Miranda herself didn’t remember Maude. Which wasn’t surprising. She employed a bunch of people. I doubted she knew every single person’s name, let alone why they left the company.
Cam might have more of a clue since had a firm finger on the pulse of the entire company. But I wasn’t about to bother him on his day off. He already worked too damn hard. And she was safe with him and me for the day, so it wasn’t like putting it off was going to put her in harm’s way.
“What?” Miranda asked as she came out of the bathroom after getting ready for lunch.
How could I explain to her that it seemed like a small transformation had taken place for her? She was always a very formal, business-style dresser. Even at home. She liked her outfits that could easily go from a board room to out to dinner without requiring she change.
And she almost never had her hair down, always preferring that sort of stern-looking bun.
But for lunch? Her hair was down, dancing around her shoulders as she moved.
And she’d opted for a soft, feminine dress.
It was autumnal with its deep green, blue, maroon, and gold vertical stripes with a bit of a plunging neckline, but a long hem where her high-heeled brown boots could be seen.
She just looked… casual and at ease.
“You look beautiful,” I told her since I couldn’t easily put all that other shit into words.
“Thanks,” she said, her smile sweet. “It’s probably a little cold for a dress,” she said. “Especially since I didn’t put leggings or stockings on.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, tossing aside my paperwork to climb off the bed and make my way toward her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but the wicked little smile that was tugging at her lips suggested she knew what the look in my eyes was saying to her.
“I think you should start wearing a lot more skirts,” I told her as I got closer.
“Really?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Why is that?”
“You know, I don’t think it will make much sense if I tell you. I think I should probably show you,” I told her.
“That might be a good idea. I am a bit of a hands-on learner,” she told me.
“I can help with that,” I agreed, reaching down to bunch up her skirt, watching as her face went from amused to turned on as my hand slid between her thighs, pressing against the material of her panties.
My fingers slipped inside the material, working over her clit until she was writhing and whimpering for more.
“Brock, please,” she begged as her hand rubbed against my cock through my thin pants.
“Here,” I demanded, reaching for her hand, and placing it between her thighs, replacing my own. “Work your pussy for me,” I demanded, then took a step back to watch before moving out of the room and heading back into mine to fish more condoms out of my bag.
With the way things were going with her, I was going to need to stash the damn things all over her place.
When I came back in the room, I found her with her head back against the wall, tipped up to the ceiling, her eyes closed as she rubbed her clit.
My cock was straining watching her work herself.
I took advantage of her distraction, pulling down my pants, and putting on the protection before moving forward to press my hand over hers as my lips went to her neck, not wanting to fuck up the lipstick she’d already applied.
“Brock, please,” she whimpered as I pulled her panties down her legs.
“Please what?” I asked, my teeth nipping her earlobe.
“Please fuck me,” she said, making my cock twitch at her words.
Reaching down, I grabbed her leg, pulling it wide, and pinning it to the wall before I slammed inside of her.
Hard.