At Her Boss's Bidding

‘Who said anything about cooking? We’ll order something in. Is that all right by you?’

‘Perfect.’ There was no worry that she’d be spending any time with Justin on a Saturday. That was one of the many stipulations he’d made during their marathon afternoon of sex and sin. He wasn’t offering her a real relationship. He didn’t think it was fair to her to build her hopes up in that regard. Meeting each other’s sexual needs was what they were doing. But dating was out. So was going to each other’s places. Sex was to be confined to the office, but not till after five in future. Today was an exception.

She’d agreed to stay behind after work for a while every day till they were both satisfied. She’d agreed that he would not take her out to dinner afterwards, or take her home. She’d agreed that they wouldn’t see each other at weekends.

In hindsight, Rachel could see she would have agreed to anything at the time.

But she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was skating on thin ice where Justin was concerned. She had underestimated the extent of his broken heart, and the darkness that had invaded his shattered soul. If Eric had hurt her, Justin could very well destroy her. But she felt helpless against the power of her need to have him make love to her as he had today. Primitively. Erotically. Endlessly.

There was nothing she wouldn’t agree to to continue their sexual relationship.

‘Uh-oh, I’d better go, Rach. The lord and master is stirring. Now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do till I get home,’ Isabel said happily, and hung up.

‘No worries there,’ Rachel muttered ruefully as she replaced the phone in its cradle. ‘Whatever you’re doing with Rafe, I’m doing one hell of a lot more with Justin. Much, much more.’

An image flashed into her mind of her straddled over Justin’s lap, her back glued to his chest, her arms wound up around his neck. They were seated on his office chair, their naked bodies fused and beaded with sweat, despite the air-conditioning. He was making a pretext of showing her how his programs worked whilst he idly played with her breasts. If he’d expected her to learn anything, he was sadly mistaken. All she’d learned was that she was rapidly becoming addicted to his brand of sex, and rapidly becoming obsessed with him.

If Isabel thought Rafe’s body was great, then she hadn’t seen Justin’s. She quivered just thinking about how he felt, all over. She couldn’t get enough of touching him. And whatever else he wanted her to do.

And he’d wanted her to do everything today. There wasn’t an inch of his beautiful male flesh that hadn’t enjoyed the avid attentions of her mouth, or her hands. She’d been shameless. Utterly shameless.

Yet shame wasn’t her overriding emotion when she thought of the woman she became in his arms. The memory evoked the most intoxicating excitement. Her heart thundered and a wave of heat flushed her skin.

There was no way she could voluntarily give up having sex with Justin. No way she could quit now and get another job. She was his, till he decided otherwise. His to admire and desire. His to have and, yes, to hold.

But never to marry, she reminded herself.

Her heart twisted at this last thought. But that didn’t stop her racing down to Isabel’s walk-in wardrobe and seeing what was there for her to wear for Justin tomorrow. Something classy but sexy, she wanted, her eyes scanning the long rows filled with outfits, most of them suits in pastel shades. She pulled out a pale blue silk trouser suit, then put it back. Trousers did not appeal. She needed something with a skirt, either long and floaty, or short and tight. Something that would draw Justin’s eye and recharge his hormones. She wanted him well and truly fired up by five. She wanted him as desperate for her as she already was for him.

A cream linen suit caught her eye, matched with a mustard-gold camisole. The jacket still had long sleeves but that didn’t matter yet. Sydney’s weather was still overcast and cool.

She laid it across the bed then rummaged around till she found matching cream shoes and bag. The jewellery box on the dressing table revealed a pearl choker with matching earrings. Not real pearls, of course, but still classy-looking. This time she would put her hair up in a more severe fashion, showing her throat and ears. To compensate, she would wear more make-up, paying particular attention to her eyes and mouth. Rachel knew she had nice eyes. And Justin seemed fascinated with her mouth.

Oh, and she would wear perfume. One of the expensive French fragrances Isabel had always favoured. Rachel had already noticed several not quite empty bottles in the wall cupboard above the main vanity unit. She would experiment with a new one each day and find out which one Justin seemed to like the most, then go and buy herself a bottle.