Chapter 19 #2
A quiet sound vibrates behind me, low and guttural, rolling through his chest and straight into my spine.
His arm tightens briefly, hand splayed over my stomach, thumb brushing just above the waistband of my panties.
The pressure behind me doesn't ease, and the awareness of it sends heat flooding between my thighs.
"I need to get up," he says, words steady even as his body betrays him. "I have to get ready for work."
"You are up," I blurt out, and shift my ass against his erection.
His entire body turns rigid, heart thumping against my back. He groans, asserting, "Same rules apply as last night. Don't make me regret staying."
Disappointment flares sharp and fast, but I swallow it down, forcing my breathing to stay even. I shift slightly again, just to give him another opportunity to give in, and his breath catches for half a second before smoothing out again. "I mean it. Are you feeling okay this morning?"
I tilt my head just enough that my cheek brushes his jaw. "Yes. You did exactly what you came here to do. Thank you."
His lips graze against my skin. "You feel better?"
I nod. "Yes. Thanks to you. I slept and didn't continue to spiral. It's all because you stayed."
His hand slides once more over my stomach, then retreats. His arm around me loosens, careful, as if he's dismantling something fragile instead of moving away from me. The mattress shifts as he sits up, and the loss of his heat leaves me instantly aware of the space he occupied.
I roll onto my back, taking every inch of him in for a final time.
Morning light spills through the edges of the curtains, catching the sharp lines of his shoulders and the controlled set of his jaw.
His boxers sit low on his hips, outlining everything I'm dying for him to reveal to me.
His gaze flicks to mine, dark and searching, then drops away.
He quietly praises, "You did good, Bluebird. You kept our boundary."
My lips curve. "So did you, Red."
A low sound leaves him as he stands, reaches for his clothes, and dresses with careful precision.
Every movement carries tension, restraint layered over desire, and it only sharpens the ache curling through me.
When he finishes, he steps back to the bed, leans down, and presses a brief kiss to my forehead.
It's gentle, grounding, and intimate in a way that makes my chest tighten. He murmurs, "Have a good day."
I lift my chin and catch his mouth before he can pull away, keeping the kiss soft but intentional. His lips part instinctively, then still, breath stalling against mine.
I offer, "You too. And don't worry. I'll be fine."
Heavy conflict flickers in his gaze before he straightens and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, quiet and final, and I lie there staring at the ceiling long after his footsteps fade.
I glance at the clock and sit up in bed.
Time to get out of bed.
I turn on a playlist of love songs and sing while I go through the motions, getting ready for work, replaying every moment I spent with him in blissful glee. The entire way to the office, I can't get the feeling of his erection against my ass out of my mind.
Work barely registers. I complete tasks in a trance while my thoughts continue to race with sharp, vivid flashes.
I feel all of it. The weight of him wrapped around me, and the steady heat of his erection pressed into my back, only intensifies until it's so real, he could be right behind me.
The control in his voice when he pulled himself away won't fade.
Every time I shift in my chair, the memories drag right through me, leaving me restless with a buzzing beneath my skin.
By midmorning, focus snaps into place with sudden clarity.
It's time.
I rush home before my lunch break, dressing with intention.
I choose blush that whispers instead of screams. The silk hugs my skin in a way that feels both innocent and dangerous.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror and re-tie the side strings on my panties several times.
Once they're perfect, I slip a minidress over me, happy with how composed and confident I appear.
Whatever Red thinks I can't handle, I'm about to show him exactly how wrong he is and why I'm the only woman for him.
Within an hour of leaving the office, I'm standing outside his office building, my pulse steady and resolve locked in. I take the stairs to Red's floor, then stay around the corner until Shirley exits and locks the door.
Yes! I knew she'd need to take a lunch break!
She locked the door. Red must be gone, too!
It's all too perfect. I move farther around the corner until she disappears in the elevator.
My adrenaline spikes. I slip my hand into my bag, close my fingers around the tension wrench I always keep in my purse, and hightail it to the door. I glance around to make sure no one is in the hall, then crouch down and stick the cool metal into the keyhole.
The first click is the kind of vibration you feel in your bones. I tilt my head, listening, adjusting the wrench by instinct rather than thought, letting memory and patience do the work. Another faint shift answers me.
My mouth curves, and I keep my eyes on the door as if it might flinch.
The final give comes with a quiet surrender, the latch easing under my touch.
I still my hands, count a beat, then press the handle down and slip inside, closing and relocking the door behind me with the same care I used to open it.
Shirley's desk is empty, and Red's office door stands ajar. I slip inside, keeping the door as it was, and my eyes dart around the room.
What's the best position to be in when he enters?
I slink down in the chair Red sits in when he's not at his desk and drape my leg over it, then straighten, crossing my legs.
Not the right position.
I study the room again, and my eyes catch the hourglass. I rise, go behind his desk, and flip it. The blue sand falls, mesmerizing me to the point I briefly forget why I'm here. So much time passes that more than half of the sand has settled to the bottom of the globe.
I flip it again, just as Red's voice hits my ears.
"Do you have the rest of the folders for my afternoon appointments?"
My head jerks toward the door. Panic sets in.
"I had to get more ink. I'll bring them as soon as printing resumes," Shirley states.
"Thank you," Red says, closer to the door.
I dive under his oversized desk, my heart beating wildly, breath shallow.
Red's voice nears. "Casey, come in."
A woman's voice follows, shaky and raw. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Jealousy sparks instantly, hot and irrational, curling sharply in my chest.
Red speaks gently, "Have a seat, Casey." His shoes and shins appear in front of me, and his chair moves backward. He drops into it, then slides forward. The desk presses closer, enclosing me. His knees widen, blocking any view except for what's between his thighs.
My nose flares with his scent, teasing my nerves. I stare at his zipper, remembering how his erection felt against my ass this morning.
"He broke up with me. I'm hideous, and I knew I should have never believed you when you told me I wasn't!" Casey shrieks, then sobs.
Envy carves straight to the center of my chest as her words ricochet around his office.
He told her she wasn't hideous.
The phrase repeats, ugly and invasive, settling somewhere it doesn't belong.
My fingers curl against the wood beneath the desk, nails biting into my palms as heat crawls up my throat.
The room shrinks, air thickening while he stays calm, steady, offering her the same quiet reassurance he's given me, and the realization lands hard enough to bruise.
Softness fills his voice, with a certainty he wraps around her pain and isn't for mine alone. "Casey, if someone breaks up with you, it doesn't mean you're hideous. We've gone through this before."
My pulse stutters as something acidic coils low in my stomach, twisting possessive and irrational. I don't want to share the words he uses to make broken women breathe again. I want them branded on me, meant for me, spoken only because he sees me.
Her sobs drag on, wet and desperate, and all I can think is that she's sitting in my place, unraveling in front of him, while I'm hidden beneath his desk, burning with the knowledge that he knows exactly how to make her feel seen, too.
Red is mine.
Dr. Mercer is mine.
Just as he showed me, I take a few breaths to calm my system.
"Is that all the time we have?" Casey frets.
"What do you mean?" Red asks.
"Your hourglass…"
Red swivels slightly in his chair and freezes.
Time to remind him who he belongs to.
I slide my hand up his legs and past his knees, pushing my thumbs into his inner thighs.
His body stiffens for a brief moment and turns back in his seat. He clears his throat.
"Well?" Casey pushes.
"Of course not," he says too loudly, then shifts his chair another inch forward, sealing me in. His hand touches mine, trying to remove it from his thigh.
I slide my other hand and tug at his belt, releasing it from the loop.
His hand flails, and I flick my wrist, grabbing his hand and sliding his fingers into my mouth, sucking hard.
He's not going to win.
"He was the only man for me!" Casey cries out.
I release his belt and button.
His fingers stiffen in my mouth, then relax, then stiffen. I keep my focus on his erection, pressing harder against his zipper. His voice comes out rough. "There's more than one man for you."
Tell her that. But you know you're the only man for me, Dr. Mercer.
I unzip his pants.
His fingers twitch in my mouth.
"There isn't! And you told me I wasn't hideous and set me up for this!" Casey shrieks.
You are hideous, I think, determined to show Red how I'm perfect for him.
I move my hand inside his boxers, freeing his beautiful, thick cock. My mouth waters, taking in the picture-perfect, smooth tip.
He frees his hand from my mouth and grips his armchair.
That's right, Dr. Mercer. You know exactly where I am, and you're hiding me.
I lean forward, keeping my hand on his shaft, and flick my tongue across the tip of his cock.