Page 47 of Duplicity

CHAPTER 23

Brendan

I’ve always loved my job. I thrive on it, in fact. I love this company that three generations of Sullivans have created. I love the challenges, the creativity, the wins. And I adore this beautiful space we’ve built to house our people, to nurture their talents and coax the very best out of them.

But I have never enjoyed coming into work quite so much as I’m doing this week.

Marlowe’s new position got off to a cracking start on Monday with that shopping spree. For the first time, I understood why little kids love dressing up their dolls. Marlowe is a highly intelligent, well-educated and talented woman. She seems organised as fuck and I have no doubt she’ll whip me and all my admin firmly into shape while taking a huge load off Plain Elaine.

All that is undeniable.And yet.She is also my brand-new fuck toy, and she’s glorious. Just glorious. Stunningly, head-turningly beautiful, for starters, all long-limbed and molten-eyed and golden-haired. She’s an absolute knockout, and she wears her new clothes so perfectly that a guy is incapable of doing anything but taking them right off her.

She also has a temperament I can really get on board with. She’s articulate, assertive, but not aggressive. She’s not afraid of hard work, and she’s no snowflake. While I was sold on her looks, I can’t afford to have an EA who’s purely decorative, and Marlowe is earning her salary across the board. She’s warm. Friendly. Upbeat. Resilient. Funny.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I like her. As a person. I’m not a woo-woo guy, but her vibe is positive. She has a good energy about her, an energy that draws you in and has nothing to do with those astounding looks.

I went easy on her yesterday—a quick blow job because she was sore from Monday. But today is a hoot. I get Alo to send over a sexy little white tennis dress and I drag her along to my racquets club at lunchtime where I proceed to beat her at padel by the skin of my teeth. Considering it’s her first time playing the sport, she’s fucking amazing. She’s seriously sporty: great eye for the ball; great stamina (a fact I duly note); and my absolute favourite trait—a total refusal to yield a point until she’s done absolutely everything in her power to win it.

She puts up such an amazing performance, in fact, and looks so hot doing it with her long legs and lithe figure and hair in a wholesome plait, that I feel compelled to drag her into the disabled changing room afterwards. Not only is it private, but the open-plan shower gives it more of a wet room dynamic.

‘Brendan!’ she gasps. ‘We shouldn’t be in here! What if someone needs it?’

‘Ineed it.’

‘You know what I mean.’

She presses her lips together, unimpressed, and I sigh. My little rule follower. My good girl in her tiny white dress and schoolgirl plait, her smooth, golden skin slick with sweat. ‘There are three disabled changing rooms. Three. And are any of them in use?Nope. So stop worrying and come the fuck here.’

For good measure, I peel off my t-shirt and chuck it in a damp pile in the corner. That gets her attention. She takes in my bare chest and drifts over, biting her lip.

‘Come here,’ I repeat. ‘I thrashed you fair and square, now I want my spoils of war.’

‘You didn’t thrash me—you beat me by a small margin—and has anyone ever told you it’s not polite to gloat?’ Her brown eyes flash as I push down my tennis shorts, leaving myself naked. But not before I openly remove a couple of condoms from the pocket and place them on the shelf, arching my eyebrows in a challenge.

I suspect my delicious little EA has a fiercely competitive streak. Bring it on. Racquet sports as foreplay is something I can definitely do.

‘I’m going to gloat over you very,veryhard. So why don’t you take off that dress, and your bra, and your panties and bend over like a good little loser? Because I want to take my prize for a ride.’

Her breath catches.She likes that.Hmm. I lick my lips and watch avidly as she pulls her dress up over her head, leaving her in just a white sports bra and plain white cotton panties which might actually be the death of me. They may as well haveDEFILE MEprinted all over them, for fuck’s sake.

She toes off her shoes. Bends to pull off her socks, then strips out of the bra and panties and stands before me, skin still flushed from our exertions on the court.

Yep. She’ll do very nicely indeed.

I crank the shower on without breaking her gaze. ‘Are you wet yet?’

She takes a step forward. ‘You tell me.’

Fuck, she’s a fast learner. I like that a lot. I shoot her a filthy smile and crook my finger at her. It seems she likes what she sees, because her eyes drop to my already-hard dick and stay there.

I wind her plait around one hand to bring her gaze back up to my face as I slide my fingers between her legs.

Slick as fuck.

‘Soaked,’ I pronounce, and she blushes more. I gesture at the shower. ‘Get in there and bend over for me.’

The sight of Marlowe under the torrent of water, hands flat on the tiles and long golden plait hanging over one shoulder and perfect little cunt presented perfectly for me, is so intensely gratifying that I suck in a harsh breath. I don’t waste any time, getting straight to my knees and parting her arse cheeks so I can stick my nose and mouth straight into warm, wet nirvana as the water sluices over us, lubricating everything.

She is fucking delicious. I burrow in further. My movements are ravenous and unrefined, but she doesn’t seem to care. Quite the opposite. She squirms and moans as I feast on her. I keep going until she’s coming violently, pushing her cunt into my face like she feels no shame at all, only blind need.

---