Darker Ecstasy Read online

  "How shall we configure ourselves?" he asked, leaning against my desk and looking at the few knick-knacks I had on my shelves.

  "Excuse me?" I said, sure I missed something he said.

  "For working together. How shall we seat ourselves?" he replied. He was looking at me like he had the night before, his eyes smiling but his mouth serious. Did he know what I had been thinking?

  "Right. Of course," I said with a slight shake of my head. "Let's bring a chair around and we can just sort of share the workspace?"

  "Sounds good." He grabbed a chair and brought it next to mine. "May I?" he asked, sitting down and picking up the pad I had been using to make notes.

  "Please," I said, nodding at him. I watched him as he scanned my notes (chicken scratches, really; I think much faster than I can write and it shows), his face remained expressionless until the end, when he put the pad down and noticed me watching.

  "Good job, Melody. You've really gotten a lot of background done."

  "I've been wanting to go after them for a long time."

  "Tenacious. I like that," he said, giving me a wink that made me catch my breath. "What are you thinking?" I started talking, getting up and pacing around my desk, as he took notes.I won't bore you with a minute-by-minute replay (although I could, it seems like every moment is burned in to my memory, maybe because it was the first time we worked together, maybe because it is Malcolm), but needless to say we worked well together that day (and every other day, too, for that matter). It seemed like any time I came to a wall, he was already on the far side of it, and vice-versa. I think that's why it all seemed so easy with him, we're compatible, we are equally bright and creative, but in slightly different ways, so we compliment each other. It's exhilarating in it's own way.

  Malcolm left around five to have drinks with Ian. I stayed a little longer, finishing up a few things before I left to have dinner with my best friend, Tony. Weird, thinking back to it, I realize that while I did tell him about the new VP (and how it wasn't me), I didn't really tell him. I didn't tell him he was sexy, I didn't tell him I looked at his lips and longed to feel them at odd places on my body. I wanted to, but I didn't. I figured it was a school-girl type crush, and it would pass.

  It didn't.

  We worked exclusively together nearly every day for the next three weeks. Sometimes I would be pacing and speaking, brainstorming with him, and I would glance at him to find he was... ogling me, and I would lose my train of thought. Or I would find myself inching closer to him, drawn by his delicious smell. Soap and cologne and sweat...his smell was 100% male. But nothing ever happened. He never made a move and I...well, I just figured it was better that I didn't. Something about Malcolm made me think he did not like pushy women. And as the time passed, I just figured it – this undercurrent of sexual attraction – was all me. Until one day, about two and a half weeks later. I came in extra early after stopping at a QFC to buy every women's magazine I could find. When Malcolm got in I was sitting back in my chair, my feet up on the desk thumbing through a 'Cosmopolitan'.

  "You should always wear skirts, Melody," he said, leaning in the doorway.

  I glanced at my legs and realized my skirt – a swishy one this day – had slid down my legs, exposing them to mid-thigh level and revealing the top of one stocking.

  "Geez, sorry about that," I said, swinging my legs down off my desk and pulling my skirt over my knees.

  "Please don't apologize," he said, still leaning in the doorway. I glanced at him and noticed he was looking at me greedily again.

  "Shall we get started?" I asked, my voice sounding the tiniest bit thicker than normal.

  "Let's move to the conference room? It has far more space."

  I nodded, gathering up the magazines and my laptop. Malcolm hovered in the doorway, moving aside slightly as I passed him, but not enough for me to avoid touching him. I very plainly felt his hand cup my ass and I shivered.

  We camped out in the conference room all day, working until almost 7PM, when Malcolm finally glanced at his watch. We had come to a natural stopping point and decided to call it a day, making our way out together and waited for the elevator. The whatever-it-was I felt earlier (attraction? sexual tension? who knows?) had been pushed completely out of mind with the work.

  "By the way, we're going to Houston next week," Malcolm said as we stepped in to the elevator. He pushed the buttons for the garage and lobby before leaning back and looking at me.

  "We are? So soon?" I asked, surprised. I knew eventually we would have to make a presentation, a bid, in person, but I was wanting it to be later. I enjoyed being close to Malcolm too much. I didn't want that to end.

  "Yes. Strike while the iron is hot."

  "Okay."

  "You should have your travel information tomorrow afternoon. We'll leave Sunday. Be prepared to stay a week."

  "Yes, Malcolm," I said a bit absentmindedly, thinking about being in a strange city with him, in a hotel with him, wondering how far apart our rooms would be. The elevator stopped at the lobby and I started to get out, but Malcolm grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back in and hitting the button to close the doors behind me. "What...?" I began, but he stopped me with a finger on my lips.

  "Say it again, Melody," he said, his voice a low threat, a pant.

  "Say what?" I whispered. I was the tiniest bit nervous and hugest bit turned on. I looked at his eyes as they dropped to my breasts. I felt my nipples get hard. He lifted his eyes back to mine and I saw something...something wild in them, something barely held in check, and I felt the heat bloom between my legs at the thought of it. Suddenly, I realized what he wanted.

  "Yes, Malcolm."

  He kissed me, hard, forcing his tongue in to my mouth. The elevator arrived at the parking garage and the doors opened, but Malcolm didn't stop kissing me. He pushed me against the wall next to the control panel, pressing himself against me, stepping between my legs and bending his knees somewhat so I could feel his erection against my crotch. I whimpered – a small, almost mewling sound – and kissed him back, surrendering to the dizzying feelings radiating out from between my legs. He pulled the lever to stop the elevator as the doors slid shut on the garage, his grip on my arm tightened and I moaned.

  He broke the kiss, leaning his head back to look at me, and began grinding against me, moving his hips in a parody of sex, rubbing his hard cock against me. I sighed, unconsciously angling myself and moving with him, trying to keep as much pressure on my clit as possible.

  "Does that feel good?" he asked, moving a bit from side to side.

  "Yes, Malcolm," I whispered, eyes closed. My hands were flat against the wall behind me, giving me leverage to push my hips back at him.

  "Lift up your skirt," he said, and I opened my eyes to look at him. He was looking back at me levelly, his eyes inscrutable, and I knew that I could say no.

  I didn't want to.

  "Yes, Malcolm," I breathed, raising my skirt to my hips.

  "Do you know what kind of woman wears her panties on the outside of her garter?" he asked teasingly, his hands sliding up my thighs to my hips, grabbing the lace underwear I wore and pulling at it until it ripped. "A slut, Melody. A dirty little slut wears her panties outside her garter." He pulled them harder until he was able to get them mostly torn off and I could feel cool air against my sex. "Isn't that so?"

  "Yes, Malcolm," I moaned. I heard him unzip his pants and I drew in my breath in anticipation, spreading my legs a bit more and angling my hips toward him.

  "You want me to fuck you, Melody?" he asked quietly, caressing my cheek with his hand. "Right here in the elevator?" I bit my lip, shame burning my cheeks. But still, I nodded. "Say it. Tell me what you want me to do."

  "I want you to fuck me," I whispered, a hot tear running down my cheek. "Please, Malcolm."

  He smiled, and in one seamless movement, thrust himself inside me hard enough to lift me off my feet. I cried out, throwing my arms and legs around him as I came, shaking, and he grunted into my
neck.

  "Your cunt is so wet for me, isn't it? Like a good little slut," he breathed into my neck as he impaled me on him. Each thrust hit my cervix with a most delicious feeling – pain, but good pain, pleasurable pain – that had me at the edge of orgasm again. "Are you my good little slut?" he grunted.

  "Yes, Malcolm," I moaned.

  "You want to come again, don't you? My good little slut wants to come, wants her hot, tight cunt to squeeze me. She likes being fucked hard, doesn't she?"

  The combination of hearing him speak to me so profanely in that proper, clipped British accent and the way he moved inside me pushed me over and I climaxed again, and again, and again. I called myself his slut, I agreed with everything he said, I begged him to fuck me harder, I begged him to come inside me and I begged him to never stop. In the end, I settled for moaning "please, Malcolm" and "yes, Malcolm" over and over as he groaned and came inside me, my body shaking around his from head to foot as his orgasm triggered another one for me.

  He leaned his head on my shoulder, and I could feel the sweat from his brow dampen my blouse as he began to shrink inside me. He kept his head down, resting a moment as I untangled myself from him and slid down. I held on to his shoulders a moment, making sure my legs would hold me up before I tried to push him away.

  "Don't," he said quietly, raising his head and kissing me softly. He looked at me but I dropped my eyes, cheeks bright red and tears blurring my vision.

  "Don't be embarrassed, Melody. You are so lovely, so beautiful." He kissed me again, putting his arms around me. "I could not help myself," he sighed.

  "Oh...Malcolm," I breathed, snuggling against him for a moment, enjoying his warmth.

  "Let me take you home."

  "I'd rather not," I said, shaking my head.

  "Of course," he said, stepping back and rearranging his clothes. I shook out my skirt and smoothed my hair, wiping the mascara-tinged tears from under my eyes. He took me in his arms again briefly before reaching over and restarting the elevator, hitting the button for the lobby. He put a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. "This is quite far from over, Melody," he whispered as the elevator doors slid open on the empty lobby. He kissed me, slipping his tongue in and out of my mouth quickly, before letting me go.

  "Good night, Malcolm," I said shakily, stepping out of the elevator as he gave me a slight bow. I turned and watched the doors slide shut between us, the promise of his words making me shiver.

  "Well," Tony said. It was Saturday evening and we were at the Broadway Grill, sitting at one of the sidewalk tables, for dinner. It had been three days since my encounter with Malcolm in the elevator, and I had just confessed everything to my best friend, even showing him the fading bruises on my elbow from Malcolm's hand. "I can't believe you waited three whole days to tell me," he sniffed dramatically. "What happened on Thursday and Friday?"

  "Thursday was weird."

  "How?"

  "I was really worried about seeing him again, you know?" Tony nodded. "But I didn't see him that much. He had a lunch with Ian, and a few other things that kept him busy. But when I did see him..."

  "What?"

  "Well, he would just suddenly 'be there'. I was at my desk, going over the proposal for umpteenth time, and suddenly he was there. Or, I would be in the hall or coming out of the restroom, and there he was. It was like..."

  "Like what?"

  "I should have been embarrassed or nervous, but I didn't have a chance to think about it before I saw him, so I wasn't. But on the other hand...it was like I would get what happened out of my mind, right, and be working along or whatever, and BAM! There's Malcolm again and it all came back."

  "What about yesterday?"

  "That was oddly...uneventful. We ran over the proposal a dozen more times, the powerpoint two dozen...but that's almost all there was."

  "Almost?"

  "Sometimes he would...touch me."

  "Touch you? Touch you how?"

  "I dunno...just little touches."

  "Like...?" I shrugged but didn't answer. "What...do you need therapy dolls to show me?"

  "Nice" I laughed, throwing a cracker at him.

  "Well?"

  "He would touch my hand, or my elbow...one time he put his hand on my lower back when we went for lunch."

  "The bastard!"

  "Ha ha."

  "So what happens now?"

  "I don't know," I said after a long pause, shrugging my shoulders. "I've never been to Texas."

  "Mmmhmmm," he said, taking a sip of his martini. "Let me just see if I have this straight, okay?" I nodded. "Wednesday night you had sudden, intense, super hot big daddy sex with your boss?"

  "Big daddy sex?" I asked, leaning forward and laughing.

  "You want to revise your story? Because if not there's a whole lot of domination going on."

  "He wasn't violent," I hissed. "Geez, you make it sound as if he was in assless leather chaps and carrying a bull whip." I chose to ignore why the idea of Malcolm with a bullwhip made my thighs quiver. I just wasn't going to think about that. Ever.

  "All chaps are assless, my dear, that's what makes them chaps. But that's beside the point. I didn't say there was a whole lot of sadism going on, did I?"

  "Domination, bondage, S&M...it all goes together, right?"

  "Not necessarily, dearheart." He looked at me and shook his head, smiling. "Perhaps a little research on this is in order? Stop thinking 'Story of O' or 'Philosophy in the Bedroom'. Think...'Exit to Eden'."

  I raised my eyebrows at that, making a mental note to google those titles.

  "Anyway, you had this amazing encounter Wednesday, then spent Thursday and Friday in a weird limbo with neither of you mentioning it, and the only thing you can think to talk about with me tonight is the fact you've never been to Texas? Really?"

  "What do you want me to talk about, Tony?"

  "Talk about Malcolm."

  "I don't know what to say," I said, picking up my drink and chewing on my straw.

  "What are you feeling, Melly?" he asked gently.

  "I don't know..." I said. "Mostly confused, I guess. You know I was never very...sexually active."

  "But you responded to him, to his words and his actions, right? You said you felt like he was in complete control of you, and you liked that a lot, right?" I looked at him as he picked up his glass and looked at it thoughtfully. "Maybe your Dom has found you," he said quietly.

  "My 'Dom'? What does that mean?"

  "Sounds like you're a submissive."

  "Please." I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him.

  "Why not?"

  "Isn't that a little...disturbing?"

  "Not if this is what works for you." I snorted "What? You think you're the only one? You think it means you're sick? Or fucked up? I'm willing to bet there are millions of people who enjoy a little name-calling, a little roughness, even a little whipping." He swallowed the rest of his martini and signaled the waitress for another one. "You are not the first and you certainly won't be the last, Melly. This is nothing to be ashamed of."

  "Yeah, but...It's the last word anyone -- least of all you -- would use to describe me, right?"

  "Why didn't you let him take you home Wednesday? Why did you insist on taking a cab?" I just shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Was it because you were afraid it would happen again?'

  "No." I said quietly, leaning forward so he could hear me. "I was afraid it wouldn't. Now...I'm afraid it will never happen again."

  "I don't think that will be an issue, my dear," Tonysaid, putting his hand over mine and giving it a squeeze. "How did you feel, Melly, as it was happening? I don't mean physically -- I mean in here," he said, touching his head, "and here," he added, touching his chest over his heart.

  "I felt...wanted...desired."

  "And that was a good feeling?" I nodded. "Good. Then go with it, let it be what it will be and don't fight it."

  I sat quietly as the waitress brought him another martini. "Can we talk a
bout something else now?"

  "Of course," Tony said, putting his glass down. "Let's talk about your upcoming trip to Texas with the luscious-lipped Malcolm," he said in his most over-the-top queen drawl, giving me a very elaborate wink, making me laugh.

  We finished our dinner and walked about a bit, talking about nothing in particular, calling it an early night. I had a flight to catch in the morning and he had a brunch date. We parted, me heading back down to my condo in Queen Anne with a solemn promise to tell keep him updated, and him heading back to his house in Capital Hill. I felt better, lighter than I had since Wednesday night.