Now we’re back on track, with minimal loss of efficiency. But still, this is the fourth bug in as many days and we need to make a decision on which bid to go with soon. We have to be able to prove the RISC chips are a reliable choice now, this week, if we’re going to stay on deadline.
I’m just about to go for some more coffee when my phone buzzes.
I smile when I see it’s a text from Miranda.
Then I read it and my entire body goes stiff. Including my cock.
I’m in the alley outside your building. Come find me.
I immediately press the intercom button on my desk phone. “Malik, you take it from here. I’ll check back in tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Malik sounds surprised. Usually I wouldn’t leave when we’re under pressure like this, but we’ve already coded the workaround for this bug and there’s nothing to do unless something else crops up. And I suddenly have a can’t-miss meeting in the back alley.
I hang up and grab my coat and am at the elevator in a minute flat.
The elevator takes about ten million fucking years getting to the ground floor but finally I’m jogging around the side of the building.
It’s chilly and has been dark for hours so there’s no one else around, especially since it’s the weekend.
Our offices are on the outskirts of downtown so there aren’t a lot of people walking by, either.
The back alleyway is empty.
Except for her.
Jesus Christ, what is she wearing?
Or should I say, not wearing?
Is it even Miranda? There’s a light on the back of the building but it’s casting such long shadows, I can’t make out any of her features.
There’s still plenty I can see, though. The woman has on some high as fuck heels and a skirt so short it almost looks like she’s barely got anything on.
Her top isn’t much better. It’s cut so low her tits are all but spilling out and her only concession to the cold is an obnoxious pink fur cape draped over her shoulders.
She’s leaning against the back of the building with one of her legs propped up, knee out, and she’s smoking a cigarette. I didn’t even know she smoked. She couldn’t look more like a hooker if she tried.
I’m still not sure it’s Miranda as I slowly approach.
Not until she turns her head languorously at the sound of my footsteps on the pavement.
She blows out a long puff of smoke and then throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with the toe of her pointy heel.
She starts in my direction.
“Miranda?” I call out, my brow furrowing. I still can’t tell if it’s her or just some working girl who decided to take a break in the wrong alleyway.
The way she sways her hips as she heads my way makes it clear she’s looking to sell, whether it’s Miranda or not.
“Jesus,” I whisper, averting my eyes in case it’s not Miranda. I only look back when she’s closer.
Thank fuck. It is Miranda.
I relax. But only for a second. Because she stomps straight up to me and rears back, then slaps me with what feels like as much force as she can muster.
“What the fuck?”
She pulls her arm back like she’s going to try it again and I grab her wrist midair.
She struggles in my grasp and swings her other hand but I catch it, too. She hisses and fights like a wildcat in my grasp.
“I don’t care if you’re some rich bastard and I’m just a whore. You can’t just take me any time you want and then throw me away.”
I’ve never envisioned a scenario quite like this but it’s hot as fuck and the idea that Miranda has come here to play instantly has me hard as fuck.
I jerk her close to my chest by her wrists and shove my erection against her stomach before whispering in her ear, “Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a whore, I wouldn’t treat you like one.”
Her eyes flare. “Get the fuck off me,” she whispers, shoving against my chest.
I only grin at her.
Oh she came here to play all right.
“I don’t think you mean that, baby,” I say, and then I lift her with one arm around her waist and drag her deeper down the alley way, into the shadows.
“You fucking bastard,” she hisses. “Goddamned fucking bastard.”
I slap her ass. Hard.
And then I shove her face first up against a huge metal recycling bin that’s as big as a dumpster.
“Maybe I’m tired of you giving it up to anybody who’ll pay for it.” I shove my cock against her ass. “How many men you fucked today?”
She turns her head and laughs in my face. “I don’t know. I lost count.”
I slam my hand against the metal of the bin. It feels too fucking good to let the leash off the beast.