Page 51 of Mark my Words

“Why can’t I get enough of you?” he whispered against my lips, looking into my eyes, keeping eye contact as he continued his slow thrusts. “You’re fucking embedded in my brain.”

Nodding, I gasped as he gripped my hips in his large hands, tilting my pelvis fractionally and hitting a new spot inside me. I agreed wholeheartedly. Sex with Sam was an addiction, and I had no idea how to quit. Every rational thought that told me this would never last was pushed out every time he was inside of me. We should have kept our hands off each other for many reasons, but nothing else seemed to matter when we were together.

“Fuck me,” I panted, my back arching against the door as he pulled me into him more forcefully. With each thrust, the door shifted slightly in the frame, and I hoped it wasn’t enough to draw attention from the rest of the office. I was sure we most likely weren’t the first people to fool around in these rooms, but doing it on company time and getting caught was not on my list of workplace rules to break.

“Are you close?” he panted, leaning back and grinding into me in a way that made my eyes roll back into my head.

“Yes,” I moaned softly, concentrating on the feel of him so deep inside of me and the pressure his movements focused directly on my clit. “Just keep doing that.”

“God, I wish I could see your tits,” he groaned quietly as his head fell into my clothed chest, his pace increasing as he pushed me closer and closer to release.

“Later.” My voice was a breathy moan as I shifted my hips into his movements, chasing that high I knew he could give me. “Make me come.”

My eyes were clenched shut, my back arched, and my fist clenched tightly around the material of his tie as he drove me over the edge. A moan slipped out before I bit my lip, trying to hold it in as I clenched around him, pulsing as he braced his hand against my back, the other slapping against the door as he thrust into me repeatedly.

He groaned into my chest as his hips faltered, pinning me to the door as he came.

My heart pounded frantically as he peeked at me from beneath his lashes, his face still half-buried in my chest. “There’s something wrong with us.”

“We’re a pair of sex addicts,” I agreed, laughing at the wolfish grin that formed on his lips.

“I think we found our new workspace.”

“Sam.” I frowned. “I’m not fucking you in the conference room every day.”

“Well, not every day…” he laughed, helping me lower my shaky legs back to the floor. I wobbled on my heels momentarily as he reached behind me and freed my hair from its messy bun. He leaned in and kissed my lips, briefly cupping my cheek. “I’m sure it won’t turn you on this much once we get to the serial killer content.”

“Clearly, you underestimate me.”

SAM

BOSTON

Afternoon editing time in the private conference room had become the highlight of my days. It also didn’t hurt that Kristine had been wearing skirts to work for weeks. Every time we went into that room, we told ourselves we’d stop doing it, but we kept doing it. Fun fact: the conference room chairs were tall enough to keep the door handle from opening. I’d also started carrying a pencil case full of condoms in my messenger bag for work.

“Would you stop smirking over there,” Kristine scolded as she threw a piece of popcorn at me from across the table. We’d settled into a routine of working together in whatever office Isobel and Adrian weren’t using during the morning, heading into the corner conference room while half the building was out for lunch, and spending a few hours editing in there afterward before we headed back to check in with our respective supervisors. “It makes you look creepy when I know you’re editing her finding a dead body.”

“I’m not smirking. This is my face.” I laughed as I did a faux smolder in her direction. “Is this better?”

“Why, yes, Zoolander, that one is so much better.“ It was hard to maintain it while she was rolling her eyes at me, but I managed. “You’re making it hard to concentrate.”

“Well, it is hard being really, really, ridiculously good-looking,” I responded, adopting my best Blue Steel impression.

“Oh my God, Sam, we were barely toddlers when that movie came out.”

“You forget I have four older sisters. My oldest sibling is twelve years older than me. I’ve seen all kinds of movies, and Becca worked at a video store in high school.”

She cringed, “Do they still have those?”

“Not many, but I remember her taking me there to pick out Shrek and the original Harry Potter.“ She’d gotten her license around the time I turned four, and my parents had made her drive me places when they needed alone time. My mom had called them ‘Big Sister Dates,’ but I’m sure they kicked us all out of the house on Saturday afternoons to fuck. My dad’s vasectomy was the only reason there weren’t a dozen of us. Langley men–and women–multiplied like rabbits.

“She’s probably the reason I got into reading. She always gave me copies of books she’d read once I’d learned how to read. Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, she was really into fantasy novels. I was her little sidekick until she started dating, then I was just a tiny cockblock who wanted to play sports with her boyfriends.”

“Yeah, you are a bit of a cockblock,” she laughed, tucking her stylus above her ear, a loose tendril of hair falling in front of her face.

“I know,” I smiled, reaching across the table to brush it back into place with the tip of my finger. “I’m the worst.”

“At least you’re self-aware. It’s always good to be in touch with your true self.”

---