The Superfox (8 page)

“I don't trust villains twice.”

“Then how about doing some research with one? Five minutes, and we'll be laughing about this, I swear.”

And although Lissa was a practical woman and didn't believe a single word out of his lying mouth, she uncurled her fingers from the desk and took his too-warm, too-broad hand and let him lead her down the stupid hall to his stupid office where he was probably going to get her hooked on meth or something equally stupid and horrific. Every step cost her something: pride, anger, comfort. But even the smallest chance was still a chance. There had to be some hope that what she'd heard wasn't as damning as it sounded.

She closed her eyes briefly as he opened his door for her. Once inside, however, she noted that the evidence of their time together had disappeared. Beyond the open door, the photography studio was back to black walls and black floor, the tripod gone. The array of monitors were black, and when he pressed the keyboard, they flickered to life. But instead of sordid pictures of Melissa Martin, stripped and wet and wide open, all she saw was... a gun?

“This isn't comforting,” she muttered.

“This is Dennihy's antique percussion dueling pistol. Civil War era. A real collector's piece. It's worth at least five figures, and he's selling it because even though he's supposedly an accountant, he sucks with money. Which is why the douchebag offered me a thousand dollars to take some high-quality images for the online auction. I couldn't do it during normal office hours because, you know, it's a weapon. So I figured the snowstorm was a good chance to get it done and get him off my back.”

Lissa stared at the gun, presented on three screens. The photos were beautiful, just like Mark had said on the phone. And she knew well enough that weapons were often referred to as women. She wanted so, so badly to believe him. She needed to believe that he was still the guy who'd taken her sledding on a Captain American shield.

As if sensing that her wall was cracking, Mark held up an SD card. “Whereas this is the card from earlier. Why don't you take it back to your office and check it out? Then see if you believe me.”

Lissa held out her hand, and he dropped the card onto her palm. She stared at it, such a little, quotidian thing. “Why should I look at it? That won't prove anything.”

Mark blushed, which looked gorgeous against his pale skin and freckles. “I think it will. I took a peek. It's telling. If you're still interested in talking to me after looking at the images, I'll be here. The offer for grilled cheese still stands.” Lissa looked down and nodded, and he added, “And for the record, I think Dennihy is the biggest bag of dicks I've ever met.”

Overcome with warring feelings, Lissa gave him half a smile and hurried back to her office with the card cradled in her hand like a hurt bird. She didn't dare review the images on her office desktop, so she pulled out her personal laptop and opened the file named “Wonderful”.

And... she'd never seen anything like it. All those photos he'd taken at first had been just clicks behind her closed eyes, and she expected to see close ups of her breasts, her panties, her open legs. But again and again, it was her face. Shy and a little scared at first. Then warming and sweet, eyes open and suffused with trust and lust in equal measures. And then closed again, lost in abandon, her mouth open sensually with red lipstick smeared around the edges. Her peaches and cream skin was flushed, her dark lashes swept down and her hair beautifully mussed. There wasn't a single picture of anything but her face, even though she knew what he had been doing, all along, and how very much he could've captured with his camera.

When he'd said he wanted to see her bared wide, he hadn't meant her legs at all.

He'd meant her soul, and he'd damned well captured it.

After the images was a video titled “Wonderfuller”, and she smiled a little as she clicked it and wiped away a tear of relief.

Even if he'd been trying to sell those photos, no one would've paid for them unless their sole care was her pleasure and joy.

Mark really was Thor.

With a dash of Captain America thrown in.

After about thirty seconds of watching the video, she began to realize the dastardly danger of going commando. Pausing it and shifting around to squash down the blooming desire in her jeans, she swallowed hard and realized that she knew exactly how to get her revenge.

But she was going to need Mark's help.

***

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lissa?”

Melissa dragged a finger down Mark's lips, along his throat, and ended by poking him in the chest. “Shut your pie hole and open the door, Jarvis.”

Mark shrugged and grinned at her. “Your system of morals is strangely flexible, Wonder Woman.” He turned the latch and held the door open for her.

Lissa smirked. “If you're a mix of Loki and Thor, I'm more like Wonder Woman and Tony Stark. And right now, I'm feeling more Stark.”

The office was dark, but Lissa knew her way to the green lamp on the desk. She flicked it on and ran a fingertip through the granola crumbs on the keyboard.

Mark inclined his head toward a small safe on top of a file cabinet. “That's where he keeps the pistol. Dr. Horne has no idea. It's supposed to be just for petty cash.”

Sitting in the big, cushy chair and leaning back, Lissa kicked her bare feet up on the heavy desk's blotter. “I told Dr. Horne that Dennihy was a dishonest bastard, but he wouldn't fire him. Just gave him a slap on the wrist and a bad review. Found out later Dennihy is his brother-in-law, and his salary is what keeps their family afloat. Dr. Horne apologized, and I've never had to interact with the slimeball again, but it's never sat right, that he could blatantly break the HR rules and just ooze his way out of it.”

“Business is a bitch, and anybody who's met him knows Dennihy's a dick. I guess that's why I was glad to take his money. I had no idea he'd done that to you, or I would've slammed the door in his face. But enough about him.” Mark came up behind her and put his hands on the headrest of the chair, pushing it down so that she was looking up at him, practically on her back. “If you're serious about this... give me some sugar, baby.”

Lissa grinned and grabbed his face, kissing him upside down while splayed out in her enemy's throne. It started out sweet, a reintroduction, but quickly grew in heat and urgency. Lissa let go of Mark and broke the kiss, mainly because from upside down, she couldn't touch him or pull him close.

“That was like kissing Spider Man mixed with Ash,” she said, breathless.

“I contain multitudes. Of superheroes.”

Mark let go of the chair, and it bounced back up, leaving Lissa lightheaded and upright. She stood and spun, putting her butt on the blotter and kicking the chair out of the way.

“I'm down with multiples. Bring me your boomstick.”

Mark stepped up, matching his hips to hers. “I'll ask again: you sure you want to do this?”

Lissa grinned. “Why the hell not? Revenge is a dish best served cold and splattered with bodily fluids. And that video was hot.”

As she looked up at him, her heart pounding in anticipation, she couldn't help remembering what she'd watched of the video of them, together. It had been sweet and pretty and... revealing. In the way he'd watched her, smiled at her, gently moved her, anticipated her needs, and put her pleasure ahead of his own... well, she'd never had anyone read her so well, nor even try to. She'd been so caught in the moment, so lost behind closed eyelids or trapped in his gaze that she hadn't stopped to consider how very rare an event it was, to be taken care of like that. And it had been hot as hell, watching herself within his power, hearing the little noises she made and the primal groans and
mmm
sounds he made in return.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

Mark's face was soft and hungry as he caressed her cheek and looked deep into her eyes.

“I'm done waiting.”

This time, she was the one who reached for him and pulled him down, dipping her tongue into his mouth and running her fingers through his hair. She hopped up on the desk and pulled him into the V of her legs, running her bare feet up and down his calves as she thrust and twirled her tongue between his lips. As much as she'd enjoyed everything they'd done, Lissa couldn't help the lure of being in control, doing exactly what she wanted and touching him with no restraint. Holding Mark here, taking her time with him, made her feel so powerful.

Hell, maybe next time,
she'd
put
him
in the cuffs.

Because there was going to be a next time, she told herself. There had to be. She wasn't ready to go back to where she'd been, before the blizzard, a lonely, type-A workaholic who sacrificed her happiness for the next deadline. She wasn't the same girl she'd been before she wandered into his office, before that first decisive snap of his iPad case, when he'd focused on her with the full force of his attention. Knowing that he hated Dennihy as much as she did made her feel like she had an ally, like she wasn't fighting the fight alone. Those few moments of drama, when she'd thought he'd betrayed her had been possibly the worst minutes of her life.

And if he kept kissing her like this, she was well on her way to the best ones.

Mark was plastered against her, his erection hot against her belly through his kilt. Poor guy had to be missing the relative safety and comfort of his Batman boxers, and the kilt's wool wasn't doing him any favors in regards to hiding his feelings. Or his stamina. His hands were braced on the desk, the chair had tumbled over backward, and Alyssa wished to hell she owned more dresses, because the seam of her jeans was already soaked and she didn't want to wait one more second to feel him battering into her again.

She broke the kiss to murmur, “We don't have any condoms, do we?”

Mark reached into a pocket in his kilt and drew out a foil square. “That's why they call them utility kilts. They're terribly useful.”

“My hero.”

She pulled him back and plunged her tongue into his mouth as he ripped open the packet. She'd never been ready so quickly before, never considered how very turned on she could be, but she couldn't help it. He was like Chinese food; no matter how much she devoured, she was hungry for more in an hour. And he was a helluva multitasker, considering how he could put on a condom and never lessen the onslaught of his tongue in her mouth, alternately aggressive and teasing. Lissa moaned and stood, slipping off her jeans and shoving back the desk blotter in a rain of papers. The desk glass was cold against her bare ass, and with Dennihy's door open and two walls made entirely of windows with open blinds, she felt utterly wanton and open and ready. It was dark, and with the lights on, anyone outside would see every single movement within.

And she didn't give a sweet goddamn.

If someone was unlucky enough to be caught in the blizzard outside, let them look. Maybe it would warm them up.

Mark's fingers drew her back to the present as he undid the belt to drop his kilt, then slid hurried hands under her shirt to skim it off over her head, quickly followed by his own. Outside of his boots and her bra, they were completely naked, and the man was a goddamn sight to behold, his skin pale and sprinkled with freckles across his shoulders, a figure drawn in hard lines of muscle and bone. His hair was pulled back to show his cheekbones and stubble, and Lissa drew in a breath, truly feeling like he was a demi-god she'd found in a desert.

“God, you're beautiful,” he said, a warmth shining in his eyes as he smoothed her bangs aside and cupped her face. “Like a China doll of an Amazon. Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

Lissa knew the quote well. “She was a vixen when we were about to screw on the accountant's desk,” she agreed.

Mark chuckled and kissed her softly. “Do you know how rare it is that a woman can quote The Avengers and Shakespeare? I'm beginning to think you engineered this entire snowstorm just to ensnare me.”

She shook her head. “I thought I was alone here.”

“Me, too.”

“I don't usually like being wrong, but...”

She reached for him and curled her fingers around his length, gently squeezing as she moved her hand up and down.

“Please. Be my guest. Let's get wronger,” he said.

Before he could speak again, she guided him to her cleft and spread her legs wider to accommodate him. Condoms were damned awkward things, but it really didn't matter as much when she was this wet and bothered. They both looked down to watch as he pushed into her, inch by inch, all the way until they were completely joined. Lissa felt full and hot and anxious for more speed and passion, but she'd never watched so unashamedly as a man took her, and it made her breath speed up and her nipples ache for his touch. He thought she was beautiful, but he was gorgeous himself, right down to the auburn hair that drew a line down his chest and directly to his cock.

Lissa looked up, and Mark looked directly into her eyes as he pulled out and thrust back in. Her butt scooted on the glass, and she leaned back on her elbows to give him a better angle. Neither of them blinked as he caught her hips and pulled her into him, again and again. He was hitting new spots this time, going in deeper, and Lissa couldn't look away. It was possibly the most intimate moment of her life, and it didn't escape her that she'd completely forgotten the revenge aspect and was just getting off on the forbidden nature of what they were doing, here in the office.

She'd always wanted to have sex on a desk.

Which gave her an idea.

Lissa licked her lips. “What if I told you I'd been a very naughty secretary?”

“Then I'd say your boss was a lucky man.”

“That's sexist.”

He slammed into her hard, making her moan.

“You're right.”

Slam
.

“But that boss should definitely punish you,” he finished.

“And how should he or she do that?”

Slam
.

Lissa moaned as his cock stroked her deep inside, her knees automatically jerking up to give him better access. Right on cue, Mark pulled open a drawer and rummaged around until he pulled out a wooden ruler.