STEP BY STEP (8 page)

His finger reached up between my slit,
rubbing and priming me for what was to come as he separated my stance. The
sound of him ripping a tin foil packet with his teeth filled the quiet air, and
the moment he was wrapped and ready, I felt the head of his cock press at my
entrance. Never in a million, billion years did I think this day would ever
come.

From behind, he shoved himself into me.
I’d yet to actually see it, but I could feel its sheer girth as it pressed
against every nerve and fiber of my being.

“Ah,” I cried out, a mix of pleasure and
pain searing through my voice.

“
Shh
,” he said
as he reached his hand up and covered my open mouth. As he plunged himself deep
into me, I bent over until I was completely hunched over the desk. His right
hand traveled up my spin, one vertebrae at a time until it worked its way to
the nape of my neck, where he grabbed the thin gold chain of my diamond
pendant. I could feel his hands wrap around the delicate chain as he fucked me
from behind, but all I could focus on was the sensation of his member prodding
in and out of me, hungry and animalistic.

I bucked my hips back towards him,
meeting his movements thrust for thrust. By the sounds of his heavy breaths and
panting behind me, I could tell he was enjoying himself. That’s all I wanted. I
wanted him to enjoy himself…to enjoy me. Being a people pleaser apparently
translated into the bedroom for me as well.

“
Ohh
, mmm,
Pres
,” I sighed, breathless, as I felt my insides about to
lose all control.

The pull of the gold chain around my neck
signaled he was
cumming
too, and I forced myself to
let go as he wriggled and writhed inside me. When it was all over, he hunched
over my back, tracing his hands down my sides before pulling himself out of me
and trying to regain his composure.

I pulled my pants up and readjusted my
blouse before turning back to face him. In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t
thought about how awkward it was going to be when it was all over with. A part
of me still saw him as an older brother.

I expected to be met with averted eyes. I
expected to be filled with regret and remorse. I expected him to act like it
hadn’t just happened. But I was wrong about all of it.

As he fastened his belt buckle, his eyes
locked into mine. “Good work, Mirabelle.”

His lips curled into a satisfied smile
and he stopped for a second to take in one final look at me before turning to
exit my office.

PRESTON

What
the fuck did you just do, Preston
Woodfield
? I chided myself as I headed back
towards my office and slammed the door. I knew it was wrong. It was wrong have
stared at her the way I’d been staring. It was wrong to have kissed her. It was
wrong to have ripped her clothes off and fucked her, bent over, on the back of
her desk. What would our parents think if they ever found out
?!
Her mom would have my balls on a platter.

That was exactly how things started out
with Sapphire. First it was mental. Then it was physical. Then it got out of
control, fast. She was smart as a whip, headstrong, and fierce. And her velvety
voice, luminous skin, full lips and even fuller ass
was
Kryptonite to me. I couldn’t resist it. She made me weak. She made me do the
sorts of things that always got me in trouble. And now Mirabelle was the same
way. The only difference was Sapphire knew damn well what she was doing. Mirabelle,
sweet Mirabelle, was young and naïve and full of drive and ambition. She really
just wanted to please me. She wasn’t trying to sleep her way to the top like Sapphire
had done.

Fucking Sapphire. I should’ve known better.
I should’ve known she was only after one thing. Those mischievous eyes of her,
her salacious grin, I should’ve seen through it all, but I was too drunk off
the power of her pussy and the way those tight dresses of hers hugged every
curve to care.

Miri
was different. She was sweet. Kind.
Genuine. Crazy talented. And I knew if I didn’t put a stop to it now, she was
going to get hurt. But I was powerless around her. I, Preston Michael
Woodfield
, was powerless around some twenty-three year old
little college student who didn’t know jack shit about the real world and still
looked at me like that star struck thirteen year old she used to be. She could
draft up one of the best marketing plans I’d ever seen, and she was almost too
brilliant for her own good, but she wasn’t smart enough to stay away from me.

She should’ve pushed me away. She
should’ve slapped me across the face. She should’ve threatened to sue me. But
she didn’t. She gave herself to me, willingly, and all she wanted to do was
please me.

Don’t
fuck this up, Preston.

I couldn’t concentrate the rest of the
afternoon. I kept expecting her to barge into my office like she normally did. Hours
went by and before
long,
five o’clock had rolled
around without so much as a word from Mirabelle. She was either holed up in her
office working her tight ass off or she was avoiding me. My educated guess was
the latter.

I emerged from my office at 5:05pm and
headed towards the lounge for my five o’clock cup of coffee. Walking past, Mirabelle’s
door was shut.

“Is Mirabelle still here?” I asked Ruthie
as she was on her way out the door.

“I believe so,” Ruthie said, confused. “I
haven’t seen her all afternoon now that I think about it.”

I forwent my coffee and spun back around,
heading to her door where I rapped lightly and let myself in.

“Oh, you are still here,” I said as her
head shot
up from the desk. “I hadn’t heard from you, um,
since this morning. Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

I took a couple steps in and shut the
door behind me.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she said, though
I didn’t believe her.

“What is it then?” I asked. I placed my
hands on my hips and leaned in, waiting for her response. The last thing I
wanted to hear was that she regretted what we’d done that morning. That would
spell fifty shades of trouble for me both legally and emotionally.

She opened her gorgeous, full lips and
then stopped.

“What? What is it?” I asked again,
growing impatient.

“It’s just that I’m not that kind of
girl,” she said, her eyes held downwards towards the stack of papers on her
desk. I was waiting for her to spew disgust at me, to yell at me for taking
advantage of her. “I don’t do casual.”

I pursed my lips and tried to think of a
way to remedy that for her. “Okay, then, Mirabelle. Let me take you to dinner
tonight.”

Her eye flew up to meet mine, and for the
first time since I entered her room, they were relit with a bit of a twinkle.
“Really?”

“Yes,” I said. “My treat.”

“Like a…date?” she asked with a
hesitation, as if the word date was taboo.

“If you want to call it that, then sure,”
I said. The instant relief that washed over her face told me I’d made the right
call. “Meet me down in the lobby in a half hour.”

“Okay,” she said, flashing a killer
smile. God, I loved it when she smiled. Her whole face lit up, just like it did
when she was in the zone and giving her killer marketing spiels.

MIRABELLE

I’d never dined in such a fancy
restaurant before. White marble floors, huge, plaster columns, sky-high
ceilings, fresh flowers and candles everywhere. It was nothing short of
romantic and unabashed elegance.

“I feel underdressed,” I wallowed to Preston
as we entered the place.

“Nonsense,” he replied. “You look fine.”

Even if he was just trying to make me
feel better, it was still appreciated. He fit in with his navy suit and Italian
leather shoes and Rolex-donning wrist, but me? I was in tan slacks and someone
else’s blouse.

The maître d seated us in a cozy booth in
the corner, next to a wood burning fireplace. A single candle flickered and lit
up the space between us, casting a warm glow on his face. He shot me a half
smile revealing a set of dimples I’d never seen before. I realized just then
how rarely he ever smiled. Perhaps getting him out of his element, the office,
brought out a different side of him?

I flipped open my menu and did my best to
try to find something that wasn’t so fancy that it was gross. I refused to eat
duck liver or anything I couldn’t pronounce. My eyes danced around the menu,
looking for familiar options, as my hand reached up to my neck. When I got
nervous, I tended to play with my jewelry.

“My necklace,” I said as I clutched my
bare neck. “It’s gone.”

“Your necklace?”

“Yes,” I said, instantly feeling
panicked. “My diamond pendant. I was wearing it this morning when we…”

I remembered him pulling on it while we
were in the throes of ecstasy. He had to have broken the chain. I could only
hope it was lying on the floor in my office, safely waiting for me to retrieve
it the next morning.

“I’ll get you a new one, Mirabelle,” he
said, like it was no big deal.

“The stone,” I said. I lowered my head.
“It was from my grandmother’s wedding ring.”

The server arrived just in time to
distract me and prevent me from ruining a perfectly good date, and I sat back
while Preston ordered us a bottle of some very expensive-sounding red wine.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I
asked as I scooted my chair back. Preston stood as I walked away from the
table. I felt so frumpy sitting there in that fancy restaurant in my used
clothes with most of my makeup having disappeared from my face. I wanted to at
least freshen up for the rest of the dinner.

I stepped into the bathroom, which was
spotless and immaculate with sweeping ceilings, polished, ceramic fittings, and
pale, painted murals along the walls. I sat my purse up next to the sink and
began pulling out tubes of lipstick and mascara and tiny bottles of perfume.
Every little bit counted.

As I got to work on my face, the door
swung open and in sauntered a stunning beauty. She was tall and curvaceous,
standing at about a couple inches taller than me. Our features were nearly
identical, right down to the shade of our fair complexions. The only difference
between us was that I had long hair and she had a
Charlize
Theron-esque
pixie cut. Her eyes honed in on me and
took me in from head to toe before she made her way to the sink next to mine. A
row of ten sinks and she just had to stand next to me.

“That blouse looks awfully familiar,” she
said, drawing out her words with intention as she whipped out a tube of red
lipstick from her purse. She faced the mirror, but her eyes were on me.

“Sorry?” I replied. “Do I know you?”

“You’re like a freaking mini me,” she
huffed, her eyes slightly sad and slightly amused all at the same time.
“Figures.”

“Who are you?” I asked, turning away from
the mirror and towards her.

“Sapphire,” she said with one hand on her
curved hip. “Sapphire Hart.”

A sharp shot of adrenaline coursed
through my chest. “I don’t believe I know you.” I lied.

“Of course you don’t,” she said with a
snicker. “You must be my replacement.”

“Your replacement?”

“Look at you,” she sneered with a slight
hint of jealousy. “You’re the spitting image of me five years ago. You’re even
wearing my old blouse. And Preston brought you to
Giatta’s
.
This used to be our restaurant you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
I said, holding my chest high and my shoulders back. I threw my things back
into my purse and flung it over my shoulder. “Preston’s never mentioned you
before, so…?”