The new chair that Billy managed to have Joseph find for me was like a fucking cloud compared to the thing that I'd been given on arrival at my new post. Why I hadn't thought to request a new one was beyond me, but knowing that he paid attention to my bitching and moaning made me feel- I have no idea what it made me feel, only that I didn't want to put it into words. Not yet. Not now.
Sitting side by side at my desk, matching chairs, I nearly laughed at the picture we would make if anyone walked in. Nearly because Billy's hand found my leg as he read the file in front of him and I lost my place in my own. Shit. Swallowing down the rush of lust that hit me, I shook off the burning feeling, and forced myself to read the first line again. Name, got it, I wrote it down. Date of first dose of Compound V, done. Powers, known and expected progression- Wait.
"Billy?" His fingers were sliding up my pant leg, getting closer to his clear goal, but I was distracted by what I was reading. "Damn it, Billy," I growled, as his finger tap danced on the zipper of my pants.
"What?" He looked up, as though we had an audience to perform for, that would somehow notice that he was focused on the file in front of him, and NOT on how to get his fingers inside my pants.
"I found her," his hand stopped and I shook my head. Meeting his eyes, I saw his had widened. "Listen to this," I gave him the known powers, telling him what the Vought scientists believed that those powers would progress toward. "Sounds like this is her," I read further and let out a colorful string of curse words that would have made anyone other than Billy blush.
"I'm guessing we don't know where she is," a sardonic tone, eyebrow raised as I shoved the file at him. "Fuck. Course they'd lose the cunt that could cause the most fucking damage."
"Damn it," I slammed my fist down on my desk. This wasn't as fucking helpful as I wanted it to be. "Fat lot of fucking good this does us-" I was irritated, and a little horny. Glancing to my side and seeing Billy studying me forced a correction to that observation. A LOT horny. Shit.
"Veronica," I swallowed hard, he ONLY called me that when he was feeling- I felt his hand return to my leg, but this time he used the grip he had to turn my chair to face him. "I think YOU need a distraction." And then his mouth met mine and I sighed into the flavor of Billy Butcher. He pulled away only far enough to tell me what he really liked about the new chairs. "I can sit on mine," and with a yank from both of his hands on my waist, I was off of mine and straddling his lap easily. "And you fit perfectly on top of me." His lips were sliding down my neck, nipping at the skin that was bare above my blouse. "Sit down, you can't be comfortable like that." I was poised above his lap, ample space between us. Using his hands to help me get more 'comfortable', his moan coursed through my body, while my gasp was so loud that I was almost ashamed. "Fuck, Ronnie," and then his lips were on mine again, as his fingers moved higher to work on the buttons of my blouse again.
My shirt was off of me without our kiss breaking, and between the lace of my bra, and the softness of his shirt, I was already on edge. A flick of his nimble fingers and the lace was gone. Who knew a fucking Hawiian shirt could feel so decadent against my sensitive nipples? As his tongue flicked against mine, his fingers kept busy, working on unfastening my pants, and helping me lift my hips and stand long enough for him to rid me of those and my panties. While I was standing, I noticed that he was still fully clothed and that wouldn't do. Tearing his shirt from him and getting his help to undo his own pants, we couldn't wait to let him shuck them totally, he was pulling me back onto his lap and then, like magnets searching for their mates, we were together again.
I was shocked, truly and completely amazed, that the chair didn't squeak, squeal, or at one part of my riding Billy Butcher to shared completion, fall completely the fuck apart. I'd have to thank Joseph, it was a fleeting thought as Billy was forced to cover my mouth with his to keep the entire building from breaking down the door to make sure no one was attacking me. Jesus. This man, rocking into me from below as we both came down from a shattering shared climax, could make me scream without noticing that I was fucking doing it.
I was shaking as he held me, letting me calm down, or so I thought, until my mind fully came back to the present and realized that he was shaking too. Just as undone by me as I was by him. Our eyes, constantly searching for one another's as though we needed proof that we were both real, locked and as our breathing slowed, as the glistening film of sweat that we shared cooled, I wondered what he was thinking. Because if it was anything like what I was, we were truly and completely screwed.
Like clockwork, my phone rang, not the desk, but the cellphone. Glancing at it, I saw it came from a local, but unknown number.
"You wanna answer it?" Billy's voice sounded raw, his fingers sliding down my back, his eyes meeting mine again when I shook my head. "Might be important."
"It's not," I answered, a flash of knowledge coming to me. "It's just the highest bidder." His hands went still on my back, and I felt his thighs tense at the reminder.
"That's right," he forced his lips into a smirk, and I could tell that it was hard work. "Almost forgot that you've been bought and paid for, Doc." Shit.
Feeling like our moment had passed, the phone had gone to voicemail during it, I took a deep breath and stood up. Turning my back to him, I handed him his shirt as I started pulling my own clothing back on. I wasn't sure why he was bothered by it, and I knew he was, he'd called me 'Doc' after all. He knew, hell he'd teased me about the fucking auction and insisted I go.
I was buttoning my shirt when the desk phone rang, since Billy was fully dressed (the joys of being a man who hadn't needed to completely strip) he answered it.
"Doctor Taylor's office," he didn't meet my eyes, and I knew something had switched, but fuck if I knew what it was. "Ah, yes, she is here, John was it?" Billy's tone had changed, from shut off to- Oh fuck, I knew which John he must be talking to, and I wanted to kill my mother. "She's in the middle of fixing her lipstick, got a bit mussed during lunch, well dessert." I shook my head and started to move so I could take the handset, but Billy moved away, eyes finally meeting mine in challenge. "You know how women are, Johnny Boy, they get so hungry for what they really fucking want and the makeup is the first to suffer." My mouth was open and he had the nerve to wink at me. "She mentioned that you had to buy a date with her, for charity of course." His tone insinuated that the charity was John needing a date and I bit my lip. "That's Ronnie, always giving to the less fortunate." I looked longingly at my stapler and his grin grew. "Look at that, I think she's got herself back to sorts, I'll hand ya over to her now." Fucker.
He cupped the handset so John couldn't hear him and stared down into my eyes. "He gets ONE meal, but I get dessert, Ronnie, understood?" Gulping, I nodded, and he handed me the phone. Shit, fuck, shit.
"Hello?" I sounded breathless because I was, and I had an avidly watching audience. "Yes, Mother said you'd be calling." Try as I might, I couldn't drop my gaze from Billy or turn away. "Friday night? I leave work at-" Billy held up a hand that showed fingers numbering at least two hours after I would normally go home. I gave that time to John and Billy nodded in approval. "I'd rather meet you at the restaurant, if you don't mind." A smile from Billy told me I chose well, and after confirming a place and a time an hour after I 'got home', I hung up. "What the-" Billy's lips claimed mine, kissing the questions and curiosity out of me.
"Two hours to make sure that John knows precisely how charitable that date he bought really is," my stomach clenched at the thought of how Billy planned on doing that. "I'll drive you to the restaurant, and then, when you're finished I'll meet you outside." Shit. "I don't like sharing, Doc."
I couldn't argue with him, even though I had about fourteen lines of 'just you wait a minute, bucko' going in my head. Not when he was cupping my chin more gently than his words would suggest. I couldn't argue with him when his eyes were locked on mine or when his lips brushed against mine in more sweetness than any human being would think William Butcher capable of. And knowing that I couldn't fight back, not in this, scared me to my fucking core.