His fingers slid along my scalp and pulled me forward until our lips met. He sucked at my bottom lip and nipped at the flesh until I was soft, plump, and swollen. I could have kissed Garrett for hours. He teased me with a slight grind of his hips against mine. The loud moan that escaped my throat surprised me.
Our eyes met, my brown met his glowing ambers with flecks of gold, and he scooped me in his arms as if I weighed nothing. My attraction to his strength shot straight to my core. He never took his eyes off me as he walked us to his bedroom and placed me in the bed.
He reached in the nightstand and pulled out a handful of condoms. I crooked a brow at him.
"I want to lose myself in you," he explained.
I understood what he meant. Sometimes, people needed a distraction to take their minds off the bullshit that life threw their way.
I stroked the rock-hard cock constrained in his trousers. My pussy ached to have him inside of me. I reached for the front panel of his pants, unbuttoned and pulled at the zipper. My hand sought out my favorite muscle. His cock was so thick and long, and I eagerly pumped up and down.
"Don't rush . . . You'll make me come," he growled. "A slow touch. Just like that."
He pulled off his clothing and stood naked before me—no hint of embarrassment or insecurity on his face. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Garrett was a modern-day Adonis, a handsome combination of beauty and strength. Perfectly sculpted arms. Abs so ripped you could do your laundry on him. Then there were the veins and the v-line that lead to his cock, which bobbed wildly as if it had a mind of its own.
Lowering my body to the bed, he hovered over me. Pressing his rigid and firm parts against my soft ones, he rained a mixture of gentle and forceful kisses. The excitement grew in me as he licked at my hardened nipples. Soon, desire slid from my pussy, leaving trails of moisture along my thighs.
God. I was so wet. It wasn't a damn waterfall—a monsoon flowed from me.
"You are so responsive, so wet for me." He pushed a finger inside my drenched canal before pumping in a second, causing me to writhe into the mattress.
Torture was the only way I could describe how he made my pussy pulsate. Delicious yearning mixed with carnal heat and anticipation.
He plucked a condom from the nightstand and began rolling it onto his cock. I thrashed wildly when he grasped my ass and moved in place. Without warning or even a blink, he sank inside of me. We sighed in unison as he bottomed out. Staying still, deep inside of me, he lavished kisses on my lips, face, and neck.
"Mmm. Garrett, move. I need to feel it," I said, gripping his hips to guide in and out movements. My attempts were futile as he refused to move.
"Bossy. Bossy." He chastised, his breath hitched as he struggled. "You're in charge at work, but not here in the bedroom. I'm in charge of the fucking." He snaked an arm around a leg and hitched it over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to sink in deeper until we were pelvis to pelvis. He kissed my ankle, beginning a slow, agonizing rhythm.
"You do that well." I smiled. "For a Michigan boy."
He growled in response and sped up his rhythm. He thrust harder and faster and then harder, relentlessly hitting my special spot over and over until I came. Seconds later, he roared to eruption.
He pulled me into his arms, our breaths slowing to normal. The cool air from the overhead fan chilled my sweat-soaked skin. I shivered a little, and he pulled the covers over us.
"Do you think that karma has her payday? That we have to pay for the bad things we do?" he asked.
"I don't believe that life works that way. Call me naïve, but I believe in redemption and forgiveness. I believe that life allows us to mess up and learn from it."
He kissed my temple and clutched me tighter.
The day after Garrett's suspension started in the war room. The room was quiet, and the mood morose.
"Good morning!" I exclaimed brightly.
The team members grumbled an assortment of greetings. I understood their sadness. With Garrett's absence, an integral part of our team was missing. It was hard to trust management when they make decisions that aren't fair. Especially when those decisions impacted someone we'd grown to like a lot. I worried because the team had worked hard, and I didn't want distrust of management to ruin all the gains we'd made on this project.
I was afraid that our lives would never be the same.
Even though I knew the Dynex leadership team lacked a soul, I should have been better prepared when Nic invited me to her office for an informal talk. Six weeks ago, I would have jumped at the chance to sit and talk with a female CEO. The mentoring and coaching could have been invaluable to my career and life, but I didn't like Nic. She tried to sabotage ER Wallace's work and make us look bad. Then she fucked with Garrett. That earned her a place on my shit list.
The reasons she wanted to meet with me were unfathomable. I thought she wanted to gloat, plain and simple. Or she would record me acting a smartass, then play the recording for Junior. I wouldn't give her what she wanted. I would tamp down the sassiness and keep it cute and professional . . . well, as long as she didn't strike first.
Nic didn't include an agenda in her invitation, so I created one. I pulled out a black leather portfolio and began scribbling topics for discussion, questions, and notes. No matter how many twists and turns she took, I would steer the conversation back to work-related topics and professional advice.
I vowed to control her and our interactions.
Armed with my portfolio filled with questions, I placed a placid smile on my face as I walked the hallways from the conference room to Nic's office. The executive suite was like every other area of the building—modern steel with dark wood and glass windows. Yet, the area stunk of privilege and wealth.
"Ahh, Jasmine Carmichael. How are you? I'll let her know you are here." Nic's assistant was a lovely gray-haired lady named Joyce. She greeted me with a smile, and her nice tone chipped a tiny piece of my steel-clad armor away.
“Good morning, Joyce,” I answered.
Joyce typed on her computer and looked up at me. "Nic will see you now."
I expected to turn the knob and walk in. Instead, Nic opened the office door and waved me inside.
"Jasmine, come on in. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Her smile appeared genuine. So, I let my defenses down a little more.
I stepped into the space and looked around. The furnishings and décor were feminine – floor to ceiling windows along with exposed brick walls. There were three floral bouquets placed around the office. Soft orchestra music played on a wireless speaker system.
"Have a seat." She gestured to an area filled with off-white seating, warm woods, and brass sculptures. On a brass and glass coffee table sat a small tiered tray holding finger sandwiches and mini-desserts.
"I asked Joyce to bring in mid-morning tea. I've not had an informal discussion in here in months, especially with another woman. The boys don't know the difference between Earl Grey and English Breakfast."
"This is lovely." I sat on the sofa and spread a white cloth napkin on my lap.
Like clockwork, Joyce brought in a tray containing a white floral tea service.
Nic's confidence was impressive. Most women in leadership positions hardened themselves to appear stronger and to prove themselves as leaders. Not Nic. She'd worn a fitted navy sheath dress and black open-toed heels. Everything about her, from her softly layered bob hairstyle, her freshly applied makeup, morning tea, to her office décor were unapologetically feminine. She'd worked her way up in a male-dominated world without sacrificing her womanly qualities.