because her cousin’s husband was CEO or that her father was on the board, but because she was
good
.

He raised one edge of his lip in an unattractive snarl. “Sure you can do it. You just can’t do it better than any of the rest of us.”

“Hell, yes, I can,” she snapped, hands on her hips, then immediately felt like she was engaging in some childish game of no-you-can’t /yes-I-can. “My family has nothing to do with it.”

He smiled, all smarmy.
Gotcha.
She’d fallen into the trap.

“Your family has everything to do with it.”

“I’ve been here longer,” she stated.

“I’ve got more experience,” he challenged.

“A couple of years, big deal.” There’d been major delays on his last two projects. He’d said it was the customer’s fault, changes they’d wanted, contingencies they’d added, but that wasn’t supportable in the end.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to start listing all his faults. She was the manager now; she had to be the adult. Arguing with him in the hallway wasn’t going to cut it.

“Ronson, let’s meet in half an hour.” She’d been busy setting up meetings with all her new employees. This was just pulling in Ronson’s time slot a bit. “Ernie’s office,” she added. She wasn’t ready to call it her own yet. “We can discuss your grievances and go over your projects at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone.”

His weird turquoise eyes were blazing, and he had a helluva lot more to say. But for the moment, he realized he would only come across looking like a jerk if he didn’t agree to the meeting.

“Sure. Whatever,” he said.

Josie sidestepped him with a smile, heading to her original destination, the ladies’ room.

Ronson’s beef made her think of Trinity and that bimbo Inga Rice, who had given her such a hard time at work back in the spring. Same thing; Inga thought she should get the job, but Trinity got it because she was “daddy’s little girl.”

Now Josie was “Connor’s little pet.”

That bastard Ronson. Okay, she wouldn’t get mad, but she didn’t get this job because of her family. Or because Connor had favored her. She got it because she worked hard. Right out of college, she started in program management. She knew her stuff. Connor had given her a chance to prove that. In fact, Faith’s father, Jarvis, hadn’t believed Josie could handle lead on the Dominican job. See, family didn’t think you were special just because you were born into their midst.

She now had a lot more empathy for Trinity’s plight, and a lot more admiration for how she’d solved it, too. Not to mention that Trinity had gotten her man in the end. Jeez, that reminded her. She, Trinity, and Faith had to go shopping for Trinity’s wedding dress soon. The wedding was in April, and eight months seemed early to Josie, but Trinity insisted she was already behind schedule. Then there were the bridesmaid dresses to choose at some point after that. Ugh. Shopping sucked. As did bridesmaid dresses. It was nice to be asked, though. Josie had never been in anyone’s wedding party. Faith didn’t have a wedding, just a trip to city hall. Still, despite the honor, Trinity damn well better pick something that didn’t look Cinderella-ridiculous. Of course, with Trinity’s elegant fashion taste, Josie shouldn’t worry.

Feeling bitchy about shopping helped put Ronson’s comments out of her mind. Not that she had a whole helluva lot of time to dwell on them anyway. She had back-to-back meetings with Ronson and Eastman, then individual conference calls with Jenkins and Walker. They went as expected, with Ronson giving her the most crap about which of her projects she and Ernie had decided to hand over to him. He questioned why this job and why that job, then criticized the work she’d already done. Par for the course; she’d known he was pissed, and she took his crankiness with as much equanimity as possible. Being a manager was not so easy.

Then Human Resources had dumped a stack of résumés on her desk. She read so many, the words all blended together until the applicants began to sound as if they’d all been using the same template off the Web. HR had already weeded out the total losers, but beyond that, no one stood out.

Finally, at three o’clock in the afternoon, Lydia wanted her piece of the pie. Seated in the chair opposite Ernie’s desk, now Josie’s desk, Lydia twirled a thick lock of hair around her finger. “You know, I really feel that I’m being undervalued.”

What?
Josie managed to keep her incredulity to herself. “I can assure you, Lydia, that we all have the utmost appreciation for your effort on our behalf.”

Lydia’s face turned slightly petulant, a pout on her lips. “Then why am I the lowest paid admin in all of FI&T?”

Because she’d been at Castle the least amount of time, only two years, and due to her age, she had the least experience. Josie didn’t know how to articulate that without ruffling Lydia’s feathers. She was used to saying it like it was, but with employees, you had to watch each word to avoid misinterpretation. Fact was, when you were twenty-five, you didn’t want to hear that all things came with age. You wanted it now. You
deserved
it now. But you sure as hell weren’t going to get it now. Josie had heard it all herself and argued just as vociferously. Until the shoe was on the other foot. Now she wasn’t willing to argue Lydia’s salary issue with HR her first day on the job.