We stared at each other, both of us angrier than we should probably be for the situation, breathing heavily. My eyes snagged hers and we stared at each other for a long, heated moment. Suddenly all the oxygen seemed to leave the room.
Then we flew together like someone had fired a starter pistol. Grace lowered her head, and I popped up on my tiptoes, and then we were kissing, our mouths crashing together.
It felt like the rightest thing I’d ever done. I was immediately more aroused than I’d been in my life. Not that I’d had a ton of experience.
I gripped Grace’s shoulders as the kiss went on and on. She wrapped her hands around my hips, hands going to my ass, pulling me closer as our tongues dueled for control.
“You’re too short,” she gasped as we broke apart to catch our breath.
“Maybe you’re too tall,” I said, leaning in to nip her lower lip with my teeth.
The instinct to argue with her was ingrained in me.
Grace growled, then grabbed me by the waist and swung me around to sit on the top of the conference table. Our lips met again, and when my tight pencil skirt impeded her ability to move between my legs, Grace shoved the fabric of my skirt up to my hips then shoved my legs apart. I immediately wrapped them around her hips, pulling her closer.
This kiss was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It was hot and passionate, but also somehow tender. It felt like something I’d been waiting for my entire life. And maybe I had.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Grace muttered against my jaw as she licked her way down and across to my ear. She bit down on my lobe, then kissed her way back to my lips.
I snaked my hands between us, unbuttoning some of the buttons on her blouse until I could get better access to her breasts. Then I cupped the lace covered globes, one in each hand, and squeezed and kneaded her flesh while Grace made love to my mouth.
I was burning up now, my entire body on fire. Our hips rubbed against each other as our tongues dueled for control of the kiss.
“Is everything… oh, I’m so sorry ma’am. I thought I heard pounding before.”
It took a few seconds for the male voice to penetrate through the haze. With reluctance I pulled away from Grace to see one of our security guards standing in the doorway, staring at us in shock.
“Darrell?” I asked, as if he was an apparition.
“Yes ma’am Ms. Lowenthal, I’m so sorry to interrupt.”
He seemed to be rooted to the spot, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks.
“It’s fine,” I said, striving for some decorum. “I’m glad you came by. The door was stuck, we couldn’t get out.”
Grace finally came to her senses, stepping away from me like I was toxic. I closed my legs quickly, not wanting to give Darrell more of a show than he’d already gotten, and pulled my skirt down as I slid down off the conference room table.
“I’ll talk to you later, Nicole,” Grace mumbled in a very not-Grace like voice.
She picked up her bag off the floor and pushed her way past my security guard, not turning back as she practically ran away.
Grace
Isighed as I let myself into my condo. My floor was right in the middle of Ariel’s and Maeve’s but each of us had different layouts and decorating schemes. My place was the homiest – at least in my opinion – with overstuffed furniture, nature prints on the walls and pillows, and thick rugs on the floor.
As my mother had said when she first saw it, my condo looked more like a country farmhouse than an inner city condo. Mom wasn’t a big fan of the ‘shabby chic’ look. Not that I cared. I loved my little sanctuary.
“Hey baby. How’s my special boy?”
I crouched down to greet Mr. Mittens, my geriatric cat. I’d found him on the street about ten years ago. He’d been so scrawny I’d thought he was a kitten, but once he got access to regular foodwe realized that he was older. The vet estimated that he was close to fifteen years old now, and the poor guy was starting to show his age. He’d spent the entirety of last winter laying under a heating vent.
My kitty was all black except for his white feet that made it look like he was wearing adorable little mittens.
Mr. Mittens shoved his head beneath my hand in a not-so subtle hint to rub between his ears. His contented purring immediately soothed some of the anxiety in my chest.
“Do you want some of your little fishes?” I asked.
Recognizing the word, Mr. Mittens trotted towards the kitchen. I kicked off my shoes and followed him, pulling out the special sardines I bought for him. After feeding him exactly three – despite his strident whines for more – I got him some fresh water and emptied a can of his special soft food into his dish.
