Page 2 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

Janet sighs. “I know you’re disappointed. Hell, so am I, because I’m sadly single and would frankly love to hear what this man can do when given access to a bed and a few hours,” she says. I have to stifle a groan just thinking about it. “But I think you’re reading too much into this. What if it was a work thing? Maybe a deal fell apart? Or his bookie! Maybe he’s a gambler, and that guy was there to kneecap him, break his legs.”

“That’s not making me feel much better,” I tell her, but I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Janet always knows how to cheer me up.

“Broken legs heal,” she says, and finally I’m laughing.

“And I’m here to tell you that in my experience, legs have very little to do with the serving up of delicious orgasms.”

Still, I don’t think that was his bookie. Jared King doesn’t strike me as a gambler. He always seems much too in control for that. I guess it could be a business thing. He’s had a few major accounts on his desk all at once lately. Any one of them could be in trouble. Like, for instance, the Rochester account, which I screwed up so royally today. Maybe the man on his stoop had something to do with it, and seeing him reminded Jared of my epic fuck up. Maybe that’s why he sent me home. Or maybe it didn’t have to do with work at all.

Jared looked furious to see the man standing there. It wasn’t really so different than any of the other times I’d seem him do that silent simmer thing in the office. Jared King never yells. Instead he gets eerily still, his voice so low he forces you to strain to hear it, just another flexing of his power over you. His entire demeanor gives off that of a spring wound as tight as it can go, and any minute he could release the pressure and rain down fire and brimstone.

It’s almost worse that he never does. That low boil that somehow also runs ice cold is like the calm before a hurricane, and all you can do is plan how you’re going to get the hell out of there and hope you make it. So it’s not a big stretch to imagine that man standing on his stoop there to deliver news that the company had lost a client or a massive sum of money.

Still, there was something about the image of them face-to-face, squared off, Jared with his lips in a firm line, his fists clenched, that tells me there’s something else there. Something more. But at least I can be fairly certain it wasn’t anything to do with me.

Or at least I can hope.

I thank Janet for talking me off the ledge, and she makes me swear up and down that as soon as I get a good look at his dick I’ll call her with all the details.

“Help a single gal out, ok?” she says through a stifled yawn. “With a tongue like that, he’s gotta be packin’ heat.”

I laugh. “Will do,” I tell her. I’m glad this a phone call and not a gab session over coffee, because I’m red as a tomato right now.

I hang up, crawl back under the covers, and let my mind drift back to the moment in the car with Jared gazing up at me from between my legs. I feel a rush of heat through my body with the memory, and without thinking I close my eyes and let my fingers creep beneath the sheets. They find the edge of my panties and slip beneath them, where I’m as slick as I was back in the car, my skin still swollen with excitement. Just the memory of him turns me on as much as the reality. I let my fingers slip over my clit, gasping as I imagine his tongue pressing hard into me yet again.

My free hand grips a fist full of the sheets, my muscles straining, as I feel an orgasm build right alongside the memory of the one from before. My fingers work furiously, slipping over and inside as I picture his brown eyes watching me stand perched on the cliff, the glint in his eye as he watched me fall over it. And then my body explodes with sensation as I watch the scene over and over again in my mind’s eye, like a skipping record, until I finally fall asleep.