Shit happens.
I was a junior partner in the Crawford and Thompson Law Firm. It was Friday afternoon, and I was trying to clear my desk so I could leave work by 5:00 o'clock. Pete Anderson stopped by my office. Pete is the newest attorney to join the firm. He asked if I could find a file for him before I left for the day.
"You're not working late again, are you?" I asked, simply to be polite. He was in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He looked like he'd been sweating over a project. I knew he was handling the Dixon case, and awaiting a trial date.
Pete settled on one corner of my desk while I crossed the room to the file cabinet. I heard him force out a loud sigh and I turned to look at him.
"I'm cutting my teeth on this case, 'Chonne," he said shaking his head.
Everybody in the office called me 'Chonne, sort of a nickname for Michonne. We all got along well and I had come to think of the members of the firm as my extended family.
"Office gossip says Daryl Dixon is guilty of murder. Do you think he did it?"
He smiled slowly at me and I saw again how devastatingly handsome he was. The recognition almost made me weak in the knees. I hurried to look away, afraid he'd be able, somehow, to read the aroused expression on my face.
"Innocent until proven guilty," he said.
He got up from the desk and walked toward me as I pulled the file he wanted out of the cabinet. When he took it from me, our fingers brushed together. It felt like an electric shock traveling up my arm. I pulled in a quick breath and felt my pulse quicken.
"Are you all right?" Pete asked.
Our eyes met briefly and I saw something similar to interest in his gaze. He reached out one hand and touched my left forearm.
"I'll be done here in a few minutes. Do you have time for a drink before heading home?"
"A drink?" I nonsensically repeated.
He grinned at me. "Sorry. I forget sometimes that you're a married woman."
I blushed profusely and stepped around him, heading back to my desk. "And you're a married man."
He chuckled softly. "Yes. But my wife doesn't understand me. How about your husband? Does he understand you?"
I ignored the question about my personal life.
"We're all friends here, Pete," I said, collecting my courage. Truth was, I'd be going home to an empty house. Rick would be working late again. His kids would be at their mother's house until the weekend. I'd love to have a drink with Pete, if I could gather the courage to accept his offer.
"So there wouldn't be anything wrong with two friends grabbing a beer after work," he said, staring at me.
"All right," I agreed.
Pete promised to hurry with his work and returned to his office. I grabbed my purse and freshened my makeup. Suddenly I felt like I was going on a date and I rationally told myself not to make too much of it. I'd joined other members of the law firm for after work drinks numerous times. But I'd never been alone with handsome Pete Anderson before.
I contemplated backing out of going, but suddenly Pete was there in my office, suit coat on, tie straightened. He was ready to go. He took my coat off the hook near the door and held it for me. Anxiously, I slipped into my coat and picked up my purse. Time was rapidly running out for me to change my mind.
We left the office and rode the elevator down to the street level. When we reached the front entrance of the office building, we saw it was snowing outside. Pete slid one arm around my waist and we pushed through the front door. The Firehouse Bar and Grille was just around the corner. We hurried along the sidewalk, snow flying in our faces.
The closer we got to the bar the more certain I became that I was doing something I might regret, but the feel of the sturdy arm circled around my waist and the long, lean male body pressing against my side fought with my ability to reason. We were covered with snow by the time we arrived at the bar. A blast of heat engulfed us with a sweet welcome. The aromas of grilling steaks and beer lent an atmosphere of familiarity to the tavern.
We settled in a booth near the back of the bar. I brushed at the frosty snowflakes which stubbornly clung to my hair. I felt almost giddy, as though I was on some incredible adventure. It was unreal. The snow. Pete Anderson seated across a small table from me, his deep green eyes accessing my face.
"You're beautiful, 'Chonne," he said. "The snow compliments your skin."
My body trembled at his words. My eyes glanced suddenly to the gold wedding band he wore and I thought of my husband. I couldn't do anything that would hurt Rick.
Pete ordered a beer for himself and a glass of red wine for me.
"I remembered," he said, as he smiled.
"I'm impressed," I replied, picking up the glass of wine.
I should really go home.
We made small talk over our drinks. The weather, work, our hobbies.
"I've taken up golf," he confided. "Word has it that Crawford won't promote anybody who isn't a golfer."
We laughed and ordered more drinks. I was beginning to feel dizzy, the effect of too much wine.
"I should go," I said, staring at him. A part of me didn't want to. I was so relaxed from the wine that I gambled be honest with myself.
"I know," he said. He got up and helped me with my coat. Then he curled his arm around my waist and pulled me against his side.
"This is nice," he whispered in my ear.
I smiled up at him and the most erotic sensations tore through my body. Suddenly I wanted to be in his arms, to press my body, my naked body, against his. My knees almost buckled with the thought. When we left the bar, we headed back to the office building. The parking garage was in the basement and it was still snowing, even harder than before.
"I can't drive in this," I admitted. "I'll have to call a cab."
"I doubt if they're running, but we can go back to the office and call."
We hurried along the sidewalk, getting snow covered again. Luckily, the office building was home to several businesses and unlocked at all hours. We rode the elevator back up to our floor and I went to my desk to find the number for a cab.
"I'll take you home, 'Chonne, if you think your husband won't mind."
The tone of his voice pulled my gaze to him. There was more than mere concern in his eyes. I thought then of Rick, and Pete's wife, Jessie. But only for a moment. As I gazed at Pete, Rick and Jessie didn't seem to be real. That is, they didn't seem to hold any meaning in our immediate situation.
Pete combed one hand through his hair as though deliberating what he was about to say. He quickly crossed the room toward me. I put the telephone receiver back in its cradle. I wasn't calling a cab. I didn't want to go home.
"Pete," I began, rising from my chair.
"'Chonne."
His voice was little more than a whisper as he reached out to me. He traced one finger along my right cheek.
"God! You're beautiful."
"Pete…."
I haven't felt like this in years
I placed my palm against his chest and felt his heart beating. His warmth immediately penetrated my palm. He pulled me against his chest and his mouth came down to cover mine. It was a kiss that began as a soft, tentative attempt to see where I stood on the matter, but immediately turned greedy when I parted my lips for him.
His tongue pushed its way between my lips to overpower my mouth, and Pete made his own happy grunting noise in reply. He growled deep in his throat and thrusted his tongue inside my mouth. We began a sensual play, a waltz of sorts, which sent my emotions soaring.
His kisses were hot and erotic. My whole body felt on fire. I wanted sex. I wanted him.
"'Chonne," he whispered, dragging his mouth from mine.
He started opening my blouse, his fingers shaking as he worked each pearl button through its opening. I raised my hands and started unbuttoning his shirt. There was no turning back now.
His bare chest was soon visible to my eyes and my eager finger skimmed across the smooth expanse. He was quite muscular, I found, though I had guessed he might be. I knew he worked out at a local gym…he'd said so once when a number of us went to the bar for after work drinks.
I quickly shed my shirt and bra. His hands were on my breasts. I bit my lip, the touch of his hands was so delicate on my bare skin. He dipped his head and pulled my left nipple into his mouth.
I could only moan.
He opened the zipper on my skirt and it fell to the floor. I stepped out of my shoes and helped him with my panties, placing my hands on his as he yanked the thong down my hips and thighs. I stood naked before him. His gaze was hot on my skin. His hands brushed my taut nipples and lowered to my belly. When he lightly skimmed one palm across my crotch, I sucked in a quick breath. It felt like I was being touched for the first time.
He took my hand suddenly and led me to the leather couch pushed against the far wall of the office. He pushed me down on it and forced himself on my body. His heat engulfed me. I spread my legs and felt his erection push against my belly. His mouth was on my breasts, lathing my sensitive flesh, wetting my nipples. Spasms of erotic sensations wracked my body. I was allowing a man, someone other than my husband, to claim my body.
But God it felt good. And I wanted it to continue. I wanted him to touch every inch of my flesh, to ignite my passion until I cried out for him to take me. His mouth was so hot. He sucked my breasts, until my nipples were sensitive clusters perched ripe and rosy atop my heaving mounds. Then he dragged his mouth lower on my body, wetting my stomach with his tongue. He left a trail of kisses from my navel, and started moving lower.
I could only moan. I moaned my delight and opened my legs wider, levering one foot to the back of the couch.
"I've been wanting to do this to you since I first saw you," he whispered.
He parted my lips and stroked the tip of his tongue across my clit. I sighed and slid lower on the couch, pushing my crotch against his mouth. I wanted everything he had to offer. His tongue teased me. I closed my eyes and savored every second of his touching. I dug my fingers into his thick dark hair and gently pressed his face into my sweetness.
Suddenly a need blazed inside me, a need I had almost forgotten. I was on the verge of orgasm and I wanted Pete's engorged cock inside me when I came. He hurried to do my bidding, making me smile. I bit my lip, holding the sensations at bay. He positioned himself on his knees between my gaping legs. He grasped my ass in his hands. Raising me upward, he plunged inside me.
He thrusted uncontrollably …exactly as I hoped he would, and all reality seemed to hang suspended in time while I rode the wave of no return.
The hot length of him slid inside me, pumped deeply. His fingers dug into my buttocks, causing a measure of pain that somehow brought further excitement to me. He suddenly brought one hand up to my right breast and squeezed it, terribly hard, making me cry out.
"Do you like it rough, 'Chonne?" he asked, his breath coming in short gasps. "Do you like it rough, baby?"
I panted, a little confused by the pain he was bringing to me. Suddenly I couldn't answer. My climax hit me hard. I bucked my hips, lunging upward to open myself up. I wanted every inch of his cock inside me.
The orgasmic explosion wracked my body. It was a thing of terrible, euphoric beauty. I reached for Pete's hips and dug my nails in, holding on, while the incredible burst of sensations spiraled throughout my body.
Distantly, I felt Pete speed up, his grunts increasing in volume, his breath hot and moist on the side of my neck. All of a sudden, he tensed, back arching, his hips ramming into mine, as if he were trying to bury himself within me as deep as he could.
For one frozen instant, I stared up at him, my brain still foggy with residual pleasure and booze. He looked me in the eye when he came, twitching and spurting warmth inside of me, and his eyes burning into mine.
Later, when the sensations had waned from my body, Pete lay on top of me on the couch. My breathing was still somewhat erratic. His head lay against my breasts and I played lazily with his dark hair. Every so often he tongued my left nipple. I knew he wanted to play some more. And so did I. I'd never enjoyed sex so much. Sex with Rick was like petting a kitten. With Pete it was like wrestling a lion. As Pete went soft and fell out he grappled my mouth with a hungry kiss. Rick would always give me a gentle kiss on the forehead when he was done. I needed this. I smiled and stretched, freeing his head from between my breasts.
I heard a familiar cough. A polite clearing of one's throat to let someone know one was there. While Pete was sucking on my breast I turned my head to see Rick staring at me.
He was white as a ghost, and said he was worried about me driving home in the snow.