The Design(46)

“Where to?” Grayson asked as the car roared to life.

I turned toward the window and spoke with feigned confidence. “Somewhere close and secluded.”

A second later we were blazing down the boulevard, weaving in between cars and gunning it through yellow lights. My body pressed back against the leather as he pushed the gas pedal down harder. I studied the veins on his hands as he gripped the steering wheel with utter control.

We didn’t drive for long, a few minutes at most and then we were pulling off the road into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse.

“Unbuckle your belt,” Grayson demanded as he swung the car into a spot behind the building.

Adrenaline was getting the better of me. I didn’t hesitate and as soon as I was free, he killed the engine and I slid over onto his lap. My high heels fell off in the transition and my head hit the roof with a thud. The space was too tight, but we worked together so that I could straddle his hips comfortably. This is happening. He was already working to push the hem of my skirt up to my waist. The thin fabric ripped, echoing our actions throughout the interior of the car.

“Grayson,” I whispered as his hand hit the inside of my thigh.

Last night wasn’t the end.

I couldn’t move in the confined space. If I leaned back I’d honk the horn, so I leaned against him, letting my head fall to his shoulder and my lips press against his neck. My breath faltered as his fingers slid higher, our devious actions starting to become harder to fathom.

“Unzip my pants, Cammie,” Grayson demanded with a rough voice.

Our bodies were sealed together, so I had to slide my hand down between us, feeling my own soft curves against his hard chest. My hand skimmed over my breast and my back arched in response. Grayson groaned beneath me, clearly enjoying the way I pressed down against him as my back arched further.

“Now, Cammie,” Grayson urged, digging his fingers into the back of my thigh in a painful show of power.

I bit down on my lip, stifling a cry.

His zipper was easy to find and even easier to slide down.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he said as he drew his fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his tongue while he waited for me to follow his instructions.

I did what he asked, feeling the cool air against my sensitive skin. And then he was there, dipping his fingers inside of me and dragging me down further into my fantasy.

“Let yourself slide down,” he begged into my ear as my eyes rolled back.

This was it. This was the top of the ride. The ascent was over and the impending plunge would ruin me for life. I knew all of that, and still there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as I gripped his shoulders and let my thighs relax. He watched me with rapt attention as I slid down millimeter by millimeter.

“Fuck,” he moaned as I felt his fingers press against my sweetest spot.

“This is crazy,” I gasped, letting my head fall back.

His free hand wrapped around my neck as he kissed down to my collarbone.

“I want you to come like this,” he demanded, taking the reins back into his own hands.

I stared up at the ceiling and begged for more. We thrived off the intensity of the moment, the exhilaration of tugged hair and clawed arms and kissed lips. His rhythm stole my resolve again and again until the windows fogged up, I’d accidentally honked the horn twice, and I’d bruised my elbow on the car console more times than I could count.

The entire experience was dark and frenzied and utterly heartbreaking.

The ride back to the office was quiet and tense. I did my best to conceal the damage to my clothes and hair; but it was a windy day so I hoped no one would pay attention to a little sex hair.

When we arrived back at the Sterling Bank Building, Grayson pulled up at the corner of the block, away from prying eyes.

“Should I go up—” I asked at the same time he spoke.

“We should probably go up separately.”

I nodded, fumbling with the obnoxiously fancy door handle. There were at least thirty knobs and whistles on the damn door and I was left pressing anything that could possibly get me out. He chuckled and leaned over, popping the door open for me.

“Wait,” I said, suddenly growing curious about something. “What made you give me that note this morning in the conference room?”

“Do I have to give a reason?" he smirked.

I laughed. “Yes.”

“I liked the way you looked,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

“No,” I shook my head. “There's more to it than that.”

He sighed and looked out the window for a moment before meeting my eye with a look of steely resolve.

He shrugged, trying to downplay the sincerity of the moment and then he finally answered, “You’ve always been someone who interests me.”

I smiled. “Ah, now that makes sense. I am a very interesting girl.” I winked and he shook his head, pretending to be annoyed with my joke.

“I’ll see you up there in a just a minute,” he promised before placing a kiss on my cheek.

It was such a gentle move—a chaste kiss on the cheek wasn’t Grayson’s style—and yet it was enough to send me walking away from his car with a smile, wondering what in the world would come next.

…



Fifteen minutes later, Grayson stepped out of the elevator with two brown paper bags. I leaned back in my desk and squinted to read the black writing on the side of the bags, but I didn’t get the chance to make out the logo before he dropped one of them onto my desk.