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His eyes keep searching my face, looking for something. I don’t know what, but the moment they drop to my lips, the fire inside me roars to life. One moment, I’m sitting in my seat, the next I’m straddling Theo’s lap, my fists buried in his crisp white shirt, his lips fighting with mine. His tongue and mine battle for dominance, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip until, with a growl, he cups my ass and pulls me closer. Theo reaches between us and gently removes my fake glasses, setting them on the seat beside him without ever breaking the connection between us.
I gasp as his thickness presses against my heated core, a sensation I haven’t felt in years. He takes advantage of my gasp to delve in, devouring my lips like a man starved.
Like an itch I could ignore until that first delicious scratch, the pressure of his hard cock against me is irresistible. I grind my hips, chasing the sensation, desperate for more.
“Yes. Use me.” Theo growls against my lips as I chase the orgasm twisting up inside of me. My fingers pull at his bowtie and the button beneath it. It’s been so long, so fucking long. I’m desperate, the breathy moans escaping me the only sound I make.
Theo’s hands squeeze my ass, pulling me against him. Between the rocking of the limo and the rocking of my hips, it doesn’t take much more to push me right to the edge. Theo’s hands slide down my thighs, his fingertips slipping under the edge of my dress. “I want to touch you. I want to feel you come on my fingers. I don’t care about anything else. I just need you right now.” Theo’s words penetrate the haze of lust in my mind, his hands sliding inside the edge of my dress, freezing me mid-moan.
Reality crashes in around me, the tight fabric of my dress stopping my thighs from spreading farther apart and the layers of my Spanx a barrier to the friction I truly want. I throw myself off his lap, desperate and on the verge of orgasm, the flush of arousal turning to the burning of embarrassment the second the cooler air of the A/C hits my cheeks.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I mutter to myself, burying my face in my hands, embarrassed tears leaking between my fingers. I did not just grind on my boss in the backseat of a limo. With Spanx on.
“What’s wrong? Elinor?”
I don’t know which is worse—the concern in his quiet words or the hand that’s gently rubbing my back. Rubbing it the same way I rub Emma’s when she’s upset. Because I’m a mom.
I’m a woman who has to wear control-top shapewear under the dress her date, her boss, paid for. Who borrowed makeup from her best friend just to look somewhat acceptable at an event someone like Mr. Sutton attends so often he owns the very expensive bespoke tux he’s wearing. The tux that had my mouth watering every time I glanced at it all night. This isn’t a Cinderella evening—this is a joke.
Taking a deep breath to stop my tears, I straighten up. Too mortified to face him, I angle my body to look out the window instead as I try to fix my twisted dress. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.” I can’t help looking back over my shoulder at my lame excuse. Sutton can’t school his features quickly enough to hide the momentary hurt that flashes across his face before it transforms into the hard expression I see every morning. “I need to go home.”
Thankfully, we’re almost back to the Mailbox headquarters. The few minutes it takes us to arrive are thick with unsaid words. I can’t speak, the lump in my throat my excuse. Mr. Sutton silently hands me back the glasses, but I don’t put them on, just slip them inside the clutch I rescued from the floor of the limo. Just as silently, I hand him back his jacket, even though all I want is to bury my nose in it and breathe in the vanilla and whiskey of his cologne. I forgot how good a man could smell—Jake always smelled slightly sweaty.
Sutton doesn’t say a word until we pull into the parking lot. He has the door open and is halfway out before turning back to announce, “I have work to do. The limo will take you home.”
“My car is right—”
He cuts me off with a dark look. “You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving home. The limo will take you.” Without waiting for me to respond, he steps out and closes the door in my face, walking inside without a backward glance.
My mind whirling, I fish the flask Lauren gave me out of my clutch and take a long sip. God I’m a mess. He’s right, I shouldn’t be driving right now—I’m not drunk, only pleasantly buzzed—but if I was in my right mind I would never consider it. This is all Jake’s fault.
“Ma’am? Where am I taking you?” The driver’s voice echoes through the silent interior. I rattle off my address and lean back in the seat. Not caring about the hangover I know I’m going to regret in the morning, I spend the ride home polishing off the flask of whiskey. I’m determined not to think about what just happened, even though I can still smell our arousal in the air and my thighs are rubbing together, desperate to finish what we started. The more I drink, the more needy I become. By the time the driver pulls up at my front door, I’m almost crying from my need to find release.
I scramble to let myself in, grateful that Emma is spending the night at Bella's house. I couldn’t face her right now. I flip on the shower then strip out of my dress, peeling everything off me with a sigh of relief as I wait for the water to warm up. The humid air in the bathroom settles on my skin as I pull bobby pin after bobby pin out of my hair. When did that piece at the back escape? I bet it offended the mighty Mr. Sutton all night, one more bit of evidence that I’m not cut out for evenings like tonight. I’m just a middle-aged mom who needs to remember to stay in her lane.
But I can still feel the ghost of Theo’s hands on my body, the way his fingers trailed down my back, lighting up my skin with each touch. I step into the shower remembering the way his hands buried themselves in my hair, angling my face just right as he kissed me, tipping my head back as he trailed his lips along my jaw. The heat from the shower burns where his scruff was rough against my skin and I savor the pain, treasuring the evidence that for a moment in time someone wanted me.
I try to ignore the ache between my legs as I go through my usual shower routine. Eyes closed, I definitely am not imagining Theo’s strong fingers rubbing the shampoo into my scalp in place of my own. The water droplets running down my neck aren’t his lips trailing kisses behind my ear and across my collarbone. The loofah brushing across my nipples isn’t his soft touch, and when my hand cups my breast, rolling the hard peak between my thumb and forefinger, there’s no way I’m picturing his hand instead. Especially when I find myself reaching down between my legs, the throbbing need only made worse by the warm water. The quiet moans I can’t contain are barely audible over the water pounding against my body.
Abandoning the loofah, my fingers go to work, circling and rubbing my clit. I haven’t done this in so long, I can’t even find a rhythm that gets me anywhere as close as I was in the limo. Tears of frustration threaten as I slow down, letting the hot water of the shower pool in my palm before trying again. The heat of the water helps but isn’t enough.
I consider climbing out and getting the vibrator that Lauren gave me, but the thought of having to clean up whatever wet trail I create after I’m done is enough to stop me. Slapping the shower wall in frustration, I open my eyes to find the loofah and finish showering.
I can ignore the ache. I’ve been doing it for years—what’s one more night?
“Would it be completely unprofessional to leave my sunglasses on all day?” Even my voice sounds hungover as Lauren and I walk through the door at Mailbox.
“Yes. But you can drink as much coffee as you want and we’ll go get something greasy for lunch, okay?” Lauren waves as she heads to the elevator. Since my car was left here last night, we carpooled to work and I’m running late, courtesy of a frantic search for my phone this morning. Lauren and I tore the place apart looking for it to no avail. I have a horrible suspicion it’s still in the coat pocket of one Theodore Sutton. If I could afford to abandon it there I would. But right now, I’m too queasy to figure out how to retrieve it.
Dropping my purse on my desk, I rush around the lobby, checking the lights are on, magazines set out correctly, and that Julian has everything he needs for the day.
“Morning, Sophie.” He salutes me with his usual coffee, steam drifting up from the plain black mug. “Fresh pot upstairs.” Julian presses the elevator call button for me. Each floor has its own break area except mine. There is a coffee bar in the corner but it’s for clients only, not staff. Besides, the best coffee is on the fourth floor—their office manager was the manager of a local coffee shop for years before she was hired here.
“Thank God, I need it desperately. Is Tina here yet?”
“I haven’t seen her.” Julian nods. “I’ll keep an eye out while you run upstairs.”
“Thanks!” I step into the elevator.
