8. Maisie
8
MAISIE
“I need another lesson,” I say to Mr Blackwood when I finally see him in the corridor a week later. And when I say need, I mean it. I am chronically horny from that one kiss.
Can you die from sexual frustration and longing? Only days ago, I’d have said don’t be ridiculous. I’d have pointed out that even though it feels like all your blood is in your groin, it’s not true. That yeah, it’s difficult to think when you’re distracted, but surely you just need to focus.
I cannot. It’s impossible. And finally, finally, I’ve found Sev, who has been notably absent from the office since our kiss.
I trot to keep up with him.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Matthews,” he says coldly, not breaking his stride.
“Right, but it is,” I insist.
He accelerates. I do too. We’re practically running down the corridor towards the conference room where there will be a meeting between him and his two triplet brothers. And my father.
He has much longer legs than me, and in about ten paces we’ll reach the corner, and be within sight of the door to the conference room.
I have to do something. Anything.
There’s a store cupboard, and I take my chance. I grab Sev, yank him to the side with all my strength—he barely moves but growls, “Maisie”, and push at the door. Then I drag him into the tiny space and press the door closed behind us.
Sev sighs as he looks down at me. An automatic light has come on, a flickering blue-white bulb with all the romance of an interrogation room. There are piles of flip-charts, boxes of pens, power cords, and shelves with computer equipment haphazardly piled onto them around us. The aesthetic is corporate torture chamber.
“Maisie, we can’t do this.” He drags his hands through his hair and even under these lights the silver at his temples gleams, and his blue eyes are dark. Almost rings of navy.
I recognise through the dizzying feel of nearness, that he is holding back.
“Please,” I say brokenly, gazing up at him, my hand still on his arm from getting him in here.
I can’t live without him. I’ve strip-teased every night since he taught me to kiss, and I felt his erection.
I did that to him. He wanted more, but he’s avoided me.
“I need you…”
His frown deepens and something in me breaks.
“No one else will help, because they’re scared of my dad. I can’t even go out.” That’s part of the truth, but not all. I only want him . “One more lesson. Please.”
He’s impassive, but he hasn’t moved away. He’s a statue, unmoving, too still. But his lips twitch, as though there’s an interior fight behind a stone wall of his skin.
I step closer, so my breasts touch his middle, and my neck is craned up to see his face. He’s breathing hard, and so am I.
Heat blooms between my legs.
He shudders, the inner struggle finally showing.
“I need more lessons,” I whisper and slowly bring my hands to rest on his warm chest. His pale grey suit and impeccable tie are pristine. What is he like underneath all that restraint? His shoulders are broad, and the little I felt of him last time was solid muscle. “I’m begging you.”
There’s a tense silence.
I have all the smarts of that computer monitor in the corner. Maybe I’m imagining this spark between us? I’ve dragged my billionaire boss into a store cupboard and I’m groping him.
Perhaps he doesn’t want me and there’s another explanation for how he knew about me dancing on the table.
My hands fall away and my chin dips. Tears nudge behind my eyes.
Then Sev groans, and before I know it, he’s pulled me against the wall with his body.
“Fuck it.”
He grips my hair, tugging it so I look at him.
“You want to be taught about sex? This is what you should know, sweetheart.” The bar of his cock digs into my soft belly, so hard it almost hurts. “It’s risky to play with a man. He might decide to take everything your pretty eyes offer.”
The shiver of arousal that goes through me is indecent. My breath is in little pants.
“Or he could shut you up by filling your mouth with his cock instead, fucking your throat until tears run down your cheeks.”
Then his lips are on mine again, before I can say that I’m eager to do what he just said. That I would happily do that and more for him.
This isn’t a sweet kiss like before. There’s no holding back. He kisses me like he’s a wild monster, backing me against the wall until I’m trapped between the cold unyielding plaster and his solid heat.
“Is this what you wanted to experience?” He grinds his erection into me, only thin layers of fabric between us. “A man desperate for you?”
His cock is a hot iron rod digging into me, hurting almost, but it’s good pain. It forces a needy whimper from my chest.
“And you want another kiss,” he asks, pulling back and glowering down into my face.
“Yes.” I tilt my chin up in invitation.
“Then I get to choose where the next kiss is, sweetheart,” he replies, and it’s so low and full of danger and promise that I shiver.
“Sit there.” But before I can move to the boxes he indicates, he’s grabbed me by the waist and put me onto them. For a second, I’m a doll. I’m just the weight of a feather as Mr Blackwood lifts me.
He stands between my dangling feet and types a message with impatient taps of his fingers and half his attention, as he shares his gaze between the phone and me. Then he slips the device back into his pocket.
“Told them I’d be late,” he informs me tersely. “Now. Lift your skirt.”
Fear spikes in me. This isn’t like last time, when he charmed and seduced me. This is a demand by a powerful man, who is used to getting his own way.
What will he think if I say no? Or worse, yes.
My hands are on the hem of my dress without my volition. It’s as though, despite the sparks of worry—someone might catch us, someone could see, he might think I’m a slut—I trust my boss so entirely I can’t fathom not doing what he says. My body knows that I’m his, even as my mind squeaks that this wasn’t what I asked for.
He breathes heavily through his nose as I lift my skirt up.
And up. And up. He’s so big, it’s intimidating revealing myself at his command. Then it’s at my waist, and I can’t go further.
“Good girl.” The praise reverberates through me like a long high note in a song. His gaze sweeps over my plain white cotton panties, his gaze going dark. Then he grasps the lace elastic of the waistband. Dragging it down, he rasps, “Lift.”
I shuffle my bottom as best I can to let him pull them off.
He slides them efficiently off my legs and stuffs them into his pocket.
“Your next lesson is to take what I give you and be very quiet, so we aren’t caught.” He grips my neck and pulls my face to his, his breath ghosting over my lips. “Do you understand?”
I nod eagerly.
“Spread.”
I hesitate. That’s so embarrassing. So bad. So naughty.
“Now,” he grunts. “We don’t have much time before my nosey brothers come looking for us.”
My muscles almost creak as I part my thighs.
“Yes. More.” Then he’s dropped to his knees before me and pushes my legs wider apart, until I’m completely open and exposed.
And I would feel terrible, ashamed, my face heating, but Sev looks at the slit between my legs as though it’s food, water and shelter, and he’s a man starving after a month alone in the desert. A year. More. A lifetime.
“Maisie,” he groans. “So beautiful.”
Before I can reply, he’s pressing kisses all the way around my core, so passionate that any denial dies in my throat. He’s fervent. It’s shocking how keen he is. I’m slightly confused, then he gets to my slit.
“Perfectly juicy, and wet,” he growls, and gives me a lick that makes my whole body jerk with pleasure.
Footsteps echo down the hallway just outside the door and I tense. But Sev doesn’t seem to care, holding my thighs down.
“Fucking delicious.” His mouth covers my clit, and I let out an involuntary shriek as a shower of sparks flies from where he sucks me.
“Shh.” He gives a rumbling chuckle and reaches up to tweak my waist in punishment. “Quiet girls get orgasms.”
“What do…?” I don’t manage to ask the question because his tongue finds my clit and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. He eats me greedily and my whole focus narrows to this amazing man and what he’s doing between my legs.
That and the answer he didn’t give to my non-question, but my mind supplies from what he said earlier—bad girl who is too noisy might get her mouth stuffed with his cock.
I can’t deny the thought makes me even hotter as Sev works my pussy as though he owns it. He sneaks in his fingers too, first just touching my entrance, then pushing in, insistent.
“Yield for me,” he murmurs when I tense, and I do. His fingers—more than one, I think—sink deeply into me and the sensation of having that bulk inside me is magical. Unreal. It’s like having him to struggle against, or perhaps with, makes every stroke of his tongue even better.
It’s all I can do to sit upright. I’m slumped, panting. On a stack of cardboard boxes, in a supply cupboard, Sev undoes me, making my body his own. Lighting me on fire.
A door slams somewhere, but my brain can’t comprehend what that means or why I should notice. I’m lost, overwhelmed.
“That’s it, good girl,” he says between licks. “Come for me.”
His fingers go demanding. A curl, a beckon. His mouth claps onto my clit and my orgasm is dragged out of me.
I completely lose it. I’m barely aware of who I am, or where we are, as the pleasure cascades through me in pulse after pulse.
Sev is my rock in the storm as bliss tingles right down to my fingertips and toes, radiating out from where he’s touching me.
His blue eyes are the first thing I see when my mind and body begin to recover.
His hand is over my mouth, and his middle finger is over my tongue like a pacifier. He’s watching me intently, and his lips and cheeks are wet. From licking me, I realise, and a fresh wave of arousal sweeps down my spine.
“Oh hey, have you got the cameras?” The woman’s voice is right outside the door, and Sev and I both freeze.
“How many do we need?” I recognise Florence, the head of HR.
“Only ten.” That’s Trish.
Sev glances from side to side, as I try to shove my shirt back down. But he doesn’t move.
“They’re going to come in,” I hiss, terror flaring down my spine. He just crowds closer to me, blocking the view of me from a potentially open door.
“Sev.” I’m panicking.
“Oh, then we have enough,” Florence replies. There’s a heart-sinking moment when I’m convinced they’ll enter. But they don’t, and seconds later another door has opened and closed, and we’re alone.
Safe. For now.
Sev hasn’t looked away from my face even for a second, like I’m the centre of his world.
Then he snaps and his hands are in my hair and he’s kissing me. Desperate, wet, his fingers tugging my sensitive scalp. I taste my own salty sweetness on his tongue, and I moan.
As quickly as he grabbed me, he jerks back, his eyes blaze.
“This cannot happen again.”
“But I?—”
“No!” His voice is like granite.
“I could—” Do for him what he did for me. And more.
“Clean up,” he interrupts me. “Be in the meeting room in five minutes.”
Then I’m left staring at the closed door, and I’m broken. A moment ago, it was from white-hot pleasure, but now it’s a break that’s bloody and cold and dark.
He doesn’t want to do this again?
He’ll watch me from afar, but he doesn’t want the real me.