Breaking All the Rules (4 page)

I open my mouth.

She raises her hand, stopping my token protest. “But resist that temptation. If even a hint of scandal is attached to your project, it won’t be awarded funding.”

Selling my body to pay for subcontractors definitely qualifies as a hint of scandal. “Yes, Miss Yen.” I gather the papers and stand. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

“This is a
potential
opportunity. It might not happen.” Miss Yen glances away from me as though she is embarrassed by my gratitude. “And get those expense reports corrected first,” she says gruffly.

I step toward the door.

“And Green?”

“Yes, Miss Yen?” I pause.

“Button up your blazer. I don’t want to see your cleavage again.” My boss turns her attention to her computer screen, dismissing me.

I glance downward. My breasts are one jiggle away from popping out of my corset. I hastily fasten the buttons, the mystery of my sudden popularity solved. A flash of bosom will snag the interest of even the most disapproving male. Nate is proof of that.

I return to my desk, set the application forms aside, and concentrate on the dreaded expense reports. Hours pass as I confirm line item after line item. Every expense, no matter how small, has been claimed by the penny-pinching lawyers. Every project has its own accounting code.

I wonder what Nate is doing and why I’m so obsessed with an unbending executive interested only in a sexual relationship. It’ll be a great sexual relationship if his kisses are an indication of his skills. I touch my puffy lips, tasting him on my tongue. And he has a huge cock. I press my thighs together, imagining him inside me, filling me.

I resist the urge to touch myself. Instead, I take another photo of my breasts, flashing some perky pink nipple, and send the image to Nate. It will be a late night for me. I have the application forms to fill out, the subcontractors to hire, a price list of sexual acts to source. I want Nate to have an equally sleepless night thinking about me.

Chapter Three

T
HE NEXT MORNING
I stand by Blaine Technologies’ revolving doors, waiting as Jerome, my nemesis, searches my backpack. He’s been harassing me for sixteen minutes while he allows more conservative-looking employees to heft car-sized briefcases into the office building.

I don’t care.

Because Nate hasn’t set up another appointment. He hasn’t contacted me. At all. I sigh. He must have filled his quota of quirky and will be returning to his vanilla-sex women. He’ll pay them to touch him, stroke him, please him.

Last night in an attempt to forget about Nate, to forget about the pain in my soul, I focused wholeheartedly on the data donation project, working until three in the morning.

This morning I don’t have that distraction and I’m tired, too tired to think rationally, to process the emotions churning inside me.

“Will you be finishing this search sometime today?” I ask the security guard. The metal table in front of me is littered with the contents of my backpack. One of my screens has been scratched beyond repair.

“You should treat me with respect, Miss Trent.” Jerome’s slimy gaze sweeps my body, lingering on my breasts.

“Or what?” I mumble. “You’ll make my life more miserable than it already is? That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” The security guard peels the top off my plastic lunch container. “What’s this?” He sniffs. “It smells like drugs.”

Great. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, the rent-a-cop finds a new way to torture me.

Jerome licks his index finger and holds it up, his skin gleaming with his saliva. He then sticks his grubby finger into my yellow chicken curry and swirls it around, thoroughly contaminating my lunch.

“Nope, it’s not drugs.” He closes the container and hands my lunch to me. “You’re free to go, Miss Trent.” Jerome smirks. He folds his arms in front of his big belly and watches as I reassemble my bag, making no attempt to help me.

I sling the straps of my backpack over one of my shoulders and trudge toward the elevators, my mood as dark as my suit. My depression is silly. Our relationship, arrangement, whatever Nate and I have, was destined to end. I knew this.

The doors open. My indifferent executive stands in his usual corner, wearing his usual black suit, white shirt, black tie. He gazes at me blankly, his pale gray eyes revealing nothing, his emotions closed to me.

“Miss Trent.” He offers me his normal greeting, the greeting he’s given me for months, acting as though yesterday hadn’t happened, as though nothing has changed.

I want him more than life and he doesn’t care. At all.

“Nate.” I stomp into the elevator and slap my palm against the button for the fifth floor. The doors close and the car jerks into motion.

He says nothing, his expression cold and withdrawn, untouchable.

“Bastard.” I turn my back toward him and watch the red digital numbers change.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.” I tap my shoes against the tile, refusing to look at him. “I greet my enemies with more warmth than you greeted me. You came in my hand, lover boy. I held your cock, heard your groans, smelled your musk.”

“What do you expect from me?” Nate asks quietly. I glance over my shoulder, see the confusion in his eyes.

I shake my head, not buying his act. “I expect you to make an appointment if you say you’ll make an appointment. If you don’t want me anymore I expect you to be a man and tell me.”

“I want you.”

Nate wants me. I should tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. I can’t. Damn him. I burn for his touch, hunger for his lips, want him with every inch of my being. “Then make another freakin’ appointment.”

“I want you now.” He strides forward, waves his passcard over the control-panel sensor, and taps the emergency stop button. The elevator stops. “I can’t wait to have you.”

He has some nerve. I pivot on my heel. “Go to—”

Nate covers my moving lips with his, smothering my curse. My backpack drops to the tiled floor, the thud loud in the silence, and I slam my mouth shut, refusing him access for one heartbeat, clinging to my pride.

My token resistance doesn’t dissuade Nate. He jabs his tongue into the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, bombarding me with a steady persistent assault.

No match for his determination, my emotional walls crumble and I open to him, allowing him inside me. Nate ravishes my mouth with his tongue, thrusting into me again and again, punishing me for my denial. He tastes of the mints he constantly chews, breathtakingly fresh, and I suck on his flesh, grasping his broad shoulders greedily with my hands. His muscles flex under my fingertips, his strength thrilling me.

Nate backs me against a wall, trapping me between hard mirror and harder man, and I swivel my hips, grinding against the ridge in his pants, molding my curves to his muscle. This isn’t enough, not nearly enough, the layers of fabric between us frustrating me.

Nate grasps my left thigh and lifts my leg, hiking my skirt upward. I submit to his dominance, bending my knee, wrapping myself around him. My panties are soaked with my juices, my need for him spiraling upward, an uncontrollable volcano of passion. I rub my scent over his black pants, seeking to claim him as he is claiming me.

“Hot.” Nate drags his mouth along my neck, blazing a trail of sensation across my skin. “You’re so hot, so passionate.” He reaches under my skirt, twists his fingers in my G-string panties, and tugs, tearing the delicate lace. “I need to feel you, feel your heat.”

“Yes.” I reach between us and unzip his pants, freeing him. Skin touches skin. A voice inside me warns that I’m forgetting something, something important, and I hesitate, not knowing what this something could be. This feels right. Nate feels right.

Nate shows no such uncertainty, no hesitation. He pushes against me, flattening me against the wall, and growls into my mouth, the animalistic sound exciting, raw, and real. He has lost control and is no longer my cool calm executive, a man governed by rules and rational thought. He’s a primitive animal intent on mating, on capturing his female.

This can’t be wrong. It’s natural, meant to be, destined. I rub my pussy lips against Nate’s shaft, wetting his skin, needing to be closer to him, to have him inside me. He cups my ass and raises my body higher, holding me over his hard cock. His tip bumps against my clit, setting off a ripple of bliss, and the contact silences my cautionary voice, leaving only a soul-deep need.

I’m desperate for him, for this. “Please.” I clutch his arms, digging my fingertips into the rich fabric of his suit. “Take me.”

Nate meets my gaze, his eyes dark and stormy, as turbulent as my desire. “You’re mine, Camille.” He drives me down on him, impaling me onto inches of unyielding shaft.

I shriek my dismay and struggle to be free. He’s too large, too much, my pussy lips stretched around his girth, pain edging my pleasure.

“Made for me,” Nate grunts, holding me tight, not allowing me to escape. I’m helpless to stop him as he continues his relentless surge upward, into me, his cock head brazing along my pussy walls, his size reshaping my body.

He captures my lips with his, filling my mouth with his tongue as he fills my pussy with his cock, owning me completely. I taste the freshness of his mouth. I feel the bloom of his broad tip, the curve of his shaft, the raised veins on his skin. I inhale his clean scent.

His base presses against me and the invasion temporarily stops. Before I can catch my breath and adjust to his size, he pulls out and slams back inside me. My bare ass slaps against the mirrored wall, the sting causing my pussy to clench around him.

Nate groans into my mouth and repeats the motion, taking me harder. I gasp and cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, linking my ankles over his ass. He rides me against the wall, his urgency feeding mine. Skin smacks against skin. My hips, pussy, and ass burn, heating at the points of contact. My legs tremble.

Nate wrenches his lips away from mine, his chest rising and falling against my breasts. “You feel so good.” He drops his head to my left shoulder, driving into me with a breathtaking force. “So fucking good.”

I’ve never heard Nate drop the f-bomb. This is how far gone he is, how far gone we both are. We’re rutting in the company elevator, uncaring about the security cameras, about our coworkers, about the silly game we’ve been playing.

I look over his shoulder and gaze with awe at our reflections in the mirror. My black heels bounce against Nate’s clenched ass cheeks, his skin golden and perfect, the muscles in his legs flexed and defined. His head is lowered, his face presses against my neck, his blond hair contrasting vividly against my green strands. My face is flushed, my eyes glassy, my kiss-swollen lips parted.

I’ve never seen myself like this before, have never felt this way about a lover, crazed and out of control. And Nate
is
my lover. It doesn’t matter how much he pays me. It won’t change my feelings. I turn my head and suck on his skin, tasting salt and man, my man.

He shudders and fucks me faster, taking me harder, our bodies colliding, smashing together. Each thrust of his hips shreds more of my control. Tremors sweep my body, pushing me closer to fulfillment.

“Come for me, Camille.” Nate drives deep, filling me completely. “Come.” He makes a circular motion with his hips, grinding against my clit.

I scream, shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, sharp shards of pleasure piercing my form. Nate bellows my name and pins me against the wall, shooting hot cum into my battered pussy, his release setting off another wave of bliss. I buck, writhe, twist. He leans his physique into mine, pressing me flat, restraining me with his muscle.

I cease moving, too drained, too satisfied to fight him. The elevator stops spinning around me. My heartbeat slows. Nate holds me against the wall, his cock remaining inside me, the connection between us humming.

“I like this arrangement.” I smile, feeling warm and sleepy and sexually sated, my rough edges smoothed.

Nate raises his head and his eyes widen. “Condoms.”

“What?” I blink.

“We forgot to use condoms.” He lowers my feet to the floor and staggers backward. “I never forget to use condoms.”

Shit. I knew this encounter would come back to bite me in the ass. “I’m clean.” I smooth my skirt down, his essence coating my thighs, his warmth filling me. “And I’m on birth control.”

“Birth-control pills aren’t one hundred percent effective.” He yanks his pants upward and fastens them, his movements sharp and angry. “That’s why I only deal with professionals.” Nate glares at his reflection in the mirrored wall. “They always use condoms.”

They always use condoms. They never kiss. I chew on my bottom lip. “Your sex life must have sucked big time.”

“This isn’t funny.” Nate rakes his fingers through his hair. He’s extremely upset.

“No, this isn’t funny,” I concede. “But this also isn’t your problem. It’s mine. I’ll take care of any possible consequences.”

“You’ll take care of any possible consequences?” He snorts. “I’ve driven by the apartment building you call home. You can’t even take care of yourself.”

I stare at him. My apartment building is situated in a very bad area of town. No one casually drives by it unless he’s armed with semiautomatic weapons.

“I’ll handle this.” Nate releases the emergency stop button and the elevator recommences its ascent, the red digital numbers changing.

I frown. “There might not be anything for you to
handle
.” His jaw juts and I grow alarmed. “Nothing has to be decided now,” I emphasize.

“I want exclusivity.”

“What?” My lips part.

“Until this matter is resolved, no other man will touch you,” Nate states, a possessive gleam in his eyes. “I’ll pay for all of your time.” He pauses. “I want to ensure the child is mine.”

It’s not like him to explain his decisions, and there are other ways to verify a child is his. Nate is an intelligent man. He knows this. I tilt my head. He’s asking for exclusivity because he
wants
to be the only man touching me.