Anything He Wants

throat were gratifying to hear.

Part of my brain, a very small part, was wondering what on earth I was doing but I tuned it out. I had gone far too long without anyone noticing me; even my coworkers ignored me. So for a man this beautiful to see me, let alone approach in any fashion, was a heady notion. I didn't allow myself to wonder why he chose me or what would happen next – right now I only wanted to feel. Fingers dug into my scalp and my own orgasm rushed to meet me even as his balls contracted, close to their own finale.

Hands pushed me away, back against the concrete wall, and I disengaged with a surprised pop. The man before me bent down and wound his arms around my torso; I was lifted into the air and thrust back against the wall, a hard body settling between my legs. I turned startled eyes to the handsome stranger's face, only inches now from mine, then I felt his member probing my entrance. He pressed inside and I bit back a cry from the intense pleasure. Muscles that hadn't seen action in too long were stretched, my own juices giving him an easy entrance. His lips crushed mine, swallowing my cries as he pounded me back into the concrete wall.

The orgasm I'd been coaxing along with my fingers rocketed to the surface with the rubbing and stretching and grinding. My scream was caught by the stranger's lips as I came hard, waves of pleasure rolling through my body. I kissed him wildly, nipping at his lips and raking my fingernails down the jacket arms of his suit. My response brought out a similar wildness in him and he pounded into me, releasing my mouth and latching onto my shoulder with his teeth. My cries, fainter now after the orgasm, still echoed off the walls in the small alcove.

He gasped against my skin, then he pulled out and came on the ground beneath me, his free hand rubbing out the last of his orgasm. Sandwiched between his hot body and the hard concrete, I finally noticed the chill of the cold stone and the sound of cars deep inside the complex making their way toward the exit. The chill against my wet thighs served as a wake-up call to what I had allowed to happen; I pressed feebly against the hard shoulders, my body still limp from my orgasm.

The stranger stepped back, still supporting my weight with large hands beneath my backside, then slowly lowered me to the floor. I wobbled in my heels, gripping his arm for support before stepping away. The enormity of what I had just done – again – sent my mind reeling. I began shivering, only partly from the cold, then jumped as something warm and heavy was draped over my shoulders. I glanced up briefly at the now jacket-less stranger but was unable to utter any words of thanks. He helped hold it for me as I pulled the dress coat slowly over my arms. While not a cold weather jacket, it remained warm from his body and cut the worst of the chill which helped immensely.

“Let me take you home.”

The moment I heard the words I shook my head, stepping away from him. My body burned with shame and I couldn't bear to look at him. “I need to catch the train,” I mumbled.

A finger came under my chin and tilted my head up until I was looking into that handsome face. His face was impassive but I could see concern in his beautiful green eyes. “Please,” he said softly.

My body still responded to his touch; I wanted to lay my cheek against the rough skin of his hand. Tears pricked my eyes at the silly sentiment – was I really so desperate? – and I stepped back again, pulling from his grip. Clearing my throat and forcing myself not to act like a simpering twit, I looked him in the eye. “I need to catch the train.” Keeping my head high even as shame made me want to crawl away and hide, I started walking away then faltered. “Your jacket,” I murmured and started to shrug out of it.

He held up a hand to stop me. “Keep it.” A bemused smile flickered across his lips and it seemed for a moment I had his full attention…and approval. “You need it more than I do right now.”

The air was chilly and I knew I looked a mess; the coat hung on me but at that moment I needed the cover. Murmuring my thanks I walked quickly out of the alcove and started toward the exit. I lifted a shaky hand to my head; my hair was loose but seemed to be in order. I'd need to find a mirror quickly as I was certain I looked a fright.

I heard the sound of a car pulling up behind me and stopping. Against my better judgment I glanced back to see a chauffeur step out of a long black limousine and open the passenger door, and the handsome stranger duck inside. I stood there, staring like an idiot, as the driver closed the door then pulled out toward the exit. The windows of the car were tinted so I couldn't see inside as it passed by me, and I watched as my erstwhile ride pulled past the guards and out into the loud traffic outside. Who on earth was this man? I wondered, then shut off that line of thought and headed out of the empty garage.

I pulled into a nearby cafe and locked myself inside the bathroom to clean myself up. Fifteen minutes later I ducked back out, my satchel hanging by its strap over a bare arm and the dress coat draped over the bag. I caught a later train than usual but most of that time was a haze, my brain repeating one thought over and over again.

What the hell was I doing?

3

The next morning, I arrived at work half an hour early and made sure the elevator I took did not contain the stranger. Nervous as I was that someone might comment on my actions the previous day, it was a relief to be ignored as usual by the people around me. The building at that hour held a fraction of its usual occupants but I hurried to my desk to avoid any unwanted conflicts with certain green-eyed individuals.

I'd spent most of my evening and night trying to figure out whether or not I should go to work the next morning. The recklessness and downright stupidity of my actions haunted me all night, making me go so far as to question my sanity. This isn’t who I am. I'd never been so thoughtless about my actions and a desperate libido wasn't answer enough for me.

I'd started searching out job opportunities, something I could turn to if my present situation went sour, but the market was as tough as ever. The proper half of my brain demanded I quit and leave this job, but the logical portion maintained I needed the money. Rent on my tiny studio apartment was coming due and I had no other options at the moment unless I wanted to live on the streets.

Oh Lucy, how far you’ve fallen.

Once I got to my desk I spent my time on work that avoided me having to log into the computer as I didn't want my early arrival noticed by management. My coworkers arrived, chatting amongst themselves as they passed by my tiny cubicle, but I stayed in my little corner for most of the day, content to be ignored. The day went by uneventfully until almost four in the afternoon when my boss poked her head around the walls of my desk. “Follow me please, Ms. Delacourt.”

My manager's presence startled me. I saw her almost every day but, after my initial interview, she had all but ignored my presence in the office. That she chose now to talk to me had the world spinning and my stomach curling into knots. Her tone brooked no argument however and with a hurried, “Yes Ms. Crabtree,” and a brief pause to get myself together, I pulled myself up on trembling legs and followed after her.

She bypassed her office door and strode out the door of our office section to the hall outside. I followed after her silently, afraid to ask what this was about for fear of learning the whole building knew about my sexcapades the day before. I could think of no other reason I'd be called out, and I doubt they'd take me out of my section simply to fire me.

We rode the elevator silently up another four stories. My manager never once spoke to me and was impossible to read – not that I tried too hard, afraid of what I’d find. The moment the elevator doors opened however I knew I was in an entirely different world. Gone were the lifeless narrow corridors: the elevator opened into a wide passage lined with dark wood paneling that had the company name 'Hamilton' in bold letters across the wall. The wide entryway led toward a reception desk in the opening of a large open room. Office doors lined the walls and two large glass-encased conference rooms on either corner of the large area. There was a rich old world sense about everything, dark woods and gold accents mixing with modern lighting and artwork.

“Mr. Hamilton is expecting us,” my boss said to the lady at the desk, who nodded and picked up a phone as we passed.

I stumbled at her words, my legs suddenly refusing to work. Why are we in the corporate section of the building? I'd never read up on the company; it was a temp job, meant to be only a short-term employment gig, but I knew this wasn’t any kind of business floor. It has a Donald Trump feel, more a reception area than an office. There was no way however that they'd send me here if they knew what I'd done.