One Night at the Office (One Night Series) Read online

  One Night at the Office

  By Natalie Pratt

  Copyright 2014 by Lowe Interactive Media, LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  1

  To say it had been awkward since Palm Beach would have been an understatement. A major understatement.

  For Kathryn Ross, work had been excruciating. Nothing she did at the office happened without careful planning in her mind. She timed when she arrived to make sure she got there no later than five minutes after 8AM, just moments after Chris Masterson and a full twenty-five minutes before anyone else in the social media department. She coordinated every outfit, making sure her body-hugging cardigan matched her tight but conservative black skirts and silk shift dresses. No hair on her head ever strayed out of place, and no makeup on her face ever smudged. She answered every e-mail promptly and attended every meeting on time, often lingering afterward to see if Chris would give her some indication of what would happen between them next.

  But he never did.

  A full two weeks of stony silence passed between them. If you'd asked her, Kathryn would have said she wondered sometimes if that unforgettable night of barrier-crossing sex had all been in her mind. In fact, she wondered that more and more every day.

  Especially when she looked at e-mails from Chris like the one in her Outlook box right now, on the thirteenth day of work since their trip. In one cold, crisp sentence, it asked her to come into his office to discuss some important paperwork for a new account the company had for Krisp Kutter Beauty School.

  "Those Ks," she muttered to herself as she stared at the e-mail. "Why did they have to do that with the Ks?"

  Sometimes, no amount of social media and branding could drag a company away from the abyss. Kathryn feared Krisp Kutter Beauty School would turn out to be one of those companies.

  After a long sigh, she closed the e-mail, grabbed the pen and notepad next to her desk, and got up. From her cubicle, she only had a short walk to Chris's office, which sat at the end of a long, rectangular room full of cubicles just like hers, occupied by people who made $45,000 a year. She knew Chris made far more than that, though. His custom suits, bespoke ties, and snakeskin shoes proved it.

  Bastard.

  As she walked, she silently thanked herself that none of her coworkers seemed aware that anything had happened in Palm Beach between her and Chris. They didn't need to have any idea.

  "Miss Ross, come right in and close the door," Chris said when she reached his office. She wondered for a second how he knew she stood there, since he sat with his back to the door and his focus on something that looked like a budget on his desktop computer. She decided not to ask him, though, and chose the leather chair closest to the door after she closed it. Her back faced a window that overlooked the rest of the staff on Cubicle Row.

  "Are you having a nice day?" he said.

  "Yes."

  As usual, he reminded her of an ad for men's cologne. Dark suit. Pinstripe tie. White shirt. Meticulous hair. Gorgeous.

  She sat on the edge of her seat for about three breaths before Chris closed down a few programs on his computer and swiveled his chair around to face her. "Did you review the e-mail I sent you?"

  "Yes."

  "Good." His face showed no emotion, nothing. He just regarded her with a stony, stoic, impassive face that gave no hint about the passionate night they had shared in Palm Beach. "We'll need to draw up an action plan for Krisp Kutter. They have very little social media presence beyond a Facebook page with five hundred likes."

  "I noticed that in my research."

  "And we'll need to figure out their brand in one short sentence." Chris leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me, Miss Ross, did your research give you any ideas about a jumping off point for that?"

  "A few ideas," she lied. "But nothing concrete we can stick with."

  "Well, remedy that right away."

  "Certainly."

  He picked up a pen and tapped it on the side of his dark, cherry-wood desk, never taking his eyes off her. "Now. About the real reason I asked you in here."

  "There's another reason?"

  He laughed. "Of course there is."

  "And what is that?" she said as she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her outfit that day was a pairing of a dark-green skirt with a black V-neck cardigan, and a black lace thong with garters for her black thigh-high tights. She hoped when she changed positions that Chris got a glimpse of this, but if he did, he showed no sign of it on his face.

  Damn.

  "There's bad weather headed this way," he said, still tapping his pen. "Very bad. Snowstorm."

  "I've heard that."

  "We should be getting three to five inches."

  "Well," she said, and adjusted herself again, this time to give him a better view of the top of her cleavage, "that sounds terrible. We'll be in for a hard commute home."

  "Very hard."

  His voice slightly changed and Kathryn knew right then that she hadn't imagined Palm Beach at all. This gave her a satisfaction she wanted desperately to hold onto. Of course, she also wanted to hold onto Chris Masterson. Fuck him. Please him. See his naked body again.

  "I'll be releasing the staff early, Miss Ross. I just made the decision."

  "Good decision," she said, then made sure to emphasize her next words. "Release is always good."

  "That it is." He stopped the tapping of the pen. "Sadly, though, I won't be able to release you early. You'll have to stay a bit late here, and work with me on a special, urgent project."

  "Urgent project?" She feigned innocence at this words, but hoped the "urgent project" had something to do with his cock. The way he looked at her told her it probably did. What a relief. "Urgent projects can be very serious."

  "Yes." He grinned at her. "I hope you're alright with this."

  "I think I can be."

  "Good." He stood up from the desk and braced his hands on it. "Now, I want you to leave. Go back to your desk and wait. Make sure you look busy."

  "I can do that." She stood up, too.

  "If anyone asks you why you're not leaving with everyone else, I expect you to come up with a good excuse." He popped his jaw twice. "Can you do that, Miss Ross?"

  "I'm sure I can. I'll just tell them that, as usual, you're being an asshole."

  Another grin spread across his face. "Good. I cultivated that reputation for a reason. Serves me very well."

  "I see that."

  He folded his arms across his chest and nodded at the door. "Now that we have that settled, you can go."

  "I was planning on it." Without another acknowledgment of him, she walked over to the door. Just as she was about to open the door, she heard his voice again.

  "I'm looking forward to fucking you later, Miss Ross."

  She grinned to herself, opened the door, and walked back out to Cubicle Row.

  2

  The office cleared out by 3:30PM. Kathryn watched it happen from behind her large computer monitor, and she found it hard to stifle a smile. The panoramic window at the end of the office gave her a great view of the impending snowstorm, too. Ohio in late winter could be so temperamental. Just that morning, the sun had shone with the promise of an early spring. Now, in the middle of the afternoon, the sky had turned dark-gray as the clouds got ready to dump snow on top of everyone and everything. All of her co-workers talked about it as they walked past her desk on their way out the door. They dreaded the drive home, and she had to pretend she would, too, once she finished a report that, "Mr. Masterson demanded her complete before she left."

  She didn't know if she sounded believable, but part of her didn't care, either. The so
oner her coworkers left, the sooner she'd be naked in Chris Masterson's office. She'd been dreaming of that cock every night since Palm Beach. Long. Hard. Ready for her. Practically begging. That was the way she liked it. And boy, did she like it a lot.

  Once her coworkers left, she'd have it again. Maybe twice this time.

  She looked over at the large digital clock hanging on the wall above a row of computers and some bad artwork.

  3:35PM.

  The snow had picked up and only one person remained in the office besides Chris and herself. Hank Thomas sat at his desk like a stuck pig. She despised him. He never showed up to work on time, never ironed his shirts, and always seemed to have what remained of his breakfast crusted in the corners of his mouth. More than once, she'd caught him staring at her lecherously, as if he thought of her as a cupcake he could never have. Kathryn often tried to ignore him, but it hardly ever worked. He'd catch up with her around the office coffee-pot or as she walked out of the ladies room.

  And on that night, even with the impending snowstorm, he showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. Kathryn tapped her pen on the side of her desk as she watched him. Five more minutes passed, and Hank still sat hunched over his desk with some kind of document opened on the screen. It seemed to her that Hank couldn't type fast enough.

  Annoying.

  She knew though, what might get him to stop. She'd seen it in his eyes often enough, and she knew how to play it when it came to men. They were all the same—all creatures she could mold and bend once she had figured them out. Hank wouldn't be any different. She knew that even without trying.

  After a long sigh, she pushed back her chair from her desk and stood up. As she smoothed her skirt and unbuttoned the top of her cardigan, she reminded herself that the next couple of seconds had a higher purpose. Get Hank to leave, and she'd have Chris all to herself at last. It was a singular goal she didn't mind working toward, not at all.

  "Hank," she said stood a few feet behind him. The poor fool hadn't even sensed her behind him. It was possible that his workload demanded that much attention, but she doubted it. Hank Thomas didn't have the demeanor for upper management or special projects. He'd been relegated to the worker bee role his entire life, and it would take Armageddon for him to climb his way out of it. "Hank. Can I interrupt you for a second?"

  He jumped and spun around in his chair. As predicted, his attention went right to her breasts, which by then had peeked out from loosened cardigan. "Kathryn," he said to them. "What can I do for you?"

  "Not much," she said, and propped her arm up against the divider nearest his cubicle. "I'm just worried about you." She nodded at the window. "It's getting bad out there. Very bad."

  "Is it?"

  "It is." She leaned closer to him, her blue bra almost in full view. "It's snowing very hard, and Hank, Chris sent everyone home. He wants people to be safe."

  "I saw the e-mail."

  "So why are you still here?" She pouted at him, knowing he loved it when she did that, too. She'd seen the glances he sent her way when she did it once at someone else in their office. Hank had the same basic instincts as every other man she'd ever encountered. Sex never lay very far from the forefront of their minds.

  "Work."

  "Work can wait."

  He shook his head. "Not this. This is very important."

  "Nothing's as important as staying safe," she said in her most imploring voice. Not that she cared very much. Well, Kathryn cared, but really just about one thing—the orgasm that waited for her once the office cleared out. "There's already at least an inch of snow on the ground."

  "There is?"

  The sudden interest in his voice told Kathryn she was getting somewhere. Still, she bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling in triumph. "I just saw a few posts on Twitter that predicted two inches on the ground within the next hour."

  "Really?" Hank glanced back at the work on his computer. "You really saw that?"

  "I did." By the time he’d turned around, she'd moved from the cubicle divider to the side of his desk, which she perched on like a bird, balancing in such a way that the slit in her black skirt showed off the top of her thighs. "You live north of the city, in Mason, right? Snow can be horrible to drive in."

  "Awful," he said, still ogling her with his mouth slightly open and desire in the back of his eyes.

  He nodded and stood up, but not without first giving her toned legs a lingering look. "You're right, I should head home. The wife . . . she'll . . ."

  "She'll what?"

  "She'll flip if the snow starts falling hard and I'm not home. And trust me, you don't want to see her mad. I better take your advice."

  "Good idea." Kathryn braced her arms on the edge of the desk again, this time making sure the action pushed her breasts together. "And I wouldn't want you getting hurt out there on the road. Or stranded." She paused. "Or worse."

  "Good point." Hank grabbed his coat from the back of his desk chair and fiddled with the mouse until the computer shut down. "Better to get out ahead of this." He slid his coat on his shoulders.

  "Good idea," she said, but made no move to get up from the desk, and that's when he frowned at her.

  "Aren't you leaving, too?" Hank grabbed a file folder and zipped up his coat. "I mean, I don't want you to get stuck here, too."

  "Oh, I'll be leaving in a minute." She stood up from Hank's desk and gestured at her own. "Just a few more things to take of before I go."

  Hank's eyes widened. "You don't have a long drive, do you?"

  "Oh no." Kathryn shrugged and took two steps toward her own desk. Then she stopped and turned around slowly, knowing somewhere inside of her that Hank had just admired her ass, the same ass that used to remind an old boyfriend of a ripe, juicy watermelon. "It's only a block or two."

  "You moved downtown?"

  As if that were ever Hank's business. She almost snorted at the idea, but managed to hold herself back. "I've lived downtown for about a year. I have a little loft over on 6th."

  "That's not far from here. Let me drive you."

  "No, Hank, I can't let you do that." She jerked her head toward the wall. "You're the one with the forty-five minute drive. At least. Probably longer."

  "You're probably right."

  "Go home," she said, then arched her body to give him one last view of her large breasts. Almost there. She was almost there. A few more lines of mindless conversation and Hank would be out the door, leaving her free to walk into Chris's office to get that orgasm. The thought alone made her even wetter than Chris's tone of voice had earlier. It wouldn't be long now. "Your wife's waiting."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Never been surer," she said. "Go home, Hank, before the snow falls much harder."

  He looked down at his watch. "You're right."

  Then he took a step toward the door. She watched him in a pained silence, almost willing him with all the energy in her body to get out the door. A few more breaths, a few more seconds, and she'd be home free.

  Come on. Come on. Come on . . .

  "Good night, Kathryn," Hank said as he reached the office front door. "As long as you're going to be safe getting home."

  "I'll be safe."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes, Hank," she said, working as hard as she could to conceal her exasperation. "I'll be perfectly safe."

  Once he disappeared out the front door, she let out a long, loud sigh and propped herself up on one of the cubicle dividers. At last, she and Chris had the office to themselves. No more nosy and annoying coworkers to get in her way. It might have been snowing hard outside, but she had no intention of leaving until she'd been fucked to oblivion. She'd waited far too long for another chance with Chris's hard cock; the time since Palm Beach had built up a tension inside of her that threatened to burst every time she walked in to KRB Public Relations. But now, she'd get what she wanted. She'd fuck, and be fucked.

  When she raised her head and looked over at the window of Chris's office, he was alr
eady standing up at his desk, as if he'd been watching her with Hank the whole time. She couldn't read his expression, but she knew he couldn't be mad at her. He had to be pleased. Had to. She certainly was. Once again, her natural sexual charm had given her exactly what she wanted.

  A beat passed and then Chris motioned for her to come into his office.

  3

  "Interesting conversation?" Chris asked when Kathryn reached the door to his office. Already she noticed that the intensity in his eyes had escalated, and dramatically at that.

  "You might say that."

  He snorted. "Hank never talks about anything interesting. It's not in his DNA."

  "Oh really? Speak for yourself."

  Chris made a move like he wanted to take a step closer to her, but then he hesitated. "You know, Miss Ross, it’s a strange idea—being alone with you in our office like this."

  "Strange? Strange good?"

  "Yes. Strange good." He grinned and cocked his head. "But do you know what will be even better?"

  "What?"

  "You. Naked. On the floor." Another pause. "About to fucking cum."

  A surge of energy pulsed through Kathryn. The idea of having sex with Chris again had been hardly enough to hold her together over the last few hours, and now the idea of it happening in just a few minutes hardened her nipples, made her stomach twist, and wet her panties. She'd never wanted to be more naked, even though the rational part of her mind could hardly explain why. He was devastatingly handsome for sure, with dark eyes and a jaw that could have sliced diamonds. Chris never had anything but a natural tan, and she sometimes wondered if he ever had a bad hair day. If he did, she'd never seen it—not even a hint of it.

  "I don't want to cum until you do," she said.

  "I see." He pursed his lips for a moment as if deep in thought. "And how many times do you want to cum tonight?"

  "As many times as you'll let me," she said, falling into the familiar role. Their night in Palm Beach had taught her a lot about what Chris liked when it came to sex. He liked to be in control, even if just in name. If that got her to an orgasm faster, then she'd stroke his ego as much as possible.