Flashes of Me (8 page)

I cover his remaining shaft with my fingers. He guides me up and down his cock, rocking into my mouth, his balls swinging against my chin. I learn his rhythm, grow more confident with my abilities, find my own power.

Outside his office, Henley’s employees are working, monitoring entryways, resetting passwords, answering calls. They don’t know their boss, the executive they fear and respect, is fucking my mouth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, in front of the cameras, our images reflected on the screens.

Henley drives into me with an intimidating force. Only my fingers prevent him from thrusting too deep, from savaging my throat. He doesn’t allow me the option of retreating, holding me to him. All I can do is surge forward, meeting him halfway.

Henley’s grunts echo in the room. I moan, the sound muffled by his shaft. Skin smacks against skin. He twists my hair around his fingers and pulls. Pinpricks of pain shoot across my scalp, escalating my desire.

My restrained, responsible man has lost his renowned control and I love it. I clutch his ass cheeks, digging my fingernails into his firm flesh, marking him, claiming him. He’s mine, all mine.

“Yes.” Henley moves faster, pistoning his hips back and forth. “Yes.” I increase my suction, my cheeks aching and my lips humming. “Please, kitten.” He’s asking me for something. I don’t know what.

I gaze up at him, seeking his guidance, and my teeth skim along his shaft.

“Yes,” he bellows, lunging forward. Hot jets of cum shoot down my battered throat. I swallow and suck, draining every ounce from him, accepting everything he gives me.

“Kitten.” Henley pumps his hips once, twice more, shudders and collapses, plummeting toward the floor. His knees thud against the carpet and he falls forward, toppling me over, flattening me.

I grit my teeth, swallowing my squeak of surprise, and wrap my arms around his big form, holding him as he shakes. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’m here. I have you.” I rub his suit-covered back with my fingers and cradle his hips between my legs, seeking to comfort my behemoth. My chest fills with pride. I did this. I brought my big man to his knees. Henley shifts his weight over me and I smile against his shoulder.

Chapter Six

M
OMENTS PASS
. H
ENLEY’S
breathing levels and his shoulders lower. A small smile of satisfaction curls his lips, making him appear younger, almost boyish.

“Thank you, kitten.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and stands, pulling me upright with him, the air cool on my bare skin. “We should get dressed. You’ll be late for work.” He tugs his pants upward, fastens them, and then hands me my clothes as I dress, helping me zip my skirt, button my blazer, buckle my belt.

My cute little gloves have gone missing. I don’t search too hard for them, as I can’t wear them. They’re stained yellow with his pre-cum.

Henley cups my chin, raising my gaze to his. His eyes glow. “You’re beautiful.” He tucks a curl behind my ear. “And I
am
a beast. We shouldn’t have rushed this.”

A wave of insecurity rolls over me. “Didn’t I please you?” I clasp my purse tightly.

“You pleased me very much, too much.” His voice lowers. “I want to spend the day with you, but that’s not possible. You belong to Yen during working hours.” He opens the door. “And she’s . . . intense.”

“And you’re not intense?” I ask as I exit. Heads turn toward us, the glass offices now filled with employees. They watch as we walk along the hallway, my hand cradled in one of Henley’s big palms.

“I’m intense also.” He unlocks the door to the reception area.

“I like your intensity.” I sweep through the door. Grant sits at his station, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Good morning, Grant.” I wave at him. “We tested the cameras in the shredding room last night.” Henley groans and presses the button for the elevator.

Grant laughs. “You certainly did, Miss Kat. They’re working.”

“I’m glad.” I stand by Henley, my fingers linked with his. “Security is important.” The elevator doors open.

Henley squeezes my hand and releases me. “Don’t encourage him.” He meets my gaze, holding it until the doors close between us, severing our connection.

He’ll watch me, I know. I glance up at the elevator’s camera and smile. He could be watching me right now, his big body relaxed and sated, his cock soft.

I exit the elevator and wander through the legal department, wishing everyone I see a cheery good morning. Camille’s eyes widen as she sees me. She’s wearing the same cheap black suit she wore yesterday. “You
do
want to get fired, Purple.”

“Today, I’m Yellow,” I announce with a grin, setting my purse on my desk.

My new friend shakes her head, her green hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “The dragon lady wants to see us, Yellow, and she’s not happy.”

My smile wavers. I don’t want to make anyone unhappy. “Remember, I’m taking total responsibility for the stairwell incident,” I remind Camille. “We have to keep our stories straight.”

“Yes. Yes. It’s your turn.” Camille moves closer to me and lowers her volume from ear splitting to mildly deafening. “Speaking of stories, I heard one about you and Mr. Henley, about how you did the nasty in the shredding room.” She nudges me with her bony elbow. “He’s a big guy. I’m surprised you can walk this morning.”

I search Camille’s face for signs of jealousy. Her eyes glitter with humor, her expression almost gleeful. For some insane reason she doesn’t want Henley. My grin widens. “All I’ll confirm is that there are cameras everywhere.”

Camille laughs and heads turn toward us. “That’s good information to know.” She stomps beside me as we walk to Miss Yen’s office. “What about the rumor about men and the size of their shoes?”

“That rumor is also true,” I reply. All of Henley’s parts are as huge as his feet. Camille hoots with laughter and a thin-lipped lady hisses at us. I smother a giggle and knock on Miss Yen’s door.

“Enter,” she barks, her tone curt. I open the door and peer cautiously inside the office. She’s standing with one of her hands on her hip and a phone cradled against her ear, her black suit clinging to her slender body.

“No.” Our boss ignores us. “We’re not giving them that information. Due diligence is done on the company being bought, not on the purchasing company.” She taps her toes on the soft carpet, her five-inch heels sleek and stylish. “They wouldn’t be willing to lower their selling price if they weren’t using the information in some way.” Miss Yen’s gaze flicks to me and she scowls. “I don’t know. Figure it out.” She slams the phone down on her desk.

Miss Yen’s office is similar to Henley’s except that locked filing cabinets line the walls and vertical blinds cover the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s only one screen in the room and it’s set on her desk, facing away from us.

“Purple, what did I tell you about your suits?” Miss Yen’s lips twist.

“You told me not to wear the lavender suit again,” I answer. “This suit is yellow, Miss Yen.”

She glares at me. I stare back at her, maintaining a serene smile and a blank expression. “Lord help us all,” she mutters. “Sit.” She waves at her guest chairs.

As I’m taking responsibility for our adventures in the stairwell and will likely be in the office the longest, I choose the chair farthest from the door. I sit, cross my feet primly at the ankles, and rest my hands on my lap. Camille plunks into the chair beside me, her ass smacking against the seat.

Miss Yen paces behind her desk, moving back and forth, back and forth. “I’ve been informed of the stairwell incident. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Camille looks at me.

“It was all my idea, Miss Yen,” I chirp, continuing to play the dumb blonde. “Taking the stairs is good for the glutes. Men like perky rears.”

A strangled sound comes from Miss Yen. “They also like breasts, which I understand you flashed, Yellow.”

“I didn’t know the cameras were functional.” I smile.

“And why would that make any difference?” Miss Yen shakes her head as though trying to clear it. “Never mind.” She sits down. “I don’t want to know. Both of you are to review the employee handbook and stay out of the stairwells. Green, go back to your desk.” Camille hops out of her seat. I rise also. “Yellow, you stay.” I lower myself once more. Camille gives me a pitying look as she rushes out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

Miss Yen gazes at me. I gaze back. Silence stretches.

She takes a deep breath. “When I was your age, I had huge student loans. I was pretty and a rich man took an interest in me. I thought he was kind. He wasn’t.” Miss Yen touches the long thin scar on her cheek. “By the time I figured that out, he had isolated me, separating me from my friends, from my family. I was trapped.”

Unable to maintain my airhead façade, I stare at her, horrified. “How did you get away from him?”

“A large, some might say monstrous man helped me.” Miss Yen meets my gaze and I know this large man was Henley. My chest warms with pride. “I’ll do anything to protect this man, including drawing up an airtight prenuptial agreement between him and a financially strapped young woman. She won’t get a dime of his money.”

I must be the financially strapped young woman she’s referring to. “Good.” I beam at her. “Henley deserves your protection and he deserves a woman who truly loves him.”

Miss Yen tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “I’m serious, Yellow.”

“So am I,” I reply. Miss Yen doesn’t realize I’m serious because she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know the buyout she’s negotiating between Blaine Technologies and Volkov Industries will make me an extremely wealthy woman. She certainly doesn’t know I never wanted to be the recipient of this wealth.

I want to tell her the truth, to be as honest with her as she is with me, but I can’t. I’m not ready yet. I’m not strong enough to say the words, to deal with her reaction.

“Henley takes his responsibilities very seriously.” I try a different tactic. “Would he jeopardize the people and the company he cares about by aligning with a gold digger?”

“Henley would never jeopardize the people he protects,” Miss Yen reluctantly admits. “If you’re not a gold digger, who are you, Yellow?”

I’m a liar, building relationships and my future on fantasies, not truth. Only Henley knows the truth about me. “I’m someone who wants Henley’s happiness.” I stand, unable to say more. “Is that all, Miss Yen?”

Miss Yen studies me. “For now.”

I hesitate. I should walk away, maintain my image as a brainless bimbo, but Miss Yen is my boss, she cares for Henley, and she’s messing up the negotiations with my family.

“You’re assuming the Volkovs will use the information about Blaine Technologies for material gain.” I meet Miss Yen’s gaze. “My father says entrepreneurs resemble artists more than they resemble accountants. They make many of their decisions based on their emotions, on their gut feelings. The Volkov brothers built their company together, sharing the same office, the same successes, the same failures. They never considered selling until . . .” I can’t say it.

“Until the youngest brother was admitted to the hospital.” My boss frowns. “Are you saying Volkov doesn’t care about money?”

I clench my hands together, struggling to contain my emotions. “My father says once you reach a certain level, money is simply a scorecard.”

“True.” Miss Yen nods. “Your father sounds like a very smart man.” She gazes at me intently. “And you aren’t as dumb as you act, Yellow.”

“Thank you, Miss Yen.” I leave the office with a strained smile on my face, striving to recapture some of my former happiness.

Camille lurks outside Miss Yen’s office, her face lined with worry. “So?” She joins me on my walk to the shredding room, her cocky, defiant strut straining the seams of her black skirt.

“I’m still here.” I shrug. “But we can no longer take the stairs.”

Camille grins. “We’ll have to sacrifice our perky butts.”

“True.” I laugh as I enter the shredding room.

I spend the morning feeding file after file after file into the machine. As my brain numbs and my ears buzz, I glance up at the camera. Is Henley watching me? Has he already reviewed the sexy feed from this morning? I skim my tongue over my lips, the taste of him lingering in my mouth.

I retrieve more boxes. The stack by the windows is even higher than it was yesterday, the files reproducing faster than I can shred them. Camille sits at her desk, tapping furiously on her keyboard, her face positioned close to her screen, her top lip curled.

My task is much less stressful than Camille’s mystery assignment. I return to my post and read the files as I shred them. A thick file contains information on Volkov Industries’ first mobile product. I feed the papers through the machine.

A newspaper clipping drifts to the carpet. I reach down to retrieve it, see the subject, and stop, unable to move, to breathe. My father’s image smiles up at me, the photo taken when his face was still round, his hair thick, and his body muscular.

I sink to the floor and touch my father’s face, my fingers trembling. He was so strong, so vibrant then. I struggle to fill my lungs with air, suffocating from sorrow, knowing what I should do. The photo should be shredded. That’s my job.

I can’t do it. I can’t let go.

The door clicks closed behind me. I don’t look up. My emotions are too close to the surface, threatening to spill over. I can’t cry. I promised my father I wouldn’t. My heart aches with loneliness, the pain almost unbearable.

“Kitten.” Henley kneels behind me, wraps his arms around my chest, and draws me back into his warm body, his lemon-and-cedar scent encircling me.

I lift my chin, blinking back tears, not allowing them to fall. “I miss him,” I whisper. “I usually see him every day and now . . .” My voice breaks.

“I know.” Henley rubs his cheek against mine, our connection soothing me. I’m not alone. He’s here. I lean against him, absorbing his strength.

We sit on the shredding-room floor, the carpet covered with a layer of white dust. Henley, a busy executive, a man with a schedule packed with meetings, doesn’t move, doesn’t talk, doesn’t rush me. He nuzzles his square chin into the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, his chest rising and falling against my spine.