Pleasure Principle: Off The Clock Part 2

The tone of his voice had switched to all business, the emotions packed up tight behind the safety door, padlock clicked. She knew that mode. It was that place she went when her mom had one of her episodes. Like when she'd come home one day a few years ago and all the plates had been smashed because her mom had been fired from another job. Her mom had been sitting among the mess, hands and knees cut from the jagged gla.s.s. Nate had been left at kindergarten because her mom hadn't remembered to pick him up. Marin had been thirteen, but she'd learned that day to switch off the fear and to keep moving forward. She'd bandaged her mom up, called a neighbor to pick up Nate, and had spent the night cleaning the kitchen.

So she knew not to push Donovan for more and went along with the s.h.i.+ft in conversation. She'd run along beside him in those subzero temperatures.

"I might consider it actually. I've really enjoyed digging into your research." And that was the truth. She'd always planned to specialize since she wanted to be a researcher not a practicing clinician. But she'd had yet to find the topic that lit her up. This hadn't just lit her up, it'd set her aflame. s.e.x was fascinating-this strange, foreign thing she wanted to unpack and a.n.a.lyze. And learning from Donovan this week about all the different avenues in the field had deepened her interest even more. When he didn't respond, she s.h.i.+fted and cleared her throat. "So what have you got for me tonight?"

He sank into his chair, moving aside her notes. He wouldn't look at her. "I've been working on a force scenario. Nothing violent, but it's going pretty far in the taboo direction."

"Force?"

He glanced up at her, his eyes clearer than they had been a moment before but still tired. "It's a pretty popular fantasy according to research-capture fantasies, things getting a little rough-especially for women who are held back by having guilty feelings about s.e.x. But it can be a trigger for others, so you need to tell me now if you're uncomfortable with listening to that."

Marin wet her lips, images of Donovan taking charge and taking over filling her head. She could still feel the anger rolling off of him and wondered if he'd come up with the fantasy because that's what he needed right now-a little violence, someone he could exorcise those demons with, a release from all that ugly reality. "I can handle it."

"Okay, cool." He rocked forward in his chair and grabbed a thumb drive. "Remember, I'm looking for unedited feedback. If it sucks or is horrible, you need to tell me. Don't coddle me just because I had a bad day."

"I wouldn't do that."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"So did it work for you?" The question jumped out before she could stop it.

He peered up at that, surprise there at first but then something else flashed in those blue eyes-wariness. "Well, I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I asked." Marin didn't know where her boldness was coming from. Maybe knowing this was her last night with him was making her daring. Or maybe she was still thinking about the alternative he'd suggested to drinking the night away. "You want me to listen to it and tell you what I think. Obviously, I don't want some guy to rape me."

He coughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Sorry, you're right. I'm asking for all this personal honesty from you and you've given it. I'd be an a.s.shole if I'm not willing to do the same." He straightened the papers on his desk. "The scenario worked for me. Rape isn't a turn-on. Obviously. But a woman consenting to playing that game, to letting it get kind of rough? That could be hot."

Marin rolled her lips inward, need curling like vines, tangling with the images in her mind. "Yeah, I bet it would be. Cathartic, even."

His jaw twitched, and he seemed to be thinking hard on her words. For a moment she thought maybe it would happen. Maybe he'd get up, grab her and kiss her, put his hands on her. Maybe he'd let her help him forget for a little while. Help her forget. But then he cleared his throat and rolled his desk chair forward under the desk. "Thanks, Mari."

Any hope she had burned into a pile of ashes at her feet. Of course he wasn't going to stroll across the room and ravage her like some old-school romance novel. He'd confided in her about his family, but that's just because he was hurting and she was there. They were just working on a project together. Friends. h.e.l.l, not even that. She picked up her backpack and hitched it onto her shoulder. "Yeah, no problem."

He rubbed fingers over his forehead. "And I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It was completely out of line."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." She grabbed the thumb drive. "I'll check in with you when I'm done."

Donovan looked up like he was going to say something else, but then seemed to think better of it. He clamped his lips shut and nodded, effectively dismissing her.

She headed down the hallway to the sleep lab on shaky legs. When she reached the lab, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The room was empty and quiet except for the hum of the computers. Tonight there'd be no study partic.i.p.ants on the other side of the gla.s.s, so she'd have the place to herself. She'd never been more thankful for it. She needed time to put herself back together.

She couldn't get it out of her head about what Donovan had gone through. That sadness in his eyes when she'd first walked in. Then the swift heat that had filled her when he'd said, Wanna f.u.c.k? Right then she'd had a feeling that despite the alcohol involved, she was seeing some real part of Donovan, the unrefined part that lurked in there, the part she'd only glimpsed in some of the fantasies he'd recorded. She felt guilty about even having those kinds of feelings when he was going through such a hard thing, but her body seemed to be programmed to respond to him that way.

Marin sank into her chair and rubbed a hand over her brow. After the fight with her mom and the conversation with Donovan, she needed this night in the lab. Predictable. Safe. She could block out all the ugly stuff and just focus on his voice, on escaping into the fantasy. She turned on her terminal, slipped in the thumb drive, and put in her earbuds.

She would listen to Donovan and block out the real world for a while. The tape started.

"You don't see me behind you. I know you know who I am, but you don't know I've been watching you. You don't know how much I think about you, about all the dirty things I want to do to you. You have no idea how badly I need you and no idea that tonight's the night you're going to be mine. I want to hear you beg for your pleasure and for my mercy . . ."

The smooth, deep voice in her ear let everything else melt away. She closed her eyes and let the words take over, sinking into the fantasy and feeling her body go warm and liquid after only a few minutes. The words were explicit, the scene intense. The man captured the woman, tied her down in his hotel room, brought her to the edge of o.r.g.a.s.m over and over and then took her roughly from behind. But there were hints in the narrative that showed the man was taking care of the woman, that she'd consented to this earlier, that this was a taboo fantasy shared by willing lovers.

And it was so working for Marin.

She found herself squeezing her thighs together, the throbbing ache between them almost unbearable. She'd gone through this night after night listening to these tapes, but this one seemed to be pus.h.i.+ng her b.u.t.tons even harder, the taboo topic and danger of it tapping into some reckless part of her. And all the emotion from earlier with Donovan channeled into the fantasy as she pictured him in the role of the man, her in the role of the captive.

Her body thrummed as the scene unfolded in her head, every part of her going sensitive, primed. Like one touch and she'd go off. She tried to stave off the desire, clamping her hands around the arms of the chair and breathing through the rush. But finally, as the man in the tape brought the woman to another o.r.g.a.s.m using harsh fingers and filthy words, Marin couldn't take it anymore and parted her knees. There was so much tension in her-from the c.r.a.ppy day, from her conversation with Donovan, and from this unmet desire she'd been fighting with all week. She couldn't resist anymore. She needed the oblivion, some kind of release from it all. The air of the room felt cool on her inner thighs and she pressed a hand over the throbbing part of her through her shorts, giving just enough pressure to offer some relief.

She let out a soft gasp and slowly rocked her hand against herself, the simple move sending sharp, electric currents racing through her, making everything go heavy and tight. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt fuller, her blood hotter, her pulse louder. Guilt weighed on her. Part of her knew she shouldn't be doing this. She didn't deserve this pleasure tonight. But the freight train was already chugging down the hill with no brakes. She dragged her fingers over the cotton of her shorts, trying to be discreet but not gentle.

Before long, she was so swept up in it and so close to falling over the edge that she didn't hear the knock on her door when it came. She didn't know she was no longer alone, that someone was watching. Then the earbuds were yanked out of her ears.

She nearly leapt out of her seat. Her hand flew away from her shorts and gripped the arm of the chair. The scent of clean soap and whiskey cascaded over her. Donovan.

"Mari?"

3.

Then Marin's fingers went white against the chair arm. Please, please, don't let him have seen what I was doing. The prayer was desperate, yearning. "s.h.i.+t. You scared me half to death."

She couldn't turn around. Not yet. She was afraid the desire would show all over her face. She'd been seconds from o.r.g.a.s.m. Her body screamed in protest, air soughing through her lungs as she tried to reel it all in and look cool and collected.

"I called your name and you didn't hear me." His voice was there again, close, but not on a recording this time. His breath was hot against her hair as he loomed behind her.

"Did you need something?" Her voice came out way too breathless, like rubber bands had been wrapped around her windpipe.

He was quiet for a few long seconds. "Are you . . ."

No. No. No. Her head started to shake.

"Mari . . . I saw." The words were simple. Final. A guillotine.

Hope shattered into little fragments at her feet, raining down into a pool of humiliation. She switched into offense mode.

"Look, I caught you turned on once. Now you caught me. The script works. Hurrah. Make a note. Can we be grown-ups about it now?" She hoped the words sounded confident and brash even though she was trembling inside.

He was silent behind her.

"Did. You. Need. Something?" Her question came out sharp, pointed.

"I was bringing you something to drink. You forgot to take a soda with you."

Be a grown-up, be a grown-up. She forced herself to swivel her chair around, to look unaffected. She took the Dr Pepper from him and set it on the desk. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

His gaze rolled over her, a slow, seeking perusal. Something dark and tense glinted in his eyes. "You didn't get to finish."

"I'm fine," she bit out.

"You're out of breath and . . ." His focus s.h.i.+fted down her body. "And wet."

She glanced down. Saw the telltale spot announcing how turned on she was through the thin cotton of her shorts. Oh, s.h.i.+t. Oh, G.o.d. Oh, f.u.c.k. Mortification like none she'd ever experienced bled through her. Her thighs snapped together. "Can you please not make this worse with your a.n.a.lytics? Just let me be embarra.s.sed in peace."

His blue eyes met hers, the tired resignation from earlier gone and replaced with something she'd never seen before from him-intent. "Let me help."

"What?"

"I made you a promise to keep things professional. I'll keep that promise if you want me to." He reached down and took the hand she'd been using on herself in his. He traced his thumb over her fingertips, setting the sensitive pads on fire. "But I f.u.c.king want you."

Marin's lips parted. He could've punched her in the face and she would've been less shocked.

"This week has been like the slowest, most painful kind of torture." His voice was like a hypnotic song as he held her gaze. "When you drop off the files at the end of the night, you're flushed and gla.s.sy-eyed. I can see how keyed up you are. I can almost scent it in the air." His Adam's apple bobbed. "Do you know what that does to me? Knowing you're turned on by my words? My fantasies? And now to walk in and see you touching yourself over them? f.u.c.k."

Marin was too stunned to speak.

"I get hard every time I think about you."

And she could see that, right there in front of her. That thing between his thighs getting more and more obvious as they spoke. She swallowed, his words and the sight like a lit match to the fuel flowing through her. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." He pulled her up to her feet but didn't break eye contact. "All the fantasies I wrote this week, guess who I was casting in the role in my head? Guess whose face I imagined? Whose body? I can't get you out of my f.u.c.king head."

She had no idea what to say. She could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"But I'm not going to pressure you. I'm just letting you know that if you want my help. If you'd rather it be me getting you off than your fingers, you just need to say the word."

Her head was exploding. Bombs going off. Rockets launching. Everything inside her activating at once. She tried to form some sort of cogent response. But nothing came out.

"So tell me to go away, Mari," he said softly.

She shook her head slowly. Once. Twice.

He stepped closer. "Tell me."

It didn't sound like a request. It sounded like a dare.

That's when she kissed him. She had no idea where the upswell of bravery came from, but she grabbed his face and pressed her mouth to his like she knew what the h.e.l.l she was doing. He stiffened under her touch at first, his whole body going rigid, but then she let her tongue graze his lips-a plea-and he groaned into her mouth, opening to the kiss and grabbing her waist with those long-fingered hands.

The first touch of their tongues was like a lightning strike, loud and powerful and blinding. Her brain buzzed with the impact of it, and she almost lost her rhythm. But then he took control of the kiss with an urgent fervor that made her moan, like he was a dying man and she was the sole owner of the last oxygen on earth. His fingers curled into her sides and his tongue dipped deeper into her mouth, exploring and mapping and tasting. Goose b.u.mps chased tingles over her skin and she pressed herself closer, feeling the heat of his body, the pounding of his heart, the desperation of it all.

She'd imagined this so many times-what'd he'd feel like, what he'd taste like, how'd he kiss. She'd spent hours putting those fantasies together. She hadn't even been close to matching the reality. There was an intensity she couldn't have conjured up in her own mind, this raging need. She half expected their clothes to light up and burn right off of their bodies. Everything was on fire. She couldn't stop. This was like a first taste of a drug, hooking her immediately and making her crave more. Her fingers slid into his hair. That luscious thick hair that she wanted to nuzzle and tug and feel against her naked body.

She made a needy sound, one she didn't even recognize, and the kiss went deeper, lewd in the best way. He yanked her fully against him. His erection notched right along the spot where she'd been touching a few minutes before and sparks skated over her skin. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself shamelessly against him, her body going on some version of erotic autopilot.

He groaned and backed her up against the desk. His mouth attacked her neck, planting hot, wet kisses there, sucking, nipping. "You taste so good. I've wanted . . ."

She tilted her head back, giving him better access and not caring that he didn't finish the sentence. She knew how he felt. She wanted, too.

"Tell me to slow down, baby," he said as he dragged the hard length of himself against her. "It's been a f.u.c.ked-up day and you feel so good. But I don't want to push you too far."

"I don't want to slow down."

He pulled back for a second and took her face in his hands, his gaze fierce. "Tell me it's okay."

"It's okay. It's so okay."

He stared at her for a moment longer and then his hands slid back, his fingers catching in her hair, and he bent and kissed her again. She reached for him, latching on to his s.h.i.+rt like a desperate thing, and pulled him even closer to her. Her body was already revved up, but now she felt as if she would incinerate from the inside out if he didn't touch her soon.

A low rumble escaped him as she grappled for him, and he slid his other hand down her hip while deepening the kiss. Her b.u.t.t was pressed hard against the edge of her desk and when he gripped the back of her thigh, she d.a.m.n near melted into his hold. He lifted her onto the desk, various office supply jetsam going overboard along with the soft drink, and she wrapped her legs around him. His fingers on her bare legs sent another wave of heat rippling over her.

"Donovan." His name was a prayer between kisses. "Donovan. I need . . ."

"I know, baby. I know. Me, too." He kissed her throat. "I'll take care of you."

His hand slid up her s.h.i.+rt, his hot palm finding the curve of her breast. She arched when his thumb grazed her nipple, and she grabbed for the edge of the desk, sending a canister of paper clips tumbling to the floor. "G.o.d."

He made a hungry sound in the back of his throat as he unhooked the front latch on her bra and cupped her naked skin. "Is that what you need, beautiful? I can feel how on edge you are. It's so f.u.c.king s.e.xy. Your whole body is trembling."

She arched her back, a riot of sensations tracking over her. "I've been listening to you talk dirty for the last twenty minutes. The last week. I can't help it."

"Mmm. I love that my voice got you off." He kissed the spot beneath her ear. "And I love that you're wet for me."

It was like one of the fantasies on the recording times about a thousand. His breath against her ear, his hands on her, that silken voice threading through her senses. She let herself slip into the fantasy version of herself, the one who wasn't scared, the one who knew what she wanted and could be bold about it. The one who was not a terrified virgin. "I've wanted this all week." Longer.

The sound he made was one of pained restraint. He leaned back and went for the b.u.t.ton on her shorts. "I was going to take my time with you. I was going to be slow and gentle. But I'm not sure if I have it in me tonight."

"Sounds like one of those failed fantasies from your experiment."

He laughed and dragged the zipper down on her shorts. "You're right. Lose the shorts and spread your legs for me. Let me feel you."

The words ripped over her like an electric current. She lifted her hips and s.h.i.+mmied her shorts down. They fell to the ground among a pile of doc.u.ments and data she'd been entering. Seeing them lying there was surreal. She was on top of her desk in her panties with Donovan West. Maybe she'd fallen asleep in cla.s.s and was going to wake up any minute now.

But when Donovan pushed the thin fabric of her underwear aside and stroked nimble fingers through her slick cleft, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Her dreams had never felt like this, this whole body rush of sensation. She moaned against the touch.

"Jesus, baby, you're soaked." He dragged firm fingertips over her c.l.i.t and she whimpered. "Have you been like this every night you've left me?"

She closed her eyes, embarra.s.sment trying to take over, her cheeks going hot. "Donovan."

"Tell me."

She rolled her lips together and nodded.

"I'm such a stupid, stupid man. I've been keeping myself on a leash when we could've been doing this every night."

He found her entrance and pushed a finger inside. She gasped at the intrusion. She'd done this to herself before, but feeling the rough-tipped, thick finger inside her was an entirely different experience.