Maliciously Obedient Part 16

So much for the slow unfolding.

Mike's strong arms picked her up almost effortlessly and laid her down on the warm bed, pouring himself next to her and looking into her eyes with a little smile. He inventoried her curves with eyes and hands that seemed to make a map of her body in his mind, c.o.c.k leaping as she sighed when he brushed her mons. So open, so free a so bold, his willingness to look and explore made her momentarily self-conscious, but the desire in his eyes wiped all that away. He kissed her ear, jaw, neck and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, lingering there for some time, the feeling almost unbearably good and triggering a clenched build-up in her c.l.i.t that screamed for release, until he seemed to remember himself and his mouth and tongue resumed their progress down her stomach and straight into her womanhood.

Where she needed him most.

She moaned with pleasure and grat.i.tude, her hands finding his shoulders and neck and hair as he roamed her body, caressing her hips, thighs, stomach and the s.p.a.ce between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, a valley of goodness and pa.s.sion. He sighed deeply, the sound telling her that he was not just giving pleasure to her body, but also receiving almost as much pleasure from it. If such a thing were possible.

Until this moment it had always only been her body. But now it was also his, and she wanted him to do with it- Wait, what was that sound? The doork.n.o.b turned and slowly opened, revealing Jeremy, who stood there openly looking at them, a broad grin on his face. Tousled brown waves and intense brown eyes lasered in on the two nude bodies, entwined in each other and the bed clothes, a vulnerable, private sight. He removed his s.h.i.+rt and pants, rus.h.i.+ng to join their naked state, tall and lean and ready for anything. She caught a glimpse of his dimpled a.s.s and practically swooned, her juices flowing into the mouth of Mike, who was not objecting and had simply resumed going down on her as if his friend's presence were the norm.

Words and action escaped her as she melted into Mike's mouth and Jeremy's hands started stroking her from behind. She imagined both of them making love to her at the same time and she almost came right on the spot, nearly pushed over the edge by the lush precision and timing of Mike's tongue flicking back and forth over her nub as Jeremy's mouth covered her breast and his hand stroked her a.s.s.

Mike continued loving her c.l.i.t, driving her crazy, tongue lightly playing against her now and bringing her ever closer to the edge. She could smell them both and also herself, one hand in Jeremy's hair as he licked her breast, the other in Mike's hair as he savored her p.u.s.s.y. There were two beautiful men loving her body and it was too much, way more than one woman could withstand, but still she wanted more and more.

And more.

Now Mike moved up to kiss her and she could taste herself again. Jeremy's hand slid down to her c.l.i.t and she thrust her hips hungrily forward to meet it. He started licking her ear, Mike pinching her nipple with his fingers and Jeremy's hand stroking her hair. Both men were reaching down to her p.u.s.s.y with their long arms and she could no longer tell whose fingers were inside her and whose were teasing her c.l.i.t. "Oh, my G.o.d, don't stop," she moaned.

Jeremy looked down at her. "You're so beautiful," he said.

Mike stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you."

"We both have."

Lydia could feel tears streaming down her face. "How can this be?"

The two men exchanged a puzzled glance, and Mike said, "How could it not be?"

It seemed to Lydia that she was smiling with her entire body. She reached down and took one of their c.o.c.ks in each of her hands, pulling Jeremy's close to her mouth so that she could taste him. Mike was rock-hard in her other hand and she stroked him slowly and gently until a slippery drop of pre-c.u.m oozed out onto the palm of her hand. She could really taste Jeremy's c.o.c.k now as the head seemed to be swelling even larger inside her mouth. He gasped and she could tell he was about to...

Suddenly he pulled out. "No, not yet, I want to be in you."

Sweet, perfect words of anguished need a because she very much wanted Jeremy inside her. She wanted both of them inside her. Lydia put her hands on Mike's shoulders and pushed him down on his back, straddling him a Beep beep beep! What the f.u.c.k? Hazy and stoked, Lydia pawed her nightstand in search of the d.a.m.n phone. c.l.i.t on fire and twitching a twitching! a she awoke to find herself in a small patch of wetness.

What the f.u.c.k?

A dream had made her come in her sleep? The wetness wasn't pee a she knew that. Only once, in college, had this happened, after an intense night of partying and her first (and only) one-night stand with a guy who loved p.u.s.s.y so much he ate her out for half an hour, bringing o.r.g.a.s.m after o.r.g.a.s.m after o.r.g.a.s.m. The next night, her fantasies had spread into her unconscious, apparently, because she had awoken exactly like this, hips thrusting against a ghost lover and bed slightly wet from her juices.

But this? A threesome dream with Matt's friend Jeremy?

And Michael Bournham, of all people?

Slamming her head back against the pillow, she s.h.i.+fted her legs to take the stinging, tickling pressure off her poor, maligned c.l.i.t, which popped like a Mexican jumping bean, nerves on autopilot.

If she were going to have a s.e.x dream about anyone, it should be Matt a right? Between the supply closet, the elevator, and the nightclub she was about as frustrated and needy as anyone could get, confused and struggling with her feelings for him.

How on earth did that come out in her subconscious as a threesome with Michael Bournham and Jeremy?

Grabbing her pillow, she screamed into it, the m.u.f.fled vibrations not enough release to get out how weird this all was.

Coffee and a shower would have to do.

At least she could check m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e off her list of things to do today.

Overachiever.

By the time she'd sucked down a cup of coffee and finished with a quick rinse, she knew the day would be fine. Absent-mindedly drying her hair, she thought through the day's events. Facing Matt wouldn't be that horrible a at least she hadn't dreamed about him between her legs.

Every other man she'd met for ten minutes or less a but not Matt.

Bzzzz.

"Who calls at 6:20 a.m.?" Lydia wondered, turning the hair dryer off as she watched her mobile phone vibrate across the bathroom counter, lighting up. Every night as she brushed her teeth she plugged it in here, the easiest, most reliable location in her apartment. Every other flat surface was covered with books or a computer, so the bathroom it was.

The number wasn't one she recognized, so she ignored it. Turning the hair dryer back on, she closed her eyes and combed through her damp hair with her fingers, willing it to dry faster. She had to hop on the train today and couldn't miss the 7:07.

She was putting on her makeup a few minutes later when it rang again. Same number. Hmm. Might as well pick it up, she thought. Maybe one of her brothers changed their cell number and something was wrong with her mom or dad.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi. So about those travel arrangements." Oh, that voice. Oh, how that voice triggered so many involuntary physical reactions that she absolutely, utterly did not want to have at this moment at 6:20 in the morning when she was on her way to work and would face him within the next two hours. It wasn't that she was afraid to face him and it wasn't that she dreaded the consequences of what she'd done with his travel, it was that she increasingly couldn't trust herself when she was anywhere near him.

Dreams notwithstanding.

Being on the phone didn't involve physical proximity but dammit, from the way her throat tightened, how blood flooded inappropriate places that had nothing to do with professionalism in the workplace, and how she could feel herself needing to control her breath a his d.a.m.n voice just drove her l.u.s.tfully mad.

Those handful of words already had her off her game and set the tone for something she knew would s.h.i.+ft her entire relations.h.i.+p to her job and to herself.

"How's, uh...lovely Detroit there? You having fun in Motown?" She kept her voice as light as possible because if she didn't she'd end up talking to him in a sultry, s.e.xy tone that would systematically destroy every shred of feminist belief that she had held for most of her life.

"Detroit was...interesting," his voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. and she felt her abs curl in, her body go on alert, the steady warmth that had begun to spread turning into a sudden, shattering tingle.

"Interesting. Glad to hear it. You're there for a couple days, right?"

"No, actually I'm back in Boston."

"That was fast. How did you manage that?"

"I have my ways." Oh, this conversation was not going well. What had she done? She thought it would be funny, really, to pick the seediest part of Detroit, the cheapest possible ways of booking his trip, and had done so with great gusto, from declining to add car insurance to his rental car to picking the tiniest, cheapest option available, to choosing some motel that a who knew why a only cost $39.95 a night. What had he experienced? She knew that this was going to be something she would pay for, but hey a Matt was the one who said that they needed to economize so if anybody was going to pay for anything, it needed to be as cheap as possible, right?

His teeth were gritted; she could hear it in his voice as he said, "I saw some lovely sights in Detroit. Let's just say I got the insider's tour and was able to spend a not inconsiderable amount of time among real Detroit-ers. I gained a healthy appreciation for government in the Motor City."

What the h.e.l.l did that mean? "Matt," she said, clearing her throat, trying to work the nervousness out of her voice. Keep it professional Lydia, she told herself. "I was very careful in booking your travel. I looked up the rental car company, the airline, and the hotel on major social media sites and found that they met the criteria you laid out for me."

"I can hear what you're stepping in there, Lydia," he responded.

Silence. "What do you mean?" she asked, not just playing dumb on purpose at this point. She was genuinely perplexed and wondered why he seemed so angry, and yet cagey. He wasn't telling her what had happened or why he was calling her at 6:20 in the morning at home. Dave never called her at home, ever. There's no such thing as an emergency for an administrative a.s.sistant. That kind of c.r.a.p might happen at the executive level, but this? This was invading her personal life on a level that wasn't fair.

A call at home should have come with an invitation for a date attached.

Not a reprimand.

"You booked me in coach, first of all."

"Yes, the tickets were only $217. Isn't that fabulous for our budget?"

"I flew Boston to Minneapolis to Dallas to Detroit, for f.u.c.k's sake."

"Oh. Too many legs?" She bit her cheek to stop from laughing.

"I sat in someone else's body fluids for the entire first leg of the trip. They nearly threw me off of the plane when I put up a fuss."

"Why would you sit in someone else's body fluids?" Silence.

"Why would you book me on a plane that would involve my sitting in body fluids?"

The man was impossible. "We could go around in circles on this one but I don't see how it's my fault that someone might have bled, peed, uh...something more intimate on your seat. Why didn't you didn't just change seats or catch another flight?"

A ragged sigh was his response. A simmer started to bubble over in her. Bournham Industries had a very tight policy about how much money could be allocated to each section of the trip itself, from a per diem for your breakfast right down to the amount of a taxicab they would cover. She didn't feel like going into all the specifics with him, but if he pushed her, she certainly would. She could administrate him to death verbally if that's what this was going to take, but none of this was her fault.

The glee she felt, though, was all hers to enjoy. Following the rules had paid off in its own sneaky little way.

"And then there's the car."

"Yes. I got a great deal on a nice, local place."

"It was the size of a coffin on wheels," he barked.

"Really? You've been in a coffin before?" Keeping her voice chipper was the hardest part.

"Lydia." That voice, again, as if he were correcting a naughty girl. She decided to throw it right back at him.

"Matt." She could hear his breathing intensify on the phone. What was the point of all of this, she wondered. Why was he calling? They'd be at work in an hour and a half. "I trust you got great mileage efficiency on that car, thus saving our department even more money on gas and commuting costs for you during your trip."

Officious. Officious, officious, officious. She was going to play her game, not his. She checked her mascara in the mirror, putting her phone on speaker.

"Did you just put me on speaker?" he asked.

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"Is someone else in the room?" An accusation, tinged by worry, came through loud and clear. What if there was? What if she'd gone to a bar and picked up a guy or two (Jeremy and Michael Bournham) and had them here at home still? Applying a thin line of eye liner, she paused a few beats before answering.

"No." Why should you care? she thought. But he did. And it thrilled her much more than she wished it did. Blusher seemed redundant a her face burned, pink and eager, as she checked herself out in the mirror.

"Okay." Dammit. She had just given him information about herself. Now he knew she lived alone, or was he fis.h.i.+ng? Was that just a question? She was way, way, way out of her element. And why was he grilling her about the trip.

"And let's talk about the hotel."

"Yes! An Emba.s.sy Suites for only $39.95."

"Did you check the spelling of Emba.s.sy Suites? They spell it S-W-E-E-T-S."

Suppressed snicker. "It got perfectly fine reviews on travel social media sites and it was the lowest priced hotel in the entire metro-Detroit area."

"That doesn't come as a surprise," he said dryly.

"One of the reasons I picked it," she said, disingenuous with great intent, "was that it said a I don't remember the exact wording but something about the place a that 'Suns.h.i.+ne brought a smile to his face'. Isn't that fabulous? I thought 'that's the place for Matt' when he goes on his travels. Saves Bournham Industries money, close to the client and lots of suns.h.i.+ne."

"Suns.h.i.+ne is the name of the local prost.i.tute."

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "I see." Lowering her voice, she said in a whisper, "You know you can't bill that cost to your expense account, right?"

Click. Motherf.u.c.ker! Did he just hang up on her? No way. Who the h.e.l.l did he think he was? Mister alpha male strutting his stuff, ordering her around, calling her at home, invading her personal life and a ugh! Lydia just couldn't get her swirling mess of emotions about him to calm down long enough to figure out whether he p.i.s.sed her off or turned her on a Or both.

She had clearly hit a nerve, though, because whatever had happened on that trip had happened as a result of following what he told her to the absolute letter of the law. The entire two-night business trip cost less than $400. Some bean counter in accounting was going to be overjoyed at coming about $750 under the allocated travel expense budget.

Michael Bournham should be pleased, right?

She suppressed a sly smile and then realized she didn't have to; she was alone and let her face spread with a giant grin, the woman in the mirror closer to the Lydia she'd been a few days ago. She missed that Lydia. The go-getter. The one who busted her a.s.s to try to prove herself, not just for the sake of proving herself, but because it was the right thing to do.

Because it was an internal drive that pushed her to new places.

Like threesome dreams.

When he got to the part about Suns.h.i.+ne, Jeremy was laughing. By the time he described Bernie, that man was prostrate on the ground, face-up, like a turtle on meth. The piece de resistance with Mike describing the feeling of being pressed against the hood of a sprite can, his face smashed in a b.u.m's urine, stopped Jeremy's laugh cold.

He looked up and said, "The exact same thing happened to me in Bangkok once."

"I can't one up you on anything, can I?"

"You're about to be a billionaire, so I have to give you that."

Mike grinned. "Yeah, I am. As long as I get this reality television thing out of the way and then I can focus." Once again, Jeremy had surprised him in the office, but by now his presence seemed accepted. Matt Jones had a friend, and it gave him some street cred. Made him more human. No connection between Michael Bournham and Jeremy had been detected, so the triable of Mike to Matt to Jeremy wasn't a concern.

"Lydia did that to you? She really bested you?" Jeremy seemed pleased. A little too pleased. There was a puckish quality to Jeremy, an impish, almost childlike att.i.tude that practical jokes, goofy scenarios, and embarra.s.sment were the highest art form. Especially when Mike was the victim. It wasn't malicious and never mean-spirited a just good clean fun that Jeremy enjoyed. He was a great fan of Judd Apatow movies and the old 90's film, Dumb and Dumber, was for Jeremy, celebrated the way people considered Fellini a master. For him, it was the Farrelly brothers.

As Mike described his slimy, seedy, horrific experience in Detroit, complete with Dom rescuing him, and later stopping at a drugstore so he could buy lice shampoo, Jeremy practically clapped and begged for Mike to describe Suns.h.i.+ne once more.

"Suns.h.i.+ne? Her name is Suns.h.i.+ne?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "She was quite a ray of something."

"And you were arrested because...?"

"That's the part that I don't understand, but when your face is smashed in a b.u.m's urine by Detroit's finest, you don't ask questions. Dom saved me. Good old Dom." Mike had sent Dom to rescue Jeremy a few times, mostly from bars in the college zone where Jeremy targeted barely legal women. If there was a Mardi Gras celebration, a gay pride parade celebration a a party of any kind a you'd find Jeremy at the heart of it, the guy drunk and covered in vomit the next day. Sort of a cross between Charlie from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Otter from Animal House, Jeremy was Mr. Fun to Mike's Mr. Decent. How in the everloving h.e.l.l Jeremy managed to pull off a combo of those two mystified Mike.

But he'd been a hard worker a smart, suave, extremely a.n.a.lytical, and just a little bit unpredictably whacked. When they'd cashed out their stock from the sale of the start-up a and who knew writing reviews about local businesses would turn out to be a multi-billion dollar set up? a leaving hundreds of millionaires of the original post-college, lean and mean founding staff, Jeremy had taken to a life of fun while Mike had taken to a life of sticking his nose to the grindstone.

Right now Mike was down to the skullbone while Jeremy's nose was intact, always on the hunt for p.u.s.s.y.