Page 4 of Bad for Me

Bernard and Isaac stare back at me, standing side by side on the beach.

I can’t help but see the resemblance. It’s almost uncanny how Isaac is practically a young carbon copy of my boss. The only difference between the two is that while Bernard may have a slight tan from all his time exploring the outdoors, Isaac’s skin is naturally golden—a trait from his mother who was originally from Trinidad. There’s also the fact that Bernard’s hair is silver, matching his neatly trimmed beard, while Isaac has dark brown, wavy hair and lacks facial hair. For a man in his early fifties, Bernard doesn’t look or act old.

Maybe having a twenty-five-year-old son keeps him young.

But other than skin and hair color, Bernard has managed to photocopy himself. Both men are close to six and a half feet tall, though Bernard might be asmidgetaller. They both take good care of their physical form—clearly working out regularly and eating right. Their jawlines are so strong and straight, they could probably cut through anything. And the intensity of their gazes? Utterlysmoldering.

My free hand slips under my bra to tweak my painfully erect nipple. I gasp at the pleasure that comes with the motion. As I roll it between my fingers, I squeeze my thighs together harder. I know if I just dive down between my legs to tend to the throbbing demand of my body, it’ll be over all too quickly.

I won’t be seeing either Isaac or Bernard for almost two weeks, thanks to the holiday season upon us, so I want to make this last.

I move to the other nipple, giving it the attention it so desperately craves. My hips jerk as I tease myself. The soft moans that slip past my lips grow louder the wetter and more needy I get. My eyelids lower, but I never take my gaze off the two men in the photo. I want them to see me, Ineedtheir gazes as I?—

The door to my office flings open and hits the wall with a bang.

I levitate off the couch with a shriek of surprise. Another shriek slips out when I realize who’s standing there in the doorway.

Isaac stares down at me. The look on his face is a mixture of victory and hunger. He has one hand outstretched to keep the door from hitting him as it bounces off the wall and the other one dug deep into his pocket.

Oh no.

“W-what, what are you doing? Get out of here!” My breathless demand is completely ignored as Isaac lowers his hand slowly. His eyes rake over my body with stark appreciation.

Just like I fantasize about on a nightly basis.

Except, this is no fantasy—it’s a nightmare. A client has just walked in on me practically naked, laying where he was just sitting with a picture of him and his dad in my hand. Actually, he doesn’t know about the picture yet. Quickly, I scramble to my feet and hide the frame behind my back. With my other hand, I try to cover my body.

“Get out!” This time my words come out a little stronger.

“No.”

Isaac moves further into the room and slams the door shut behind him. “I knew you would look good under those plain skirts and dresses but Christ…” his voice trails off as he shakes his head in slow wonderment as his eyes continue to peruse over me.

“Isaac, this is improper!”

He snorts. “I’mthe one being improper?”

“Leave at once or I’ll?—”

“You’ll what? Call my father? And what do you think he’ll say when I tell him I found you undressed and pleasuring yourself inhisestablishment?” Isaac counters, a slow, devious smile spreading across his face. “What are you hiding behind your back there? Could it be the picture of me and Dad that he keeps inhisoffice? I’m sure he’ll be surprised to hear that you had it in here while you were in a state of undress.”

Shit.

This can’t be happening. My whole face feels like it's burning. Humiliation and dread spread like a fire throughout my body. If he tells his father, I’ll be fired. I suck in a shaky breath and reach for my blouse on my desk. My mind races as I try to come up with a game plan or an exit strategy.

“Isaac, please… You need to go.”

“Go?” He tilts his head and regards me with amusement. “But I thought you wanted to know what I was going to treat myself with for Christmas this year?”

He stalks toward me slowly, obviously in no hurry to end my suffering. With each forward step he takes, I take one backward. That is, until my back hits the bookshelf and I find myself with nowhere else to go.

Isaac stops in front of me and yanks my blouse out of my hands to toss it aside.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

Ask him about his Christmas present? Right now? I know Isaac tends to have a one-track mind when it comes to something he wants, but this is a bit extreme. I shake my head slowly. My eyes hold his as I watch his every move. What’s going on here? Why is this happening to me? And why the hell are my nipples tighter now than ever before?

“What a shame. I suppose I’ll have to pique your interest.”

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