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The machine keeps spitting out warm pages. Will throws the door shut and locks it. He tests the knob with his hand, and he must decide it’s too flimsy, because he grabs a chair from underneath the worktable and shoves it underneath the doorknob. I’ve never actually seen a person do that in real life. My heart beats faster.
My copy job is almost done, so I turn back to the machine. “Just give me a second, and—”
He collides with me, hands wrapping firmly around my waist, lips at my neck. Will’s not kissing. I can feel histeeth.Like they’re bared. Like he’s going to bite my actual exposed neck at actual work. I’m instantly light-headed with the idea that he’d lose control like that—light-headed and wet—but we’d both get fired.
I turn and catch his lip in my teeth. “Will. What—”
He growls, and it’s half deeply sexy, half scary. Because it’s halfI want youand halfI’m furious.The energy in the enclosed space is already full of him. Will pulls my hips back against him. He’s hard against my ass. His teeth close on my earlobe, but release before they can dig in.
“Hold onto the copier.”
“Just—” I stack the papers I’m holding and twist toward the worktable. Will takes them out of my hand and drops them to the table. Then his thumb is at the base of my skull, his palm on my nape, and his lips are at my ear.
“Hold on to the fucking copier, sweetheart.”
Warm shock fills my lungs. He’s never called me that here. Not that way. “That’s not—that’s not professional, Mr. Leblanc. We’re at work. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you—”
“What’s bothering me, you little corporate whore, is that you’ve obviously forgotten how to follow instructions, and now you’re making me wait. Bend over and hold on, or find somewhere else to work.”
I bend. Not fast enough for Will. He uses my neck as a handle for the last few inches, yanks my hips back to the position he wants, and drops my hands into place on either side of the copier. It hums against my chest, another print job starting up as mine ends.
Will pushes my skirt up around my waist, and he pushes his left hand between my legs, cupping my pussy. Firmly. Like it’s fruit he’s testing at the store. “Do you think this is impressive, Ms. Anderson? A pair of panties you’ve already soaked is the best you can do?” He leans over me, his hand curling through my hair andpullinguntil my head comes up. “I fucked youlast night.Were you touching this pussy thinking about it? Is that why you’re all wet?”
“What would you do if I did?”
He makes a low, amused sound and licks my pulse point. “It doesn’t matter what you do ordon’tdo. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a good girl or a bad one. I’m going to make you cry either way.”
“Well, I didn’t. I wasn’t even thinking about you this morning.”
Will’s voice drops. “Spread. Your. Goddamn. Legs.”
I do, planting my heels on the floor. Will’s fingertips meet my lower back, and I arch on instinct. This is true corporate whore behavior. Gripping a copy machine for dear life while—
A hard slap lands on my pussy, barely cushioned by the cotton. I bite back a yelp. “You can’t—the office—”
“I just did.” He holds me by the hips, and I have no idea what he’s doing until his lips meet the exposed skin between my rucked-up skirt and my panties. He tastes my skin, his tongue a hot stripe, and then—teeth. Will toys with biting me there, testing, but he settles on the waistband of my panties instead.
Elastic, in his teeth.
A sharp jerk of his head, and it snaps. He sweeps them away like scrap paper. Will’s belt buckleclinks, his zipper pulls, and the thick head of him meets my opening with brisk efficiency, like there’s no time in his schedule for anything else.
His hands lock back on my hips, and he forces them back at the same moment he drives himself in, taking me to the hilt.
My thoughts stutter. No time to get used to him, and it’s the hottest, most delicious pain. He lets me feel it while he finds his rhythm.
Which is…frustrated. Needy. Like he’s fucking me instead of causing a scene somewhere else. That’s—that’s really hot. My muscles clench around him, and he pins me harder against the copier. It frustratesme. It’s not fair that I can feel the tension in the way he touches me, I can taste his mood in the air, but he’s closed himself off again.
“Tell me—” He rolls his hips and reaches up under my shell and blazer and bra to run the edge of his fingernail over one of my nipples. He followsthatwith a pinch. “God. No. I still—I still care. Tell me what’s actually bothering you.”
He pinches my other nipple, harder than the first, and slides his hand between me and the copier. A pinch to my clit. I never imagined that being pinched there would make meopenmy legs, but that’s exactly what happens.
Closing my lips makes the moan a little quieter, at least. I pry them apart again as soon as I can trust myself to speak. Will rubs a tiny circle over my clit. He switches to tapping, light and soft, and it’s the polar opposite of how he’s fucking me—hard, deep strokes.
“Oh.Oh. Okay. Tell me. What’s wrong. Right now.”
“I want—”
You to stay.More than anything, that’s what I wish he’d say. I have no idea when he’ll decide the apartment is safe again. From the way he shut down after that night, I don’t think he’ll hesitate to send us back. He’ll probably carry our things upstairs for us. The thought of him kissing my cheek and leaving like he doesn’t care makes me want to cry. And not in a sexy way.
