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She carried on regardless. “They’ve even set up a snow machine over the ice rink…”
“Rebecca-”
“But it’s broken and…“
“Rebecca… look… I… I don’t think-”
“You should hurry up and eat your sandwich, Mr Martin, before it gets cold.”
“Rebecca…” He really needed her to stop talking.
“Mmm… it’s pulled pork. I had the hog roast sausage. I normally prefer chicken, but when I saw them on the spit, I couldn’t resist. They were just so big and thick; I wasn’t even sure I could get it in my mouth-”
He took her mouth, kissing her hard and hungrily, drinking in her lushness.
It was madness. Utter madness. But Richard couldn’t take it. He had to have her again. Pulling her into his lap, his hands slid down the lines of her narrow waist to cup and squeeze her butt through her skirt, crushing her to him, making her moan and arch. Fuck, she tasted even better than he remembered. There was no trace of cherries now. Only the lushness of her soft pink lips, and she was all the sweeter for it.
Rebecca didn’t waste a moment. Burying her hands in his hair, she sucked his tongue like a woman possessed and moaned a low purr that vibrated through him and made his trapped cock throb against its confines.
Yet it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. He wanted more. He wanted her, wanted to rip her shirt open and taste those plump tits. Wanted to bury his face between her legs and eat her hot, wet cunt. Wanted to bend her over his desk, go balls deep in that tempting little pussy and fuck her like the hot little bitch she was.
She moaned a pitiful protest when he left her mouth, but it quickly turned to small kittenish gasps as he nipped a fiery trail down the long slope of her neck. Then she was like putty in his hands. Her hands dropped down to push his jacket halfway down his arms, before working on his shirt buttons, fumbling a bit as he sucked the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder met.
“Oh… Mr Martin!” Rebecca moaned, her head rolling back, exposing more skin for him to kiss. He greedily obliged, dragging the flat of his tongue along the dips and hollows of her throat. Meanwhile, his hands ground her on the ridge of his cock, sliding under the hem of her skirt and up to the warmth beneath. Up along the smooth, silky-soft skin of her inner thigh. Fingers stretching, brushing over taught tendons and reaching for the heat of her lush wet-
A door slammed shut somewhere down the hall, and Richard’s heart leaped into his throat. He froze, a moment of clarity rushing over him in an icy cascade.
Shit!
“Stop. Stop- shh!” Seizing Rebecca’s arms, he pushed her away, quite literally holding her at an arm’s length as he threw a sideways look towards the door.
It was still shut, but the window would have given anyone passing by a front-row seat of their own dirty little peep show.
He watched it, not daring to blink.
Ten seconds.
Thirty seconds.
One minute and still nothing.
He let out a breath. That was close. He didn’t want to think what might have happened if someone had seen them. Even now, with their flushed faces and dishevelled condition, it wouldn’t have taken Doctor-bleeding-Spock to work out what had been going on.
“Mr Martin?”
Rebecca’s voice was so quiet and unsure, it was almost a stranger’s voice. He twisted back to face her, and the look in her eyes raked his soul. She couldn’t have looked more hurt if he had slapped her.
“Rebecca…” The words caught in his throat. He’d seriously fucked up. Again. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
Richard felt like the lowest piece of shit that had ever walked the earth. “You know why. I’m married, and I love my wife.”
“She doesn’t have to know.”
“That’s not the point. Alice deserves better than that, and so do you.” Unable to look her in the eyes, he shrugged his jacket back into place before fixing his buttons. “I don’t want to use you like that, Rebecca.”
“I don’t care. You can use me however you want. I-”
