Page 7 of Due South

My eyes bug so wide I feel like they might drop onto the linoleum. This has got to be a joke, right?

India stands and leans over her desk, the shallow pile of folders shifting under her torso as she lays her hands by her head.

“Pull down your pants. Panties too.”

I watch as India obeys him, and my cheeks must be flushing scarlet. I don’t have, like, aproblemwith sex. I’ve worked damn hard not to after how I grew up. Total thumbs up for the sex, even whatever the heck kind of kinky sex they appear to be into, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch. I make to get up, but Evans holds me fast and leans over to whisper in my ear.

“If we leave right now, they’ll see us. Close your eyes and plug your ears if you want to, but they can’t know we’re here.”

He makes a lot of sense. India would probably be so humiliated she’d fire us on the spot or make us so miserable we’d leave of our own volition. Well, no, I don’t think she’d do that on purpose, but if your boss can’t look you in the face, you’re not of much good to her, are you? Also there’s a feeling buried underneath the mortification that I don’t want to think about too closely.

I close my eyes as tight as I can and that’s when I hear it. It’s not the sound of leather hitting a butt. I’m the youngest of five and the best behaved. I spent a lot of time listening to my father give my older brothers a hiding after he came in from dealing with the cows because they’d been wreaking havoc and my mother was down to her last nerve. That’s not a strapping. That’s the sound of flesh and blood meeting skin and bones. He’sspankingher.

The uncomfortable feeling gets stronger as I listen to Cris spank her. That’s right. My badass, take-no-prisoners, diamond-tough boss is gettingspanked, and judging by the noises I hear, she likes it. After a few minutes, there’s a pause and it might be safe. I open my eyes only to be greeted by the sight of Cris’s belt coming down across India’s butt. She makes a weird sound, and then he lays into her again, the crack of the belt deafening in the otherwise silent office.

I sneak a look at Evans, expecting him to have his eyes shut, but he doesn’t. Instead he’s staring at them and he’s… I’m by no means an expert at these kinds of things, but I’m pretty sure he’s turned on. Even in the dim light, I can tell his cheeks are flushed and he’s watching with glazed eyes.

I let my gaze drift back, and Cris is still hitting her. Hard. Doesn’t that hurt? When I’m about to stand up and protest, he stops and leans over her, saying something I can’t hear. His body draped over hers, it’s almost sweet. Like a post-whipping cuddle. None of this makes any sense. And it makes even less that, when he stands up, he takes his belt to her again, striping not only across her behind, but the backs of her thighs as well.

It’s possible I’ve had a crush on Cris, though I’ve tried to keep it under wraps. He’s handsome, nice, and the way he looks at India… Devoted isn’t the word for it. But every time he hits her, my infatuation dies a little. That doesn’t look fun, it doesn’t look sexy, and if that’s what he’s into… That is so not for me.

That’s when India cries out. Cris drops the belt and grabs her hair again, using it to lead her to one of the chairs across from her desk. He has her kneel on it, facing backward, while he unzips his jeans. Then he grabs her by the hips and… I can’t watch.

I close my eyes and crush my hands over my ears. I’m tempted to start humming to drown out the noises still making their way to my eardrums, but they’d hear. Weirdly though, it’s not that I’m disgusted. I’m not jealous of India, either. But there’s something about watching them…

I crack open my eyes, and he’s fucking her, his hands gripping the top of the chair for leverage.

“Come on, mili. What’s it going to take for you to come for me like this? You need to touch yourself, don’t you? Go ahead, dirty girl. You’re going to come for me.”

She slips a hand between her legs, and it’s not long before she’s making desperate whimpers and pleading. I can’t deny it. It’s completely fascinating. And not a little arousing. My body is trying to tell me, convince me, I like this. My dress feels tight around my breasts, and my nipples are hard. When I shift, they rub against the lace of my bra. They’re almost uncomfortably sensitive. And between my legs…

Since my last boyfriend, I haven’t done much in the way of masturbating. He wasn’t a particularly nice guy and hadn’t done much for me in bed either. Half the time we’d have sex, I’d hardly be wet at all. He hadn’t noticed. Or he hadn’t cared. After we broke up, sex had seemed like something I’d like a time-out from, and I’d been working so much, it seemed like an unnecessary frill I couldn’t spare the time or energy on. But now my libido is getting called up to the big leagues.

I shift uncomfortably, my underwear sliding wetly between my thighs. It would be totally wrong to go home and think about them while I got myself off, right? What is even the matter with me? What I should want to do is find a giant bucket of brain bleach and stick my head in it until all memories of this unfortunate incident have been thoroughly erased.

Finally, he tells her she can come—he gives herpermission?—and she cries out again, this time in unmistakable pleasure. I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that felt as good as India’s sounds. I remember Evans is still perched beside me, and when I look over at him, his hands are fisted in his lap, his knuckles white.

Evans notices me watching him and turns a furious shade of red. Is it because he’s mortified and repulsed? I know that’s how I should feel, but I don’t. Well, mortified, yes, because I get embarrassed at the drop of a hat—literally, dropping things is a source of embarrassment for me—but not disgusted.

Judging by the look on Evans’s face, he’s not about to puke in a conveniently located trashcan either. He might—if I’m lucky and happen to work in an office full of perverts like people at home had warned me everyone out in California was—even be reluctantly turned on.

Speaking of being horrified, though, I can’t believe the thought has dragged my gaze back to Evans’s crotch and to a—yeah. The very obvious hardness straining at the zipper of his slacks. The very obvious, very large, very hard erection. When I’d glanced at his clenched fists, I’d somehow managed to skim over that, although how I have no idea. Evans is hung like a bull, and I would know. Holy heck.

Lust crackles through me, along with visions of tearing off Evans’s clothes to see what exactly he’s hiding under those off-the-rack suits, which is just… No. I should not be thinking about a coworker like that. To banish the unpleasantly arousing thought from my mind, I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. It’s then that Cris comes. I can tell because he chokes out, “Fuck, India. Jesus, fuck.”

I realize suddenly how loud my breath has become. It mingles with Evans’s equally clipped and heavy inhales and exhales. Another flash of an entirely inappropriate scene flashes through my mind—is this what we’d sound like if we had sex?

Oh my god, Lucy. Not okay. Not okay!If we keep this up—this hot and heavy breathing—we’re so getting caught. And we can’t. I can’t lose this job. I won’t get another one that’s as good. Sure, I work my butt off and India can be demanding, but I’ve gotten used to my salary and hooked on the praise she doles out. It feels good for someone to say something nice about me that’s not about my looks or my virtue.

I nudge Evans’s thigh, and he freezes, probably coming to the same realization I have. We might’ve gotten away with this while they were…occupied, but we can’t anymore. I sit squeezing my thighs together because I’m soaking wet and pulsing with want. It seems suddenly and unbearably unfair I can’t get off. But instead of reaching up my skirt and between my thighs to stroke myself to orgasm, I have to sit and watch as Cris takes India into his lap, where he buries his face in her neck and talks quietly to her while he pets her hair. After a while, she slides off of him and rights her clothing before grabbing the file from her desk. Cris puts himself back together as well and smacks her lightly on her butt. I wince as she gasps, and I expect her to snap.

“We don’t have time for round two,” India scolds playfully.Round two?! Jesus, no, please no round two.

“Maybe later. For now let’s get you home and back to work, boss lady.”

They kiss and head out hand-in-hand. When the door to the office suite clicks closed, I let out a breath and turn to Evans, a relieved giggle bubbling up. But it’s smothered by his mouth crashing down on mine. Evans has always seemed mild to me, but this is anything but mild. It’s demanding, passionate…hungry. Like he wants to devour me. I want him to.

As suddenly as he kissed me—his lips pressed hard into mine, so hard we almost cracked teeth—his mouth is gone, and I’m left gasping while he sputters.

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