Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

M ichael’s voice was a low whisper, barely audible over the hiss of the coffee machine. “I’d like to see you in the copy room.”

Startled, I nearly spilled hot coffee over my hand. I glanced at him, my heart racing.

“Now?” I asked, my voice catching as I set down the cup.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ve been rock hard for you since you left last night.”

My stomach twisted with a mix of anticipation and unease. I knew what he wanted, but I couldn’t help but question the absurdity of it. “What the hell can we do in the copy room?”

Michael’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “I can think of a few things. Meet me there in five minutes.”

His hand brushed my ass as he walked away, and I felt a thrill rush up my spine. I watched him go, his stride confident and unapologetic. We’d been at this for two weeks—two weeks of sneaking around, and all the while, I was still seeing Slade. They were polar opposites—Slade, sweet and tender, and Michael, the one who pushed me to my limits, made me feel more alive, more powerful.

I dumped my coffee into the sink, suddenly uninterested, and took my time washing the mug, the seconds dragging. My pulse thrummed in anticipation, even though I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Two men, neither aware of the other, and both hooked on me. It was intoxicating. I wielded an unspoken power over them—rich, successful men who were all but eating out of my hand. But I had to keep the balance. Each time I slipped away from one, I had to make excuses for why I couldn’t be with the other.

I justified it. Men had done it for years—why couldn’t I?

The five minutes felt like an eternity, but when my watch finally ticked over, I slipped down the hall. My hand trembled slightly as I grasped the handle of the copy room door. I opened it slowly, heart pounding in my chest.

Michael sat inside, his legs spread, his erection straining against his blue pinstriped slacks. He didn’t bother to hide the hunger in his eyes.

“Lock it,” he ordered, his voice low but commanding.

“This is nuts,” I muttered, my hand hovering over the lock.

“Do it,” he growled.

The click of the lock felt final, trapping me in the space with him. His eyes darkened, and before I could process it, he was on me, his mouth crushing mine in a fevered kiss. His hands were rough, palming my breasts through my blouse, while his body pressed me against the cool wall.

He grabbed my wrist, guiding my hand to his hardness. I stroked him through the fabric, feeling a rush of heat between my legs.

“What’s your end game, Michael?” I whispered breathlessly.

“I’d like to fuck you here,” he said, his voice a low rasp against my ear. “But I’ll settle for making you come.”

“And what about you?” I asked, my fingers tracing the outline of his arousal.

“You’ll make it up to me tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine.

I pulled back slightly, shaking my head. “I can’t tonight. I have plans.”

He paused, his grip loosening as he stared into my eyes. “Plans?” His tone was sharp, suspicious.

“I’m meeting a friend for drinks,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Then come after.” He wasn’t letting this go.

I exhaled, feeling the tension rise between us. “It might be late. I’ll probably be out for a while.”

His expression hardened, and he stepped back, releasing me. “You can say no if you don’t want to spend time with me.”

I frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his mood. “Where’s this coming from?”

“This isn’t the first excuse I’ve heard from you,” Michael said, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought we were keeping this casual, but you’re acting like it’s something else.”

I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance. “Are you jealous or something?”

“Are you seeing someone else?” His voice was calm, but the accusation in his words was unmistakable.

“No. Why would you think that?” My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady.

He studied me, his gaze piercing. “I’m falling for you. If you’re not on the same page, I need to know.”

I froze, guilt tightening in my chest. I wasn’t ready for this, for the expectations, for the emotional weight of his words. I needed more time to juggle them both, to keep up this charade. “Michael, I don’t fall that easily. Give me some time.”

It was the same lie I’d told Slade, the same line I used to string him along while I indulged in Michael. How long until one of them figured it out?

Michael’s jaw clenched. “I’m an impatient man. You know this.”

“I know you’re used to getting your way,” I said, my voice laced with both frustration and teasing.

Michael smirked, not denying it. “I won’t deny that I do. I just want to know there’s a chance.”

“There is,” I admitted softly. “Try to be patient with me. My body is in it, but my heart and head... they need time to catch up.”

He nodded, but I could see the impatience flickering in his eyes. “We should go back to work.”

I pouted, leaning in closer. “I thought you were going to make me come?”

His chuckle was low, rumbling in his chest. “You’re very greedy when it comes to orgasms.”

“Well, you give them so good.” I met his gaze, daring him to deny me what we both knew I wanted.

Michael's lips twitched, but he stayed firm. “Waiting will make it better. Your gratification will be worth more.”

I huffed, folding my arms. “You’re denying me? I can always go to the bathroom and get myself off.”

The second the words left my mouth, a wave of embarrassment hit me. I wasn’t serious. There were probably women who did that kind of thing, but not me. The thought of it made my cheeks flush hot.

Michael’s eyebrow shot up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Do it,” he said, his voice like a challenge. “And come to my desk when you’re done.”

My heart stuttered. “Whatever for?”

“I love seeing your pink cheeks and that satisfied look after you’ve come.” His voice dipped lower. “Now go. And don’t lie, because I’m very familiar with how you look after coming.”

Panic twisted in my gut. I’d painted myself into a corner, and now I had to figure out a way out without losing face. “You can’t be serious. You want me to go back to work without washing my hands?”

Michael leaned in, his lips grazing my ear. “I like your scent. And if I want to smell it, I’ll summon you.”

“You’re mad,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “You could just touch me yourself if you want my scent on your fingers.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He stepped back, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’d much rather watch your cheeks flush with embarrassment.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Why don’t you get a real office? With walls and a door?”

Michael grinned. “For what? Dirty, little, afternoon trysts where I bend you over my desk?”

“Exactly.” I shot him a look, hoping to steer the conversation away from this ridiculous demand.

Instead, he checked his watch, completely unbothered. “You have an assignment,” he said smoothly. “Ten minutes. That should be more than enough time.”

Before I could protest, Michael walked around me and unlocked the door, letting it swing wide open. He placed the door stop back, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded, as he strolled out of the room.

I stared after him, my mind racing. Was he serious? I knew if I didn’t do what he asked, somehow, some way, he’d know. And the smug satisfaction he’d get from catching me in a lie... I couldn’t bear it.

I was still frozen in place when Clara walked in, oblivious, making a beeline for the copier.

“Hey,” she greeted casually, barely glancing at me as she fiddled with the machine.

“Hey,” I managed to squeak out, desperately hoping she wouldn’t notice my flushed face or my racing heart.

Clara turned toward me briefly, offering a friendly smile. “You okay? You look a little... distracted.”

“Uh, yeah. Just... thinking about some things.”

She gave a nonchalant nod before turning her attention back to the copier. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

I forced a smile, but the moment she left, dread settled in my stomach. Ten minutes. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

"Are you okay? I saw Mr. Elliott walk out of here a few minutes ago. Did he yell at you?" Clara's voice broke through my daze, pulling me back to reality.

I forced a smile, brushing off her concern. "We had a conversation, that's all."

She gave me a sympathetic look. "Don’t get down on yourself. He requires a lot from his staff. It won’t be the last time, I’m sure."

"Thanks." I needed to escape. "Excuse me," I murmured, slipping past her and out into the hallway.

My heart was racing, not from the encounter with Michael, but from the way he had gotten under my skin, lighting a fire inside me that I couldn’t shake. I hurried to the women's bathroom, pushing the door open and scanning the empty room. Ten stalls, all with those cold, stainless-steel doors that reflected my anxious expression back at me.

I headed for the farthest stall, away from any prying eyes. The moment I shut the door, I leaned against the cool tiled wall, my breath shaky. The exchange with Michael had left me wanting, and I needed relief. The wet heat between my legs was unbearable, and I hiked up my black skirt, fingers trembling as they slipped into the soft pink lace of my panties.

A shiver ran down my spine as my fingers found my throbbing clit, circling in rapid, desperate motions. My eyes fluttered shut, every nerve in my body on fire. I could still hear Michael’s voice, still feel the way he looked at me, demanding my submission even from across the office.

It didn’t take long. My orgasm washed over me in waves, quick and overwhelming. My knees buckled, and I sat down on the toilet, breathless. I reached for some tissue, trying to clean myself, but it was pointless. My panties were soaked through.

The shame hit me, but there was no time to dwell on it. I had to face Michael. I straightened my skirt, resisted the urge to wash my hands, and headed to his desk, my nerves buzzing.

When I arrived, Michael was on the phone, casually leaning back in his chair. He didn’t miss a beat, gesturing for me to sit without breaking his conversation. I settled into the black leather chair across from him, trying to appear composed despite the heat still simmering inside me.

His eyes never left mine, even as he rattled off numbers to the person on the other end of the line with complete confidence. He didn’t need to check his laptop, not once. But beneath his calm demeanor, I could see the glint in his eyes, the unspoken power play. He knew what he had made me do.

I squirmed in my seat, still feeling the wetness clinging to my panties, still throbbing for more. Michael’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile as I shifted again, trying to find some relief.

His eyes darkened, and he mouthed a single word. “Stop.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I stilled, biting my lip. My body was betraying me, still aching for him, but I didn’t dare move again.

Finally, Michael hung up, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk, his gaze locking onto mine.

“So,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “did you follow my instructions?”

I swallowed, my pulse quickening. “Yes.”

His smile deepened, dark and dangerous. “Good. Now come here.”

"Miss Kincaid, did you do what I asked?" Michael's voice was low, a dangerous edge to it as he leaned back in his chair, eyes locked onto mine.

I met his gaze, unwilling to back down. "I thought you could tell," I challenged, keeping my voice steady, even though my heart raced.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "I can. I was just wondering if you'd admit it."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. "I did what you asked," I whispered, barely able to get the words out, the tension between us thick.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "And did you wash your hand?"

A shiver ran through me. "You told me not to."

"Which means," he said, eyes darkening with desire, "your intoxicating scent is still on your fingers. I'm hard just thinking about it. Come here."

My pulse quickened, but I glanced around, nerves fraying. "Michael, people can see us."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone commanding. "And I’m giving you an order."

I let out a slow, shaky breath, my heart pounding faster. Every part of me screamed to stay in my seat, but my body had a different reaction. I stood and moved around his desk, feeling the heat between us intensify as I came to stand by his side.

"Put your hand near my screen," he instructed, "as if you're pointing to something."

Swallowing, I bent down and did as he asked, pretending to focus on the blank space of the oversized monitor. Michael leaned closer, his breath hot against my skin as he squinted, pretending to inspect the invisible issue. But I knew what he was really doing—he inhaled deeply, taking in my scent, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"I'd like to fuck you right now," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Do you know that?"

I shifted, heat pooling between my thighs. "I could guess," I replied, voice strained.

He didn’t miss a beat, eyes glinting with mischief. "Perhaps we should leave early."

I shook my head, trying to stay grounded. "I have to finish my work. I need to submit it by the end of the day."

Michael's hand brushed mine, sending a shockwave through me. "Those plans are ahead of schedule. You can finish tomorrow."

Before I could react, he moved swiftly, his tongue darting out to lick my fingers. The sudden, wet heat of it made my breath catch. "Sweet as always," he murmured. "I’d like to bury my head between your thighs."

I jolted back slightly, trying to regain control of the situation. "Michael, this is highly inappropriate at work."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still predatory. "You’re blushing. Are you embarrassed?"

I stood straighter, trying to reassert myself. "Why wouldn’t I be? I thought we were keeping our professional and personal lives separate."

Michael ignored my protest, pressing a button on his phone. "Carmen, Miss Kincaid and I are leaving to check out the Linnerman project. If you need me, call my cell."

His assistant’s voice crackled through the speaker. "Will you be back?"

"More than likely not. It’s almost three now," he replied coolly, then turned his attention back to me. "Get your things."

My stomach tightened. I glanced at his assistant’s desk, a knot forming in my throat. "Michael, I?—"

"Five minutes, Miss Kincaid," he said, his voice sharp, final. "Meet me by the elevators."

Without another word, he stood, buttoning his jacket swiftly, but not fast enough to hide the bulge pressing against his slacks. My mind raced, knowing his desire was teetering on the edge. The thought of pushing him over it, of sending him into a spiral of pleasure, fueled the fire inside me.

I hurried back to my desk, still stealing glances at him as he packed up his briefcase. Stanley, one of my colleagues, gave me a curious look.

"Leaving?" he asked.

"Michael wants to take me to the Linnerman building," I replied, trying to sound casual, though my heart was still racing.

"Will you be back?" Stanley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He says no," I answered, already shutting down my laptop. "Do you need something?"

Stanley shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Brian and I thought you’d like to grab drinks and hang out. You know, we work together, might be nice to get to know each other."

I forced a polite smile. "That sounds great, but not tonight."

"Friday, then?"

I nodded, distracted, as I saw Michael heading for the elevators. "Let’s talk tomorrow," I called over my shoulder, grabbing my purse.

I caught up to Michael just as the elevator arrived. He stepped inside, holding the door open for me.

"Hurry, Miss Kincaid," he said, his voice teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, stepping inside. "Why are you calling me that?"

His eyes gleamed with mischief. "That is your name, is it not?"

The second the doors slid shut, his hands were on me, pressing me against the wall. His mouth found my neck, hot and hungry. "Morgan," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "Is that better?"

I tilted my head back, gasping as his teeth grazed my skin. "You don’t seem to have a problem with my name when we’re having sex," I teased, breathless.

Michael smirked against my skin. "I don’t have a problem, period."

Before I could respond, the elevator dinged on the eighth floor. He pulled back, smoothing his jacket and stepping away as a group of people entered. For the rest of the ride, he acted as if nothing had happened, as if I didn’t exist.

Once we reached the main floor, he placed a firm hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the building and into his waiting car.

"Winston," Michael said as we slid into the backseat, "take us to my apartment."

I glanced at him, biting my lip. "I have a thing tonight," I reminded him.

He gave me a slow, heated smile. "I’ll be done with you in time for your thing."

I raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like a business deal."

"I assure you," he said, his voice low and smooth, "I think nothing of the sort. You’re beautiful, desirable. I’d like to have you to myself."

"You know I can’t give you that… yet."

Michael's eyes softened, but his desire was still palpable. "I know. And I won’t pressure you."

Just then, his phone rang. He answered, the moment broken as he talked business. I stared out the window, watching the city rush by, knowing what awaited me at his apartment.

A few minutes later, he hung up, reaching for my hand. His lips grazed my fingers, his tongue swirling sensually around them, teasing, tasting. The heat of his mouth nearly undid me again.

"Sweet as always," he murmured, his eyes dark with intent.

Michael's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my skin. "I desire you very much."

I met his gaze and replied curtly, "I’m well aware."

A slow grin spread across his face. "You're so confident."

"Shouldn't I be?"

He tilted his head, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Can I talk you out of doing your thing tonight?"

"You want me to blow off my friend?" I raised an eyebrow.

"That's an interesting choice of words." His smirk deepened.

I cocked my head, catching on to his playful tone. "Would you be referring to the word blow?"

"I would. I’d much prefer you blow me."

I rolled my eyes, though my lips twitched. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?"

"Plenty of times," he said, pulling me closer. "Maybe we should enjoy each other orally."

"You don’t want to fuck?" I teased, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He gave a low, appreciative hum. "I always want to fuck, but I love that dirty little mouth of yours on me, too."

I smirked, leaning in just enough so my lips brushed his ear. "You think my mouth is dirty?"

Michael’s hands tightened on my hips. "Well, I’ve heard some pretty naughty words come out of it."

"Would you prefer me quiet and demure?" I whispered, letting my lips barely graze his jawline.

"Not one bit," he murmured, his voice rough. "What a turn on to hear such a sexy mouth spew such profane language. Sometimes it’s all I can do not to come."

His words sent a shiver through me as he pulled me onto his lap. My arms circled his neck, and he nuzzled against my cheek, his scruff grazing my skin—a stark contrast to the clean-shaven look he had that morning.

"Are you convinced?" he asked, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Convinced of what?" I whispered back.

"That you should stay with me tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a near growl.

"Michael," I sighed, "I can't just ditch my friends."

He groaned in frustration, his breath hot against my neck. "If you must." His hands slid possessively down my back. "At least I can enjoy you for a few hours."

I bit my lip, heart racing as I felt his grip tighten. "You always want more, don’t you?"

He chuckled low in his throat. "When it comes to you? Always."