Chapter 9 #2
Her mind slipped back to the fitting room. Debra in that charcoal suit, the fabric moulded to her shape, her shoulders pulled back as she remembered her own worth. Billie had wanted to say something then, something real and something genuine, but she’d bitten her tongue and watched on instead.
She’d promised herself this morning that she wouldn’t care, that this was no different from any other time in the fitting room, but Debra Allen wasn’t a woman you forgot…and she certainly wasn’t a woman you didn’t care about.
Billie stood abruptly and pushed away from the desk.
Her office felt almost suffocating this afternoon.
Oh, you know what this is. This wasn’t about feeling suffocated; this was about the undeniable urge to fuck herself while she thought about Debra.
Since last week, she’d replayed those soft moans in her mind, and since last week, she’d avoided doing something about it.
Billie was punishing herself for feeling a shred of anything for Debra Allen.
Her mind betrayed her again, flooding with images of Debra.
Those soft curves as she draped herself over the couch in the fitting room, the way her lips had parted as she’d rode Billie’s face.
God, she wanted to pin Debra down, to command her to spread those thighs and beg for Billie’s fingers deep in her pussy.
But Debra was off-limits. She was a line Billie couldn’t cross without shattering everything.
An ache rose and throbbed between her legs, Billie’s clit pulsing with need, demanding she slip a hand down her pants and rub herself raw until she broke. Her hand inched towards her inner thigh, but she clenched it, her nails digging into her palm until the ache subsided.
No.
She controlled desires, not the other way around. This forbidden hunger was her sin, and she’d starve it out. She’d deny the slick heat building, let the frustration coil tighter, and punish her body for daring to crave what it couldn’t have.
She crossed the room and looked out of the window, one hand braced against the frame. She watched the rain streak down the glass, her vision blurring as people rushed about their business down on the street.
Control. She needed control.
When she turned back to her desk, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Suit, posture, mask. She didn’t look like a woman undone by the memory of Debra, but the ache behind her ribs…and between her thighs, said otherwise.
She pressed 1 on the handset on her desk. “Nina?”
A soft crackle. “Yes, Miss Brown?”
“Come in here for a moment.”
Nina paused, then quickly said, “Right away.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Billie slowly sat back down, almost whimpering at the brief friction between her legs. “Fuck.” She had to relieve the pressure, and then she had to forget Debra Allen had ever existed in her world. “Just…get back to normal. You have Nina. That’s enough.”
Nina entered, tablet in hand, her dark hair tied back neatly. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did.” Billie watched her from across the room. “How’s the order list for next week?”
“R-right, um…” Nina blinked repeatedly, clearly caught off guard by the basic question. “Up to date. I was just about to email the suppliers.”
“Good.” Billie gestured for her to come closer. “Show me.”
Nina rounded the desk and leaned in, scrolling through the screen. This was the dynamic Billie knew. It was the dynamic she’d created.
“Tell me,” Billie said. “Do you ever get the sense that people expect too much of you?”
Nina side-glanced at Billie. “Sometimes.”
“Mm.” Billie pinned her assistant with her stare. “They shouldn’t. Expectations lead to disappointment.”
Nina frowned. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. You worry too much.”
“I just—” Nina stood up straight, fidgeting with the edge of the tablet as her eyes flicked down then back up again.
“You just…what?”
“You seem different.” Nina cleared her throat. “You haven’t wanted me recently…”
That one sentence hung in the air between them.
Billie’s gaze lifted slowly. “Excuse me?”
Nina faltered. “I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Billie’s tone cut clean through the room. She rose from her chair and pressed her hands to the desk. “And I think you’ve forgotten your place.”
Nina’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I just noticed—”
“That’s precisely the problem. You noticed.”
As Nina took a step back, Billie took one closer.
“You don’t ask me about what I want,” Billie said, her voice low. “You do as you’re told.”
Nina swallowed. “Yes, Miss Brown.”
That should have settled it, it usually did, but the echo of her name in Nina’s voice scraped against something raw inside Billie. She wanted to correct it, to reclaim that equilibrium that used to come so easily, but her composure slipped just a fraction…enough for Nina to see it.
“You’re angry,” Nina said. “Not with me, though.”
Billie’s jaw clenched. “Enough.” She brought her hands to her belt buckle and forced it open.
“Come here.” Nina’s probing questions had only amplified the ache between her thighs, the desperate hunger for Debra that she’d been punishing herself over all week.
She needed release, and she needed to reclaim her dominance before it slipped further.
“You think you can read me? Analyse me?” Billie lifted a brow, almost smiling when Nina trembled and flushed.
“Get on your knees and make your mouth useful.”
“Yes, Billie.” Nina sank to the floor. “Whatever you need.”
“In future…” Billie forced her pants and boxer shorts down her legs, exposing her slick pussy. The cool air hit her skin, her clit throbbing as she spread her lips, and Nina shuffled closer on her knees. “The only time you open your mouth is if it’s to please me.”
Nina’s tongue darted out immediately, eagerly lapping at Billie’s pussy. She traced her soaked lips and gathered her arousal before flattening her tongue to drag upwards in long, steady strokes. Billie’s hips jerked at the first contact, a low moan escaping her despite her lingering frustration.
“That’s it.” Billie hurtled towards the edge, her voice rough with the pleasure thrumming in her veins. “Deeper. Use your mouth like you mean it.”
Nina hummed in response, the vibration sending sparks through Billie.
She sucked her swollen clit between her lips, tugging gently before releasing it with a wet pop, then plunged her tongue inside.
Nina’s rhythm was as flawless as always—lap, suck, thrust—her hands prying Billie’s thighs wider, holding her open as she devoured her.
“Harder,” Billie demanded, grinding down against Nina’s face. “God, your tongue feels…fuck, keep going.”
Nina pulled back and smiled. “I’ve missed this.”
Billie shoved Nina’s head back into place, her frustration peaking even as pleasure coiled low in her belly.
The interruption fuelled her anger, but it also intensified the edge of her impending release, her pussy dripping more arousal onto Nina’s chin.
Nina dove back in without another word, her mouth working relentlessly as she circled her clit with rapid flicks.
Then Nina pushed two fingers inside Billie, and her eyes slammed shut.
She rocked harder, chasing the building pressure, her chest heaving with each thrust. It was all so precise and so obedient, the tension unravelling thread by thread, but as her orgasm rushed towards the edge, that image invaded her mind all over again.
Nina’s face morphed into Debra’s, those soft, forbidden lips wrapping around her clit, sucking with a hunger that mirrored Billie’s secret cravings.
Debra’s tongue thrusting inside her, lapping up every drop as if she owned Billie’s body.
“Debra,” Billie gasped, her name tearing free in a broken cry. Her body seized, her walls pulsing wildly as she came hard, soaking Nina’s mouth. She bucked through the waves, riding the fantasy until she stumbled back into her chair, spent and seething with the weight of her slip. “Get out.”
Nina rushed to her feet and smoothed out her skirt. “Billie, I—”
Billie’s eyes flew open. “I said…get out!”
Nina swiftly lifted her tablet from Billie’s desk and skittered across the office floor. She turned back as she clasped her fingers around the door handle and smiled. “See you at four. Mrs Chamberlain and her daughter have an appointment for some alterations.”
Billie dropped her keys onto the counter and let the door swing shut behind her.
She didn’t move, preferring the stillness to press down on her shoulders.
Normally, this space was her sanctuary. It was the place she always knew she could come back to when she needed to breathe.
Only tonight, it felt as though the walls alone had questions she couldn’t answer.
She’d lost her footing entirely. She’d already known it as this week had progressed, but it had been cemented the moment Nina had left her office, her eyes filled with a confusion Billie never allowed. Then came the silence. It wasn’t clean like it usually was. No, it was pulsing with guilt.
Billie pressed both palms to the kitchen counter and bowed her head.
She’d built her life on rules, yet she’d somehow used the one person who still looked at her with unwavering loyalty as a stand-in for someone else entirely.
The shame for doing so came slowly, settling deep in her chest until it burned.
Nina hadn’t deserved that. She never would. She was diligent and eager…and God, she was desperate to please. Billie had spent years teaching herself control and the art of never letting anyone too close. And then, in one brief lapse, she’d undone her own lesson.
All because she couldn’t stop thinking about Debra Allen.
She poured herself a drink and knocked it back in one gulp. The image wouldn’t leave her. Debra standing in the mirror, wearing that suit and holding the power that came with it. The way she’d looked at Billie that afternoon, calm but furious, yet heartbreakingly direct.
I walked in…complicated and messy, and you realised you didn’t want to handle that.
Billie had spent hours trying to decide if Debra had been right. Maybe she had; maybe everything Billie said to women was just another way to stay untouchable. Power in the guise of care. Debra had seen through it, she’d seen her, and Billie hadn’t known what to do with that.
The thought of it now made her throat constrict. “Pathetic.”
Anger was easier than guilt. It always had been. She had no right to be angry for wanting Debra, but it was better than admitting the truth. She was lonely, and no amount of power at the office could change that.
Billie dropped down to the edge of the couch and rubbed a hand over her face. She tried to find the rhythm of her breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth—a ritual that usually steadied her. But every inhale brought back Debra’s scent, and every exhale replayed her voice.
For years, she’d forced herself to believe that detachment was power and that distance was survival. After everything she’d lived through, it was the only way she’d learned to stay standing. But tonight, detachment felt like a punishment.
You’ve always been good at punishing yourself!
She reached for her phone and scrolled to Ella’s number. She could almost hear her best friend’s voice with that calm, knowing, but slightly exasperated tone.
You used someone kind because you can’t stop thinking about the one woman who actually saw right through you.
Billie set her phone down again. Ella would be right, and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Unless someone had a solution for all of this, she didn’t want to hear anything.
She pushed away from the kitchen counter and started to pace.
Nina would be fine; she always was. She’d come in tomorrow, polished and polite, pretending nothing had happened. And Billie would do the same. They were both very good at pretending nothing was wrong.
But Debra was a different story.
Even now, in this place she’d built to keep the world at arm’s length, Billie could still feel her. The brightness she’d carried into the room and the honesty that had stripped Billie bare without laying a hand on her.
For so long, Billie had told herself that being untouched meant being untouchable. But standing there in the dark, rain streaking down the glass, she wasn’t so sure anymore.