Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(55)

I'd been going for a very long time, taking her almost lazily after so many rounds.  When I finally felt my balls drawing up, my seed pumping to my tip, then shooting into her, it caught me by surprise.  I hadn't even been trying to come.  At this point I'd been just enjoying the feel of her, my c**k putting in time memorizing her cunt, savoring the f**k.

I let her leg down, moving to lie directly on top of her, putting enough weight on her to make her breathing more labored.

Her eyes were closed, and I thought she might have already drifted off.

"I don't like Winona," she said quietly.  "She's trouble, I think."

I processed that, moving both our bodies around until I was spooning her from behind.  "Should I just fire her, then?"

She looked tempted by the notion but shook her head.  "Just be careful of her.  Be cautious, and don't trust her.  The way she looked at me . . . I didn't like it."

Winona made me paranoid, especially after Bianca's warning.  I always locked everything up, but I took to double checking things like that a lot.  The last thing I needed was to have her crawl into my office bed and make a scene.

It was the next day that I just decided to fire her.  She wasn't worth the thought it took to wonder if she was going to be a problem.

She was leaning over my desk again, doing the same damn thing she kept doing, working on my desk when I'd expressly told her not to, her br**sts spilling out of her shirt.

"Don't use my desk.  Use your desk.  How many times do I need to tell you that?"

As I spoke, I'd already made up my mind, but I wasn't planning to deal with her myself.  I didn't have the time to spare on trivialities like that.  Besides, the idiot office manager who'd hired her should have the honor.  I'd wait until she left my office to make the call.

Only, she didn't move away, but moved farther forward, her hands going to the buttons at her neckline, and then beginning to unbutton.  Her br**sts spilled right out.  She wasn't wearing a bra.

What did she think, that I'd be overcome at the sight of some big fake tits?

Needless to say, I was not.

"Okay, that is it.  You're done.  Collect your things.  You are out of here.  I'd prefer not to have security escort you, but I won't hesitate."

She did the strangest thing then.  One of the most baffling things I'd ever witnessed in my life.  So crazy it left me speechless.   And slow to react.

First, she took off running.  Just sprinted from my office to reception then back again, coming back with a phone in her hand.

Looking deranged, her tits still hanging out of her clothes, she moved to my bookshelf, propping the phone there, camera lens facing the room

She was recording us with her phone.

I got up and moved to the door.  I knew it was a f**king setup.  I would remove myself and have security take her out.

Her face strangely blank, she shrugged out of her dress.  She was na**d under, not even wearing panties.

I made it halfway across the room when her rushing na**d form made full contact with my retreating clothed one.

She was determined, throwing her arms around me, jumping up to try to straddle me as I attempted to move from the room.

I shouted, loudly, for security.  Trying to get away from her, not wanting to put my hands on her, but also wanting her to stop.

Luckily, they responded quickly, pulling her off me, taking her out of there.

"Be sure she is banned from the premises.  Revoke any access."

My office manager, Lenny, a man in his forties who had been given the position just over a year prior, went straight for the phone I mentioned to him that she'd left on the bookshelf.

"Erase that video," I told him.  "I've no idea what she wanted with it, but I want it gone.  Wipe the entire phone, actually.  Who knows what else she was up to.

He nodded and agreed, and left with the phone.

I was frazzled.  I wanted, first and foremost, to change out of my clothes, that that strange na**d woman had been all over.  I went to my attached suite, quickly showering and changing into another suit.

I wanted to forget that the entire incident had ever happened.

By the time I got home to Bianca, I just didn't want to talk about it.  The whole thing had been odd and pointless, left a bad taste in my mouth, and I just wanted to put it behind me.

We were back in Vegas when the news hit.

A video had been leaked, a drastically doctored video that made it look very bad, made it look like I'd been embracing a na**d woman in my office, instead of warding her off.

My first and biggest question: Who had leaked it?

My office manager had a whole hell of a lot to answer for.

My first and biggest concern:  Bianca.

Of course.  What else?

I was at the casino when it hit.  I left right away, as soon as I saw and heard what had been leaked, in fact.

Bianca was not at home and had not answered her phone.  It nearly sent me into a panic.

Stephan had not answered his either.  A sick feeling was crawling persistently through my belly, snaking its way up to my chest.

Javier picked up on the first ring.  "She's with him," he told me.

"Is she all right?  Is she upset?"