Delaney

---

The next morning, I ransack my closet, slip on some shoes, and make my way to Tyler’s office.

When the elevator dings on his floor, I smooth a hand over my hastily assembled outfit. Tight black skirt. Short-sleeve white blouse. Heels. They’re black and make me four inches taller.

Enough said.

He doesn’t know I’m coming. But the lift of his brow yesterday afternoon, and the glint in his eye, told me he’d be fine with an unexpected visitor who’s come to grovel.

The receptionist greets me with a cheery hello.

“I’m looking for Oliver Edgecombe.”

“Of course. Who shall I say is here?”

I set my hands on her desk, dart my eyes around, and whisper, “It’s Delaney, but can you keep it a secret? I’m surprising Tyler, and I need Oliver’s help. I don’t want Tyler to know I’m here to give him a neck massage.”

That’s my cover. Well, I suspect Oliver knows what a neck massage will probably turn into. But when I called him this morning to ask for his help, he went along with the premise. Bless him.

Holly smiles. “Of course.”

She dials Tyler’s coworker, and a few seconds later, the handsome man strides to the front of the office to greet me. We review the plan, and he gives me a thumbs-up.

“You’re a doll,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he winks. “I hope someday some hot, strapping thing surprises me at my office with a neck massage. Someday soon, come to think of it.”

I smile. “I’ll hope that for you, too.”

The receptionist waves her hand, cutting in. “Yoo-hoo. Can I get in on this, too?”

“Of course, Holly.” Oliver whispers to her, and her blue eyes light up. She guides me to the copy room, ushers me in, and shuts the door.

“I love surprises,” Holly says, her tone giddy. “Tyler’s going to be so psyched to see you.”

I wonder how she knows that. “He is?”

Holly nods and keeps her voice hushed. “He’s crazy about you.”

“He mentions me?”

“Yes. Several times. All good. Plus, he’s always stretching his neck back and forth.”

I want to ask more, but I’ve already procured enough good news to float away on a cloud of bliss. I cock my head when I hear Oliver ask Tyler to come into his office. That’s the cue. Holly opens the copy room door, scans the hall, then beckons to me. She points across the hallway to Tyler’s office, sets a hand on my back, and guides me inside with a gentle shove.

“Should I shut the door?” she whispers.

I nod and mouth yes, please.

As soon as it clicks shut, I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt and wait.

My heart jackhammers, and my skin heats up. With excitement. With hope. With desire.

“You got this, man. You’re the IP king,” Tyler’s voice booms from the hall, and a stupid grin spreads on my face. Is it crazy that I love that he’s praising his colleague? But I do. I love that he’s good to them. I love, too, that they want to help surprise him.

Most of all, I’m thrilled he’s about to open the door.

The doorknob creaks and then turns.

It’s now or never.

With a quickness, my fingers open more buttons.

“Weird. Don’t remember closing this,” he says to himself, as he opens the door all the way, and I pray he’s alone.

“You didn’t close it.”

He blinks and roams his eyes over me. It takes all of one second to register what’s happening, and in that wink of time, he slams the door shut. “Please say you’re not an illusion.”

“I’m not an illusion or a figment of your dirty imagination. But I am sorry.” I work open another button.

He shakes his head and gestures to me. “Never apologize for this.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthright when we went for a run,” I clarify, as I finish the final button.

“Feel free to keep everything inside again if it gets me this type of groveling,” he says, his voice husky.

My white blouse is undone now, so I strip it off, tossing it on his office couch. I’m wearing a black demi-cup bra, and his eyes linger on my breasts as I say, “I want you to know that I’m trying to share what’s on my mind.”

“What’s on it right now?”

I nod to the door. “Right now, I’m thinking you ought to lock the door.”

His hand darts out and flicks the lock.

I close the distance between us, park my palms on his strong chest, then walk him backward.

All the way to his desk chair. I push him down into the black leather. He looks like a king of the boardroom in his charcoal pants, white shirt, and maroon tie. He loosens the silk tie as he stares up at me with hooded eyes.

“Now what?” he asks, challenging me.

“Now, I’m going to show you that I remember everything you taught me.”

He groans, carnal and masculine and so damn sexy. Raising his chin confidently, he reaches for my face and runs the pad of his thumb across my top lip. In a dirty growl, he says, “Then get down on your knees like a good girl so I can fuck your mouth like a bad one.”

Heat flares through me, and I fall to my knees, quickly working open the zipper to his pants. His thick erection strains against the fabric, and that only makes me want him more. He helps me along, untucking his shirt as I release him from the confines of his boxer briefs.

His cock springs free, and I’m hungry and eager. I curl a fist around his hard length, and he hisses. “Fuck,” he grunts.

I haven’t even wrapped my lips around him, and he’s so turned on. So am I. I ache between my legs just thinking about what I’m about to do to him.

“First step,” I whisper, my lips hovering near the head of his dick. “Open wide.”

He smiles as he clamps his hands to the side of my head. “You remember.”

“I remember it all.” This man taught me how to give a blow job. Step by step, he showed me the basics. He instructed me on what he liked, and how to blow his mind. And I did it the way he liked it, over and over, because I loved making him feel good.