Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) Read online

  Grace looked at Owen, her eyes wide with disbelief. Bragging to his coworkers about what happened wasn’t like him at all, but their boss clearly knew all about their rendezvous Friday afternoon.

  “I requested that time off and arranged for someone to cover both Owen and myself weeks ago,” she said. “We had plans for our anniversary. It wasn’t a secret.”

  Okay, maybe she’d misled human resources by leaving out the part about wanting a couple hours of really dirty sex with her husband, but she’d been up front about the fact that it was their tenth anniversary when she’d requested the time off.

  Ziegelski turned his beady eyes on her, acknowledging she was in the room for the first time. “I wasn’t talking to you, now, was I?” he asked, lips pulled back, teeth bared.

  She watched her husband pale and his mouth press into a tight line.

  “Let it be known that you’re both walking on thin ice as of this moment,” Ziegelski said, looking her over with disgust. “One more slip-up from either of you and you’ll both be gone.” He looked back at Owen. “Do you understand?”

  “Got it,” Owen told him through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll be looking into getting you a new secretary,” he added to Owen.

  “I’m fired?” Grace asked, incredulous.

  “Not fired. Not yet.” He was talking to Owen as though she wasn’t in the room again. “She’s being moved to another office where you’ll both be less tempted to participate in any more inappropriate behavior.”

  “There’s no need for that.” Owen was using that calm, assertive voice that always made her want to drop to her knees before him no matter where she heard it.

  She watched Ziegelski blink and wondered if he knew what he was seeing in her husband’s eyes that made him pause and back down the barest fraction of an inch. Wet heat pooled between her legs and her nipples tingled despite the highly inappropriate circumstances. She loved seeing the effect that voice had on others almost as much as she loved it directed it at her. Almost, but not quite.

  “We both fully understand that we made a mistake,” Owen continued, taking another step toward his boss as he pulled himself up to his full, impressive height. “It was a one-time lapse in judgment. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  She could have sworn the boss’s eyes widened with something that looked a whole lot like fear for just a moment.

  “You get one more chance.” Ziegelski’s eyes flickered to her. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  “We won’t, Sir,” Owen said, faking every passive syllable.

  Ziegelski left the door open when he stalked out.

  “Fucking Sanders,” Owen muttered, nostrils flared and eyes bright with anger.

  “What does Dean have to do with this?” Grace asked, thoroughly confused.

  He sighed, deflating a little. “He was at the urinal next to me when I went to the bathroom after your surprise anniversary gift.” He looked at her pointedly and added, “I was still wearing your lipstick.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

  Dean Sanders was infamous for putting his considerable assets on display in the men’s locker room of the executive gym. He was also notorious among a select few of his peers for sneaking a peek while at the urinal to see if anyone else’s dick measured up. It was strange but harmless. And Owen, who was entitled to a whole lot of bragging rights himself, had just sort of gotten used to it.

  Owen gave her a smile that vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

  “I know he’s gunning for Lantz’s partner spot when he retires, but I had no idea he would stoop to something like this to make sure he knocked me out of the running.” He looked out the open door, thinking.

  Grace shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

  “Maybe I’ve underestimated him.” He shrugged casually but she could clearly see the disappointment in his eyes. He considered Sanders a friend. “Maybe it wasn’t beneath him to throw me under the bus the first chance he got.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s pretty risky. I know all about him and Stacy.”

  “Yeah, but if you go to Ziegelski about it now it’s just going to look like retaliation,” he said, nodding to Tim Greenburg as he came in the office. “And you’re not like that.”

  She gave him a look that made his eyebrows go up.

  “Grace,” he warned, clearly seeing she was already hashing out a plan.

  “You know, seeing the old man go all red in the face over a blowjob just makes me want to do it again,” she said, quietly so Tim wouldn’t hear, then added, “right now.”

  Owen’s cool, controlled look didn’t change one iota with Tim in the room, but she very clearly saw the effect her words had on him in the dilation of his pupils.

  “I’ll be right back with the coffee,” she told him sweetly and peered around him. “You still on your tea kick, Tim?”

  “God, no.” He smiled. “I’ll take the good stuff today. The stronger the better.”

  “You got it.” She straightened out of his line of sight and gave her husband a private wink. “Be right back, Sir,” she whispered.

  He looked mildly amused—a huge improvement over the surly mood he’d been in most of the weekend—and touched his fingertip to her mouth in lieu of a kiss.

  * * * * *

  “I don’t think it was Sanders,” Grace said, settling onto the couch.

  Owen stopped rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and looked at her. He was so tired he hadn’t bothered to turn the television on and it was fifteen minutes into one of his favorite shows. After soccer practice, he and the kids had worked on cleaning some more of the previous owner’s junk out of the barn. Part of it was being converted into an indoor play area so the boys could get out of the house when they were wound up during rain or snowy weather.

  “What makes you think that?” he asked, taking the cold beer she offered him.

  “I asked Stacy to lunch today.” She shifted sideways and tucked her toes under his thigh. “Sanders was in his office with the door open, and he was his usual, flirty self.” She shook her head, thinking. “I don’t know, Owen. I’d think if he was the one who’d gone to Ziegelski he’d be acting differently.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Flirty?”

  She gave him an impatient look. “You know how he is.”

  The eyebrow dropped and he nodded before taking a long pull from his beer. She watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed.

  “He’s just not acting any differently,” she continued.

  “He’s a great showman. Have you ever seen him with clients? Each and every one of them is his best friend in the world while he’s talking to them. He pulls it off like no one I’ve ever seen.” His head dropped onto the back of the couch and he closed his eyes. “I’m sure he’s no different with his real friends.”

  She watched him silently for a moment. The idea of Sanders going to the boss was clearly eating at him. He’d thought they’d become friends, despite the fact that they were both teammates and direct competitors for that partner position at the office.

  Owen didn’t trust easily. In his mind, being betrayed by someone he considered a friend was one of the worst offenses one person could commit against another, and a blow he would not take lightly or get over any time soon. The man could hold a grudge.

  “I wouldn’t write him off so quickly,” she warned, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table as she slid down far enough to rest her head on the high arm of the couch. “There may have been pillow talk, and someone else’s loose lips might have slipped.”

  He opened his eyes a crack and slid her a sideways look.

  “Stacy is definitely up to something,” she added. “She couldn’t look me in the eye when I was talking to her today. And she wouldn’t go to lunch with me, even after I shot down her no money excuse by offering to pay.”

  One corner of his mouth curled, amused. “Did you think she wa
s just going to rat out her boyfriend over salads?”

  “Of course not.” She pulled one foot free and poked him in the thigh with her big toe. “I don’t know what I was hoping to find out. I guess I thought she might slip up and tell me something, even if she didn’t really know what she was telling me, if she’s really that close to Sanders.”

  He sighed. “I think we’re thinking about this way too much.” He covered her foot with his hand, squeezed and started massaging the arch with his thumb.

  “It was a shitty thing to do, even if it was minor in the grand scheme of things.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It happens. I guess I was wrong to think small-city corporate was going to be any different than big city.” His fingers slipped around the inside of her ankle and up her calf. “I don’t want to think about it any more today.”

  She had to admit she was pretty tired of thinking about it as well. Her body started to tingle despite the long day as his fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh.

  “Don’t you dare start anything you’re too tired to finish, mister,” she warned as they moved higher. Even as she said the words, she could see his cock growing long and hard within his jeans.

  Both eyebrows went up this time. “When have I ever?”

  She gave him a dry look. “Do you really want a detailed account?”

  The eyebrows slammed together. “Do you really remember actual occasions?”

  She giggled, then gasped, then moaned as he found her without underwear beneath the short leg of the cutoff sweatpants she’d stolen from him and turned into pajamas.

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?” he asked, lightly sliding his fingertips up the crease on the inside of her thigh.

  Her pussy instantly filled with heat and wet, opening for him.

  “Owen, the boys,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and put the beer on the end table. “They’re dead asleep.”

  She rolled her leg to the side as he parted the lips of her sex and slipped just the tip of his middle finger inside her, circling her opening.

  “Take those off and come here,” he said quietly, easily slipping into assertive mode as he used the slick tip of his finger to circle her clit.

  Her back arched as she angled herself into the touch and her nipples pulled tighter.

  He used his free hand to unbutton his pants and pull his zipper down. She watched, heat flushing her chest, neck and face at the sight of him stroking his thick length as he freed his cock from his underwear.

  “Come on, baby,” he whispered, the tip of his middle finger fluttering over her clit.

  Grace stood and shucked her shorts while he pushed his jeans and underwear down over his hips. She was more than ready for him as she straddled his hips and angled herself over his cock, still clutched tightly in his own hand.

  The moan that poured out of him as she sank fully to the hilt ripped through her entire body. Exhaustion was instantly replaced by the adrenaline rush of being filled to more than capacity. She rose up and came back down, her own back arching and her self-control snapped, gone.

  “Yes, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth as she rolled her hips in a tight circle, grinding her aching clit against him where the root of his cock met his pelvis.

  He shifted his ass toward the edge of the couch, bringing her arms to rest on the back and her ass up in the air. He fucked upward into her fast and furious, the angle of his cock hitting all the right spots and his body slamming into her clit on each thrust.

  She had no idea how long it lasted, all she knew was that she was wild with it in an instant. When it was over, her entire body was tingling with the aftereffects of the orgasm that had gone screaming through her and she was collapsed on top of him, smothering his face with her tits.

  “Don’t go,” he breathed, holding her in place so she could only shift backward when she moved to get off him. “Not yet,” he said, lifting the hem of her t-shirt high enough to kiss her still-peaked nipple.

  She shivered and they both groaned as the movement caused an aftershock. She braced herself, her hands on either side of his head, as he kissed her other nipple. Her hips rocked reflexively as he flicked it with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth.

  “It’s late and we have another long day tomorrow,” she told him, her body already recovering and getting ready for more. “We should go to bed.”

  He hummed deliciously against her skin. His cock, still inside her and not completely soft, stirred. “In a minute,” he murmured against her skin. He pulled the t-shirt off over her head and gripped the breast he wasn’t lavishing with his mouth.

  “Jesus, Owen,” she gasped, overcome. “What’s gotten into you lately?”

  They had a healthy sex life, even when they went awhile without playing out a scene. Except for the times she’d been recovering from giving birth to the boys or if one of them was down sick, they rarely went a week without making love. He’d been after her like a man possessed since their anniversary.

  “Legs around my waist,” he ordered, helping her get them around him without breaking their connection.

  With her holding tightly to him, he shifted until they were lying on the couch together, him buried inside her as he took her mouth, his tongue plunging deep, making her breathless again in a heartbeat.

  She shoved at his jeans as far as she could with her hands, then used her feet to push them off his legs, then held on tight as he fucked her out of her mind. Again.

  Chapter Five

  Owen was in the barn when he heard the pickup truck pull into the driveway.

  He checked his watch. One of the things he liked about Brad Miller, aside from being a low-key, easygoing guy and a good soccer coach to Ian, was the fact that he was always on time.

  He was there to pick up the old shelving Owen and Grace had pulled out of the old pantry. During one of the many conversations they’d had about the renovations Owen wanted to make to their old house, it came out that one of Brad’s hobbies was refurbishing old wood into things like rustic picture frames, tables and bookcases.

  Brad’s son Adam, who’d quickly become Ian’s best friend when they first moved to the area, practically tumbled out of the passenger door the instant the truck came to a stop. Owen waved to Brad as he got out of his truck, the boys flying past him so Ian could show Adam the play area they were working on in the barn.

  “We’re converting a couple of the old horse stalls and the pigpen into places where they can play,” Owen explained as Brad approached.

  Brad nodded. “No plans for a horse?” he asked with a half-smile.

  Brad and his wife Laura were farmers. They grew wheat, corn and soy as their main source of income. They were also almost completely independent of having to shop at the grocery store. They raised a cow and chickens for slaughter and froze the meat that sustained them all year, and Laura grew and canned all of their own vegetables in her garden. They’d also recently adopted a second retired racehorse.

  Grace had become friends with Laura, who was in charge of the grade school soccer program, through signing the boys up for sports. He loved that she’d been inspired to plant a garden and was going to learn to preserve what they grew, but he had to admit he was relieved she wasn’t remotely interested in raising meat or adopting horses.

  “I suppose if I had a daughter there might be a pony in my future,” he answered with a laugh. “I’m just going to have to worry about dirt bikes and snowmobiles.”

  Brad shifted and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking oddly uneasy.

  “Those boards are still in the basement,” Owen said, changing the subject.

  Brad looked at him as though he’d forgotten why he was there.

  “Right,” he said, and looked down at his feet a moment.

  “Come on in.” Owen headed for the house. “Grace is down there putting primer on the pantry walls now.”

  “How’s the floor look?” Brad asked, following.

  He’d s
uggested a contractor he knew and trusted when Owen told him he wanted to reinforce the old foundation and drop the floor in one of the low-ceilinged rooms.

  “Mike was a great recommendation. I’m sure I’ll use him again.”

  Brad nodded and looked pleased, albeit distracted.

  Owen led him through the kitchen to the basement. The pantry—or rather what Grace thought was going to be a pantry—was just to the left of the staircase. She had the short, wide basement window open with a stand-up fan on a table to blow the fumes outside. She was facing away from them, singing along with Led Zeppelin’s Going to California playing on the classic rock station.

  She let out a little whoop of surprise when she noticed them in the doorway.

  “Hey, Brad,” she said, laughing a little as she set the paint roller in the tray and turned the radio off. Owen watched a little crease flicker then disappear between her eyebrows. He looked at Brad, who was looking at her with an expression he didn’t much care for. “What do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the walls.

  It took Brad a moment to look around.

  What the hell was going on? They’d known the Millers almost as long as they’d lived there and he’d never once caught him looking at Grace that way before.

  Although, in the black tank top and jean shorts she was wearing, her feet bare and bright hair in a ponytail, he’d been doing a lot of looking at her that way himself.

  “It certainly doesn’t look like it’s going to be your usual dingy pantry,” Brad said after a heartbeat, looking down at the two steps that led into the room and around the perimeter of the floor. “What color are the walls going to be?” he asked Grace.

  She looked at Owen. “I think we’re just going to stick with white?” She nodded when Owen agreed then looked back at Brad, smiling. “We’re going with white.”

  They weren’t going with white, but she’d find that out in time.

  “Those boards are stacked over here,” Owen said.

  When all the old pantry shelves were loaded into the back of Brad’s truck, Brad closed the tailgate and gave Owen another strange look.