Page 12 of Staff Only

His name on my lips was enough to light a fuse and set me off like a powder keg. I groaned, drawing myself out before thrusting back in, again and again, working myself up to a frantic pace. His channel tightened around me, the sound of slick flesh slapping together mixing with our moaning.

I told myself to savor it, to make it last. If I could only have him once, then I needed to make it count. The pleasure I felt only barely held back the self-loathing. Roland and I should’ve been talking, I needed to tell him the truth…

But then his ass clenched around me like a fist, and all rational thought was lost. “Gods, you’re so damn tight.” I marveled at how perfect he felt, as if he were made just for me.

“Emerson, fuck, yes,” he grunted as I pounded into him hard enough that the desk skittered forward, squealing against the floor.

His moans were getting louder, and these walls weren’t soundproof. As he crested his climax, I clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his shout. He stiffened, his cum dripping down the side of my desk. As his inner walls squeezed around my shaft, his entire body shuddering beneath me, the heat and pressure that had been building for what felt like years finally blew, and I emptied myself into his ass, painting his insides with my cum. It felt like it went on forever, pulse after pulse, until finally my knot expanded, locking our bodies together.

I collapsed over him, resting my head on his shoulder, sweat wicking into his shirt. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Shit. What have I done? Guilt and regret were already taking the place of pleasure. How was I supposed to let him go now? He needed to get himself as far away from me as possible! I was poison.

He chuckled, a sleepy, sated sound. “Emerson, that was—” he began, but I couldn’t let him finish that sentence.

“I’m getting married,” I blurted out before I could second-guess myself.

“W-what?” he gasped, pushing off the desk and forcing me to stand, our bodies still locked together. He stumbled, and I tried to brace him, but he slapped my hands away, wrenching around to try to look at me. “To who?”

“To Eva Ward.”

He instinctively tried to flee, and I bit back a groan as it tugged on my knot. “You bastard,” he muttered, tears building.

“Roland, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” Even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t enough.

“Yeah. You should’ve.” He cursed as he finally managed to pull himself off me, far too early, and both of us shuddered at the sensation of my knot, still semi-inflated, squeezing from his hole. My cum dripped down his legs, and he bent over to jerk his pants back up, turning away to stuff himself into his underwear.

Under different circumstances, we would’ve been basking in bed in the blissful afterglow. I felt a fresh wave of grief as I mourned the loss of him and anything we could’ve—should’ve—had. So what if he hated me? It was better that way.

I didn’t want to give in to the mayor’s demands, but I just didn’t see another way out of this. I would never leave anyone on my staff without their job, the income they relied on to support their families, not to mention breaking up the found family they’d built here with their coworkers at the hotel. They were counting on me to do whatever it took to protect them, and I wouldn’t betray that trust.

Tears spilling down his cheeks, Roland looked back at me and shook his head, scoffing. “Fuck you, Monsieur Holland,” he spat, before storming out the door.

9

Roland

I wanted to despise Emerson. I’d earned it, that hatred. I wanted to scream, pull my hair, throw and smash something into a million pieces. I wanted to rage against the complete betrayal of how he’d used me and then cast me aside, but… the emotions just wouldn’t stick.

Because I didn’t hate him. Not even a little.

Gods, I was pathetic. I shoved my half-eaten sandwich away and sagged deeper into the breakroom chair, dropping my head onto the table with a thud. I wished I could retreat into my fantasy land where Emerson was mine, but with a single act of real passion, the dream was shattered beyond repair.

It didn’t make any sense that he’d use me like that. I knew Emerson Holland, right down to the depths of his soul. We’d been working together for years, and never once had he given in to the temptation. Why now? What had changed? It couldn’t have been that I wasn’t what he’d expected, that he’d had a taste and decided I wasn’t good enough… Right? Was it just about the chase, and once I’d let myself be caught, the game was over?

He didn’t love Eva Ward, that was a fact. I wasn’t blind, I saw the way he was around her. He didn’t want her; he wanted me! He couldn’t disguise how much he’d enjoyed my body. Our chemistry was off the charts, always had been, and there was zero interest in his eyes when he glared at that vixen. What could make a person marry someone if not for love?

The question opened up a bottomless pit inside me, and I felt like I was falling, my stomach lurching. Because what problem had plagued Emerson and the hotel as long as I’d known him? Money.

The door opened and Mercy peeked in. “Are you coming back?” she asked softly. “I need to pee.”

“Oh.” I peeked at my watch and realized it was later than I’d thought. I’d been on break for too long. “Sorry, I lost track of time,” I muttered.

I followed her back toward the front desk, but when she turned down the hall toward the bathroom, I went straight, emerging in the lobby. It was a quieter night than usual, with the end of summer looming and the school year about to start up again. Vacations were over, which meant the light, happy feeling was gone. The lobby was empty, the electric glow of the chandeliers above reflecting off the marble floor, and my eyes drifted across the room to Monsieur Holland’s closed office door.

There was a tug from somewhere in my chest. Emerson wasn’t here since it was well after midnight. He was probably home sleeping—I refused to think about who might be in that bed with him. Even knowing the office was empty, my feet directed me toward it, and I threw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Mercy wasn’t on her way back. The hotel had security cameras, but the position of night security guard hadn’t been filled, and nobody ever watched the camera footage unless there was a reason to. Besides, the door was probably locked.

Except when I twisted the knob, it turned easily in my hand.

I paused, licking my lips, as I debated with myself. Was I really doing this? Damn right I was. Something was going on around here, and I was tired of just being a witness on the sidelines. I needed answers.

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