Page 33 of So Close

“Would you care to join us for dessert?” Witte asks you, placing your silverware in the sink. “I’ve made Indian Pudding.” His voice is smooth and unruffled as he pulls a fresh wineglass out of a cupboard and sets it at the place next to me. Like all the other crystal glasses, it’s etched with lilies.

Your back tenses at the blatant assumption that you will reply in the affirmative. Your jaw is so tight it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack under the strain. But in the end, you pull out the barstool beside me. You sit and push your newly supplied glass aside. Your gaze is locked with mine, focused and hot with temper, as you take my wine instead.

One of Witte’s salt-and-pepper brows lifts with silent reproach. You’re looking at me when you tell him, “Lily doesn’t drink, Witte.”

“I can still toast,” I qualify. “Do you remember how it goes?” Raising my arm, I offer cheers to you both with a smile. “Here’s to you.”

A quick inhalation, then you join in. “Here’s to me.”

“May we never disagree.”

“But if we do” – your voice deepens and turns rough – “I’d bleed for you.”

“Here’s to me,” I finish, tapping my glass to yours and Witte’s.

The fine crystal chimes and resonates into the subsequent silence.

22

ALIYAH

“Fuck, babe, are you close?”he pants, sweat from his face dripping on my thighs. The scent of his cologne, something musky and warm, fills the air between us.

I grit my teeth. “Don’t stop!”

Growling, Rogelio starts thrusting harder and faster. I’ll have to find my orgasm despite his efforts, not because of them, but that’s nothing new. I’ve always had to provide my own foreplay if I want to climax with him. Young enough to be my son, the Baharan security chief has energy to spare but lacks finesse.

Holding on to the edge of the desk with one hand, I reach between my legs to rub my clitoris as his erection drives into me. The pleasure from my circling fingers radiates outward, and my sex tightens. Rogelio growls.

“Not yet,” I gasp, feeling the pressure build. I massage myself frantically, my lower body tensing in expectation.

“God, you’re squeezing me like a fist,” he groans. “I’m going to cum.”

“Wait …!”

His head falls back, and he moans, his grip on my hips tightening. Then his rhythm shifts as he lets go, the speed slowing into one, two, three deep grinding humps as he empties himself.

The bestial sound of his release stimulates me enough to follow him, a soft gasp escaping me as the coiling strain releases in a rush of endorphins.

I’m still panting as he staggers back a few steps and drops into his desk chair, his penis covered in glistening latex and still semi-hard. Behind him, Midtown is a sprawl of twinkling lights in semi-darkness.

“Damn, you’re a hot lay, Aliyah,” he says, leering at my vagina as he swipes sweat from his forehead.

Hiding my distaste for his crudeness, I close my legs and slide off the desk, planting my palm on the top for balance as my legs adjust to being closed after nearly thirty minutes of being spread wide.

“Made you weak in the knees?” he teases, rolling his chair forward and dropping the condom in the trash can.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Rogelio. It’s not attractive.”

“Good thing my dick is,” he rejoins, not the least offended.

The truth is his penis is average. It’s the rest of him that’s appealing. He keeps his dark hair cut high and tight, which might not be the most flattering style but doesn’t detract from his boyish good looks – dark brows and irises, a firm chin, a taut jaw and a mouth that’s full and always smiling. His body is meticulously maintained, muscles thick and prominent without being bulky.

But really, it was his eyes that made me want to fuck him. The way they look at me is slightly disdainful and overtly sexual. I find his gaze to be impertinent and lascivious. Putting him in his place as stud service is worth the effort.

He stands and stretches, perfectly comfortable and confident in his nudity. “I’m going to wash up,” he says, rounding the desk and leaving his office to cross the eerily silent and dark sea of cubicles to my private bathroom.

Is anything quite as disconcerting as a huge space devoid of life and energy?

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