Chapter Three

Lance

"Great. Just fucking great."

The insides of the vending machine rattle as I give it a good kick. The sound bounces off the shadows of the empty hallway.

It still doesn't give me any coffee, though. And I badly need some.

I lean against the wall and glance at the watch on my wrist.

It's only half past ten, but I've been working at the office since before everyone else left at six. That means I've been staring at my computer screen, coding for nearly five hours straight. Already, the numbers and symbols are starting to blur in my head. Any more and it might shut down.

I close my eyes and press the heels of my palms against my eyelids.

I'm not complaining. The client that came in yesterday, William Marsh, is big, the kind of big I want to be in a few years. He owns a few companies, the latest of which is a shipping company that he wants me to create some proprietary software for. He wants the design before New Year's, no less.

Of course I said yes. It's the biggest project my company has ever had. And I will get it done even if I have to do it myself.

But first, coffee.

The thought of getting out of the building and walking to the Starbucks around the corner crosses my mind, but the sight of snowflakes blowing almost horizontally in the frigid wind beyond the glass window dismisses it. I consider going home and taking my work with me, but then something else occurs to me.

There's a coffee vending machine in the employee lounge.

I've never been there, mainly because I know it's even more crowded than the smoking room. I know about the machine, though, because I've seen some of my employees returning from there with steaming cups of coffee.

At any rate, it's worth a try.

I step into the elevator and press the button for the sixteenth floor. I'm expecting it to be a quick ride at this time of night, but to my dismay, it stops at the ninth floor. No one gets in when the doors slide open, but I catch a glimpse of twinkling lights and hear the loud music streaming from the doors across the corridor.

Right. Tonight is Watts's company's Christmas party. The one he invited me to, though I doubt the invitation is still open after that burn I gave him.

Not that I want to go.

I press the button to close the doors. Thankfully, there are no other stops. I step out on the sixteenth floor and make my way to the room at the end of the hall.

It's deserted, just like the rest of the building except for that bustling ninth floor, and dark, except for the moonlight flowing in through the glass panels and the glowing vending machines, one of which has the word COFFEE.

I let out a sigh of relief and walk over to it. Just as I'm about to put my coins in, though, I turn my head and realize I'm not alone as I previously thought.

A person's silhouette is painted against the glass window.

As I step towards it, I realize it's a woman sitting on the arm of the couch. Her back is turned to me but I can see her hair coiled at her nape, the bow at the back of her dress and the golden bracelet around one of her wrists. I see a pair of high heeled shoes on the carpet as well.

My eyebrows crease.

What is a woman doing here all by herself at this hour?

Only one answer comes to mind.

"Shouldn't you be on the ninth floor?" I ask her.

She jumps off the arm of the couch and turns around. As soon as she does, her doe eyes hold mine.

Large brown beads shimmer with innocence in the darkness. They widen in surprise and fascination. Then, as her gaze travels elsewhere, they narrow just like her lips.

"Shouldn't you be?" she throws the question back at me.

"I don't work there."

"Neither do I."

I step forward as I study her.

Should I believe her? She looks a bit familiar, and yet I can say for sure that I've never seen her before.

A model that I've seen on the cover of some magazine? Maybe. She certainly has the face of one. And the body, too. Tall and slender. Her white dress with splotches of red lace hugs her firm breasts and her tiny waist perfectly. It extends beyond her knees, but the slit reveals half of a smooth and shapely thigh.

But what would a model be doing in this building? A guest of Kevin's, maybe?

I doubt it. That man may be able to charm his employees, but a woman like this requires more than just charm. Although, if she is Kevin's guest, that makes things even more interesting...

I take a step forward. "You look bored. Shall I amuse you?"

The sound of her laughter, gentle and melodic, travels across the quiet room.

I cock my head to one side. "It seems I've already amused you."

"I'm sorry," she says as she stops laughing. "I couldn't help it. Do you say that to every girl you find alone?"

"No," I answer.

Not those exact words, at least.

"You're the first to hear them."

She nods. "Of course you'd say that."

She sits down on the couch.

"And I suppose I should say 'Yes, please' and take off my dress? Is that what happens next?"

"It would save us both time," I tell her as I sit on the other end of the couch.

She snorts. "Unbelievable. You men all think you're God's gift to women, don't you? You think you can do with us as you please?"

"Not all men. Just me." I move closer to her, close enough to smell her sweet perfume. "And if I did what I wanted to do with you, I wouldn't be the only one pleased."

Again, she laughs. I catch a whiff of the alcohol on her breath. Wine, most probably.

I frown and stand up.

"Where are you going?" she asks after me.

"I don't play games with drunk women," I answer before turning on my heel.

"Boring."

I stop in my tracks.

"And here I thought you'd be more fun. Didn't you say you were going to amuse me? Please me? I guess you're all talk. Then again, aren't all you guys like that? All bark and no bite. All liars. All disappointments."

I turn around. "Did you just call me a liar?"

"Isn't that what you call a person who promises something but doesn't deliver?"

I scowl.

She grins as she pats the space next to her.

Oh, she wants to play, does she?

Fine.

I sit down. "Has anyone ever told you that naughty kids don't get their Christmas presents?"

She chuckles as she looks at me, then turns serious. "But being nice doesn't really get you anywhere either, does it?"

"Now you're talking."

Suddenly, she climbs onto my lap. Her thighs trap mine. Her hands grip my shoulders as she gazes down at me. Her thumbs run up and down to graze the side of my neck.

"Do you think you can give me a present instead?"

I search her eyes for a sign that she isn't serious but find only determination and a flicker of desire beneath the drunken haze.

At any rate, it's not like I can turn her away now. I'm already hard.

"Well, since it's almost Christmas and you're asking so naughtily..."

I place my hand behind her neck and pull her face down to mine. Our lips clash and then part. I taste the wine on her tongue.

I move my fingers up to her hair as I thrust my tongue inside her mouth. The coil unravels. The strands tumble free to form a soft veil over our cheeks.

My fingertips rub against her scalp. Hers dig into my shoulders.

Her hips begin to move. The warmth between her legs brushes against the tent between mine and a groan rumbles deep in my throat. Heat swirls in my belly.

She stiffens. The kiss breaks and she looks at me with wide, questioning eyes.

"You're...?"

"Hard," I finish the sentence for her.

And to prove it, I grab one of her hands and press her palm against my aching crotch. My cock quivers. She gasps.

"Not bored anymore, are you?"

Before she can answer, I claim her mouth again. As my tongue holds hers down, I cup her left breast. My thumb finds the stiff peak through the layers of fabric.

She shudders. The hand against my crotch trembles and my cock pulses in turn.

For a long moment, her hand doesn't move. Then it gives the slightest of strokes and my breath catches.

Fuck. She isn't even doing much and my patience is already nearing its limits. I must have been working harder than I thought.

And this is much better than caffeine.

My fingers find the zipper of her dress and pull it down. Again, I feel her tense.

I push it off her shoulders and undo the front hook of her bra. Her breasts spill out but she tries to cover them with her arms.

I glance at her and see the fire in her cheeks.

Now she's being shy? After she was being so bold earlier?

But I guess this only makes things more interesting.

I grab her wrists and plant a kiss on one of her palms. Then I plant another on the valley between her breasts before staring at the softly rolling hills on either side.

"Beautiful," I mutter.

"Don't..."

I capture one of the mounds between my lips and suck. She moans.

I pull away to stare at it again. It glistens with my saliva, its peak rosier than before.

I look up to see her cheeks just as dark.

Still blushing? Ah. Maybe she's embarrassed because they're not that big. I've definitely seen bigger. But I don't mind them at all.

Besides, don't models usually have small breasts?

I let her wrists go and cup both breasts. They fit nicely in my hands. I kiss her neck as my fingers trap her nipples, pulling and twisting.

Her hands go to the back of my head. Her fingers tug at strands of my hair as more moans escape her lips.

Each one goes straight to my cock and makes it ache even more.

I pull the hem of her dress up as I take her breast inside my mouth once more. My fingers brush against the patch of warmth on her underwear, which has now turned into a stain.

She lets out a cry.

I slip my hand beneath the cotton to search for the sweet nub between the damp folds of her skin. As soon as I find it, she lets out a gasp above me. Her thighs quiver and her blunt nails rake across my scalp.

"What the...?"

I start rubbing against that nub and her words become incomprehensible, a mess of gasps and moans. She continues to shiver. My fingertips grow wetter.

My briefs get wetter.

I'm at my limit.

I push her off my lap and down on the couch. I kiss her again as I pull her soaked panties off her legs.

Suddenly, just as the cotton garment is coming past her knees, her hand goes over mine.

I break the kiss and see the glimmer of fear in her eyes. The haze of alcohol is gone.

"Should I stop...?" I ask her after swallowing the lump in my throat.

I'd say her name, but I realize I don't have it yet.

For a moment, she doesn't answer. Then she pulls my face towards hers for a kiss before placing her lips next to my ear.

"Jordan," she whispers. "That's my name."

I look into her eyes. The fear is still there, but there's lust as well.

"Do you want me to continue, Jordan?" I ask her.

She nods.

I bring my mouth to hers again as my hand continues to get rid of her underwear. Then I whisper in her ear as I work furiously to get my cock out of its confines.

"I'll make you forget every jerk you've ever been with."

That's all the warning I give her before I push inside her. She lets out a cry. Her fingers dig into my shoulders.

I grit my teeth as I grip her thighs.

Shit. She's fucking tight. Probably tighter than anyone I've ever fucked.

"Wait," she pleads breathlessly.

I lift my head to see the pain on her face, and that's when it sinks in.

Jordan's a virgin.

That explains the innocent look and the exquisitely genuine reactions.

Frustration explodes in my chest.

I don't do virgins. I never have.

I'm screwed.

"Okay, you can move now," she whispers.

I seriously am screwed.

I hold my breath as I continue pushing inside her, then let it out once I'm in to the hilt. I glance at her face and see the beads of tears in the corners of her eyes, the strands of hair stuck to her cheeks, the tip of her tongue through her parted lips as she gasps for air.

I capture those lips again as I start moving. At first, Jordan doesn't move beneath me. I can still feel her holding her breath, feel the tension in every muscle of her body. Little by little, though, the tension leaves her. Her hands slide down to my arms as she kisses me back. Her hips push back against me.

I move even faster, as fast as I can go with her clinging to me. With each thrust, she threatens to squeeze my orgasm out of me, and I can feel it coming. Fast and hard.

But not before she does.

I lift her legs and go even deeper. Cries spill out of her lips as she trembles.

"Lance," I whisper.

Her eyebrows crease. "What?"

"My name is Lance," I tell her. "Say it."

Jordan's eyes fall shut. Her nails dig into my arms.

"Lance!"

She screams my name as she throws her head back. Her body arches against mine as it trembles all over.

I manage one more thrust before letting her milk me of every drop. My body jerks and then grows still. I let her thighs go and lean against the back of the couch. Her feet drape over my shoulders. Her arms fall to her sides.

For a while, we stay frozen and breathless like lakes that have turned to ice. Then I pull out.

"You should have told me it was your first time," I tell Jordan as I fix up.

She sits up and starts fixing her dress as well. "Because guys just love that, don't - ?"

She pauses in the act of picking her underwear from the floor. Her eyes gape first, and then her mouth follows suit as she turns to me with an expression of horror.

"You... didn't use... protection?"

I shake my head. She didn't know?

Well, I would have if I'd known she was a virgin. And if I had my wallet with me, which I don't have a habit of bringing when I'm just going down the hall for coffee.

Who would have thought I'd leave the office for coffee and end up with something far hotter and more exciting?

Jordan hurriedly puts on her panties. "And it didn't occur to you to pull out?"

"Honestly, no."

Her eyes narrow and flicker with anger.

Innocent one moment and feisty the next. She sure is something.

She pulls down her skirt and lifts her hand to slap me, but I catch it in mine and pull her in for a final kiss.

"You asked for a present, didn't you, Jordan?" I give her a mischievous grin.

"Ugh." She pulls away and grabs her shoes. "What was I thinking?"

"You weren't?" I suggest.

She frowns.

Ah. She looks genuinely annoyed. Somehow this expression suits her, too.

She shakes her head. "You, sir, are just like the rest of them."

"How would you know if I was your first?"

She stomps past me.

I get on my feet.

"Merry Christmas, Jordan. Be nice now. Or not."

She raises her middle finger in the air, her farewell gesture before she disappears.

I chuckle as I sit back down.

And here I intended to amuse her but it seems I'm the one who ended up amused. Fascinated and impressed, even, which is not something I can say for every woman I've fucked.

Satisfied? Hardly.

I tap my fingers on the arm of the couch.

Jordan, huh?

I wonder if I'll ever get to see her again.