Revenge Sex by Jasmine Haynes Page A

when she’d told him what Ruby had done on his
desk. He’d been close to losing control out there in the hall. She
should never have followed him to his office. He wasn’t sure he’d
let her go even if she tried to leave.
    “Tell me,” he begged. It wasn’t like this
with Ruby. It was visceral, uncontrollable.
    Then Jessica gave him what he craved. “He
pulled my pants down and put his hand between my legs.” Her breath
came faster, her breasts rising and falling beneath the tight
jogging T-shirt. “I was already wet because I’d been dreaming about
you all night.”
    The moisture the man touched belonged to him.
It was for him.
    “Then he went down on his knees and licked my
pussy.”
    Jesus, he could almost taste it, smell it,
and he wanted, needed. He told himself he wouldn’t touch her, that
he only wanted the story, while another part of his mind laughed at
his naïveté. You’re such a fucking liar. “How did it
feel?”
    She closed her eyes, tipped her head back.
“God, it was so good.”
    The office door was open. Anyone could drop
by to catch up on a little work. And he was about to break his own
rules. No sex in the office, no sex with coworker, especially not
someone who worked for him. It was wrong. It was stupid. But he
didn’t give a damn.
    “Then I begged him to fuck me,” she went on,
capturing him completely. “He lets me pretend that he’s you. I call
him Mr. Blackwell and he calls me Miss Murphy, like in the old
black and white movies. It’s sexy.”
    She made it fucking sexy for him, too. Could
she possibly know what she did to him?
    “He did me like that, bent over the desk,
fucking me so hard and good, I could have cried.” Her skin was
flushed pink with arousal, her pupils wide, her nipples tight
against her sport bra.
    He wanted to touch her. He fucking ached to touch her.
    He didn’t know who stepped closer, her, him,
but her breasts brushed him as she whispered, “He came on me. I
rubbed it in and sucked him clean.” Then she delivered the coup de
grace. “Do you want to taste him on me?”
    “Fuck, yes.” His voice sounded choked even to
him.
    She stepped back, closed the door, then
leaned against it. “He’s tall like you, and he loves to fuck me up
against a door or a wall.”
    Clay couldn’t wait another moment to put his
hands on her. He hauled her up by the armpits, and she wrapped her
legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. His hard cock rode
her warm, wet center.
    Then he tasted her the way he’d been dying
to.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
    He feasted on her as if she were a delicacy
he’d couldn’t get enough of. His taste was better than she could
have imagined, coffee and mint and male. Between her legs, his cock
pressed hard, insistent. His hands were all over her, holding her
ass, sliding up her torso, pinching her nipple.
    She backed off to whisper against his lips,
“Can you taste him?”
    “Christ yes.” Then he tasted some more.
    She tightened her arms around his neck and
rocked against him. But she couldn’t stop talking. He needed the
talk. She didn’t want him to think about Ruby. “I ask, ‘Mr.
Blackwell, do you want to fuck me?’ And he says, ‘God, Miss Murphy,
I need you to suck my cock.’”
    He groaned. “Fuck.” He squeezed her ass and
pushed her hard against the door, sliding against her through the
thin fabric of her jogging pants.
    “I want you to pull off my clothes and lick
me. I want you to taste him. He came on me. I want you down
there.”
    He yanked her away from the door and, her
legs still wrapped around him, he carried her to the conference
table. “I want you.”
    He didn’t say he wanted to taste another man
on her, but that he wanted her . Her heart began to beat
harder in her chest.
    Pushing her to her back on the table, he made
faster work of the leggings than Vince had, but he didn’t remove
her panties. Leaning over her, eyes locked, he slid his fingers
over the damp crotch. They were plain