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As Acheron's lips parted hers open, it was as if she was surrendering common sense the moment his tongue entered her mouth. All she could do was let her secret wild child half take over...and losing control had never felt so good.

She drowned in his kiss, her arms winding around his neck, and a shameful part of her reveled in her ability to do so. Her body arched close, craving for more of his hardness, and it was bliss to feel him needing her with just as much hunger. It was in the way his mouth devoured hers, the way he seemed to want every inch of her mouth to memorize his taste.

Even though she knew it had only been mere hours since he had last kissed her, it honestly felt like an eternity had passed, and she had suffered the most awful sexual drought since then.

She wanted more, so much more, and she never wanted the kiss to end.

"P-Please..."

The sound of her innocent begging crushed what little control Acheron had left, and he found himself kissing her harder and deeper. He sucked her tongue hungrily, causing her to cry out in the most lusciously arousing way.

It was the fucking sexiest sound he had ever heard, and it had his hands moving down to curve over the cheeks of her ass even as their tongues continued to twine. Her pussy started grinding against his already rigidly throbbing cock, and it was the most exquisite form of torment.

He squeezed her ass hard, and it consequently squeezed a lovely whimper out of her. He felt her fingers on his hair tightening its grip, and it made him think of how her virginal little pussy could do the same to his cock.

Fuck control.

Who needed it when you had the sexiest little thing in your arms?

He was going to take her to the nearest hotel—-

"We've arrived, Mr. Simonides."



















Fourteen

GARETH EVANS CAME OUTof the meeting room in time to see a fairly familiar outline heading down the hallway that led straight to his office. If he weren't mistaken, this woman was none other than the estimable Pippilotta Jones...a.k.a.the highly skilled secretary that a majority of Simonides Incorporated's executives would offer their year-end bonuses to steal under Timothy Collins' nose.

She was a slender little thing, with a conservative taste in clothing that seemed more suitable for women twice her age. Maybe even thrice, considering the rather popular trend for those in their forties and fifties to take the cougar route.

Her posture also made for interesting study: head dipped low, back ramrod straight, and hips that barely swayed. It hinted of pride and submissiveness, a subtle but infinitely heady combination that the average man would have easily overlooked. Gareth might've even gone as far as suspect the woman to be Mr. Collins' mistress if the old man's homosexuality wasn’t one of those open secrets that the whole company knew about but didn't speak of.

Thus begging the question, Gareth thought idly.

After being known to turn down multiple promotions for undisclosed reasons, why had Pippilotta Jones accepted the temporary transfer at his request?

Pippi had barely taken her seat when the door behind her swung open again, and a tall, lean figure came striding in. Blond, blue-eyed, and deeply tanned, he looked like the grown-up, corporate version of Barbie's Ken, and the thought somewhat helped her relax and even manage a brief smile as she rose to her feet and lifted her gaze to her new employer.