One Night with Her Brooding Boss

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHE went quite still. She didn’t want to breathe or move in case she did anything to distract Quinn and make the pleasure stop. Time was suspended as he began to touch her in a more purposeful manner. His movements were leisurely so she had a chance to relish each studied movement. Delicately parting her swollen lips, he touched her with his tongue. Rough tongue, hot flesh, warm breath and the steady but dependable rhythm he set up soon brought her to the edge. ‘Lie still,’ he commanded. ‘Let me do everything. Do you understand?’

She could only gasp something unintelligible in reply. She wanted to keep her focus on Quinn and the pleasure he was bringing her.

He began again.

‘Oh, no, no, no! ‘ she exclaimed, thrashing her head about on the pillows when he stopped. ‘You can’t stop now. Even you couldn’t be so cruel!’

‘Cruel?’ Quinn demanded softly, moving back up the bed. ‘I’m not cruel. You have no idea how considerate I can be—especially when you follow my instructions to the letter.’

‘You are so bad,’ she breathed. ‘But I will. I will…’

The last thing she saw was Quinn’s lips curving and then he was moving down the bed to start again.

‘I can’t hold on,’ she wailed as the tidal wave rushed towards her.

Quinn might have answered; she wouldn’t have known. She bucked convulsively as the first climactic throb of pleasure claimed her, and only heard herself crying out his name when the violent surges of pleasure began to subside. Quinn held her as she writhed beneath his firm touch until she quietened. ‘That was…amazing.’

‘More?’ he suggested.

‘I have to undress you.’

‘You have to? ’ Quinn curbed a grin.

‘Absolutely. Now I know what I’ve been missing. Like you said, I have plans.’

Sitting up in bed with her long, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, she started on Quinn’s belt. She hated the thickness of the leather and the stubbornness of the tine. His erection thrust imperatively against the denim, tantalising her, taunting her, and when she finally released the zip it flew back under enormous pressure. ‘Lift your hips.’ Her voice sounded harsh and primitive, matching the hunger inside her. Inhibitions meant nothing to her now. She was claiming her mate.

Boxers followed Quinn’s jeans to the floor, and only now did she hesitate. Quinn might have prepared her to the point of no return, but seeing him naked like this for the first time startled her. Could she possibly take him inside her? He was so much bigger than she had imagined, more brazenly masculine in every way, and utterly unselfconscious about it. Powerful and virile, this was a man in peak condition, muscular and tanned, and right now he was formidably aroused.

‘Is something wrong?’ he said.

‘I want you.’ She held his gaze, and Quinn knew from her expression that at this point she needed him to take over.

Reaching out, he brushed the hair back from her face. She felt awkward momentarily, even surprised that Quinn would make sliding on a condom part of the love play between them.

‘Can I?’ she said shyly.

She had everything to learn and now was her chance. Covering her hand with his, Quinn guided her.

She had always thought it would be embarrassing to manage the mechanics of love-making but nothing was awkward with Quinn. He was so open about everything it made her feel the same way. And this opportunity to explore him, to feel him beneath her hands, warm, hard, veined and smooth, thick and pulsating.

Closing her eyes, she relished the simple pleasure of touch, but then Quinn brought her down to the bed and she was soon distracted. Their kisses grew in heat until they were tumbling over each other as if no touch or kiss, no tangling of limbs or wild, raw, heated embrace, could ever be enough for them. Quinn’s body was a passport to pleasure and hers was his to use as he pleased.

But right at the moment, when she should have been at her most receptive, the doubts swept back in. Sensing the change in her, Quinn stilled immediately.

She moved away.

‘Are you still afraid I might hurt you? ‘ Bringing her back into his arms, Quinn dropped kisses on her brow, on her eyes and on her lips.

‘I’m more frightened of disappointing you.’

Quinn smiled his reassurance against her mouth. ‘You could never disappoint me. But if you don’t want this…’

‘I definitely want it.’

‘And I definitely want it. So it seems to me we’re riding the same wave here.’

Quinn’s lips pressed down attractively as he cupped her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumb pads. From there his hands continued to soothe as his kisses migrated down her neck to her breasts, and from there to her belly and the inside of her thighs. He moved lower, kissing her ankles as he massaged her feet until she thought she would faint with pleasure, before moving on to caress her calves and lick the back of her knees—a place she could never have imagined held such potential for sensation. ‘Don’t you dare stop,’ she ordered him huskily, linking her hands behind her head as he rested her legs on his shoulders. ‘Do I please you?’

‘What do you think?’ Quinn murmured.

She sighed and pressed against him, pressed against his mouth. She didn’t want to hold anything back. She wanted to experience everything Quinn wanted to give her to the full. And after he’d brought her to the edge again he straightened up to brush himself against her. He teased her with the delicious foretaste of the pleasure to come until she cried out in complaint. His answer to this was to tease her again, drawing himself more slowly this time over each moist and swollen part of her, until she was relaxed enough for him to stretch her with just the tip.

The sensation was so extreme, so good, that when Quinn made to withdraw this time she thrust her hips towards him, claiming him.

The breath shot out of Magenta’s lungs in a rush. She wasn’t even sure if she could take all of him; sensing her shock, Quinn worked some magic with his fingers and, with that and his kisses to distract her, he took control. It was only moments until he inhabited her completely.

Quinn moved and she moved with him, marvelling at the lack of pain, the lack of fear, even though he was stretching her beyond anything she would have imagined possible. He filled her in the most pleasing way, massaging her most effectively, and it wasn’t long before she was working frantically with him towards the inevitable conclusion. Digging her fingers into his buttocks, she pressed her hips down until she was certain that no part of them was left unconnected, and moments later the first spasm hit her. Crying Quinn’s name, she abandoned herself to pleasure, bucking uncontrollably yet registering somewhere in the depths of her mind that her first orgasm with Quinn had just been utterly eclipsed.

It took ages for her to recover and ages for the delicious little aftershocks of extreme pleasure to subside. Quinn rested deep inside her, waiting until he judged her sufficiently recovered, and then he began to move. Rolling his hips slowly from side to side, he brought the hunger back again and the next climax hit her before she even knew it was building. Screaming out his name, she thrust her hips convulsively while Quinn held her firmly in place, making sure she enjoyed every moment of it.

‘You’re spoiling me,’ she managed groggily as he moved to take her again.

‘We’re only getting started,’ Quinn assured her. ‘I’m taking the edge off your hunger.’

‘Taking the edge off! ‘ Magenta laughed, but Quinn confirmed his intentions, dropping kisses on her swollen lips. ‘And when I’ve done that,’ he said, ‘just as I promised I would, I’m going to make love to you.’

‘Haven’t we been doing that? ‘

Quinn’s laugh was low and sexy. ‘Come on, Magenta,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘We both know that neither of us is cut out for a diet of canapés.’

As Quinn was already moving deep inside her she had no intention of arguing with that. Holding her secure in his arms, Quinn was rocking her. ‘Harder,’ she begged him greedily. ‘Take me faster, Quinn.’ Then speech was no longer possible. ‘Hold me!’ she cried out in the last few ecstatic moments.

Cupping her buttocks firmly, Quinn kept her in position as she thrust her fists against his chest. She needed something to brace herself against as her mind was ripped from her body and flung into a world of unimaginable colour and sensation. She explored it to the full, knowing that when she finally quietened Quinn would be waiting to soothe her with reassurances that she was safe.

This was definitely the way forward, Magenta decided, practically purring with contentment as she woke slowly the following morning, thankfully still in the sixties, in Quinn’s huge bed. They had made love through the night and only dawn had interrupted them. At the first faint glimmer of light, Quinn had sprung up and left her side.

Her heart filled when he returned from taking a shower. It was no use pretending this was anything casual. She couldn’t get enough of him—and no wonder. With a towel slung around his hips like a loin cloth, Quinn was quite a sight to wake up to in the morning. He was the full package, she reflected contentedly, easing her sated limbs. Quinn had the body of a gladiator and a mind like a steel trap. He was funny and tender, and had an appetite for sex that knew no bounds. He was the dream lover.

She could so easily make a habit of this, Magenta mused as he strolled towards the bed, drying his wayward hair on a towel.

‘It’s time to get up.’

‘Already? ‘ she complained.

‘Work?’ Quinn reminded her.

‘Work?’ she echoed without any of her usual enthusiasm. ‘Can’t we stay here a little longer?’ For the first time in her life, there was something a lot more important than work—such as being with Quinn. Gazing up into his face, she only found it disappointingly resolute.

‘Work,’ he confirmed, turning on his heels. ‘Take a shower; there’s plenty of hot water.’

Take a shower—alone? Mageneta frowned, wishing she hadn’t heard the distant note in Quinn’s voice. After last night she had expected things to be very different between them.

She waited until she was sure he was busy dressing before creeping out of bed. Grabbing her discarded clothes, she held them in front of her. She felt self-conscious suddenly. Quinn made her feel as if she had overstayed her welcome—a sense that only grew when he asked if she wanted a lift to the office.

If? He hadn’t even turned to look at her yet.

‘I don’t want to be late,’ he explained. Stepping inside his open-plan dressing room, he started the process of selecting a tie. ‘I’ve got a lot on this morning.’

She mustn’t think the worst of him. ‘You’ve called a meeting of the team?’ she guessed hopefully.

‘Yes, I have,’ he confirmed.

If this was an opportunity to get those girls out of the typing pool, she’d forgive him anything. ‘Great. I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she promised, springing out of bed.

She had to be positive about this, Magenta told herself firmly as she stepped into a proper shower beneath steaming spray. She might have known that even in the sixties Quinn would enjoy state-of-the-art plumbing. She had to put her personal feelings to one side and recognise the meeting Quinn had called for the victory it was. And what had she imagined—that Quinn intended to progress their relationship? It was time to get real, time to come to grips with the era in which she found herself, however much that hurt.

But as they drove to the office, and she stared out of Quinn’s car window at the sixties cityscape of concrete and high-rise grey boxes, there was nothing she wanted more than a return to real time, real relationships, and an end to this confusing dream if that was what it was. She had expected to be intrigued by everything she saw. She had also expected to be set free to enjoy a whole new set of rules. What she had not expected was those rules leading her to feel so deeply about Quinn, or to find that sexual freedom came with quite such a heavy price tag.

Quinn remained aloof and unspeaking throughout the journey, while Magenta tried to persuade herself that he was mentally preparing himself for the day ahead. Whatever had happened between them, she was determined to show a bright face at the office. There was enough uncertainty there without her adding to it, and the most important thing she had to do today was to tell the girls the good news.

Magenta felt even more positive when she entered the office to discover that the partition around the typing pool had been removed; Quinn had kept his word. Even if the girls were still sitting in rows typing, at least they could see what was going on around them now. And, most importantly, they felt good about the changes, judging by the smiling faces that greeted her.

Her feelings of elation grew when Quinn invited her and the girls to join his team in the boardroom that morning. She had suspected he might, and had briefed the girls beforehand, urging them to speak out and ignore any slights the men might throw their way. ‘We have to be professional, even if they aren’t,’ she’d warned. ‘If we want Quinn to involve us in the campaign, it’s crucial that we keep emotion out of it. We have nothing to prove in there other than the fact that our ideas are better than theirs.’

‘You bet they are,’ Nancy had agreed. ‘We’re behind you all the way, Magenta.’

One of the girls still made coffee for everyone, Magenta noticed. But she told herself she mustn’t be greedy. Quinn was right in that lasting change took time to implement. One small step at a time would suit her, so long as that step was in the right direction.

She led the way into the boardroom and acknowledged Quinn as if they hadn’t spent the night in each other’s arms.

‘Magenta,’ he greeted her in much the same way. ‘Would you and your team like to sit down? ‘

‘Thank you.’

Ever the gentleman, Quinn remained standing until he and his team had seen all the women comfortably settled around the table. Quinn had clearly briefed his team in advance, as Magenta had, and she took this as a good sign. Quinn had also recognised that nothing could be achieved in an atmosphere of taunts and sneering remarks.

‘Would you care to begin?’ he said. His eyes reflected nothing more than professional interest.

She had to ignore the ache of disappointment inside her and do her job. ‘Nancy? ‘ she prompted. ‘Would you like to begin by explaining what we have here on the easels?’

Magenta had never wanted to hog the limelight, and couldn’t help but be thrilled by the audible gasp of surprise from the men when Nancy revealed the team’s first idea. Vivid, graphic imagery and clever text was a winning combination—no one could deny it, not even the men around the table. The general theme was irony, suggesting men must be catered for and even spoiled a little so that women were free to do their own thing.

‘You’re suggesting we should be pampered and cosseted so we work harder and stay out of your way?’ one of the men queried, glancing at Quinn—who had remained carefully neutral up to now—to see his reaction.

‘With more women in the work place year on year, I’m sure that’s a message that resonates with everyone,’ Magenta said, defending her team’s premise good-humouredly.

‘I think we can see that Magenta’s group is coming up with some sound ideas,’ Quinn observed. ‘Not all of them will fly,’ he added, ‘but I’m sure we can tailor them to suit our purposes. They will enrich the project—and we shouldn’t close our minds to a new approach,’ he added when there were murmurs of discontent from the men around the table.

What did Quinn mean? Magenta wondered. She didn’t want to rain on her team’s parade—the women were all excited that at last they were being taken seriously—but having their ideas ‘tailored’ to fit in with those of the men didn’t sound like the end result Magenta had been aiming for.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MAGENTA’S worst fears were soon confirmed.

‘Jackson, you take the graphics and work on them,’ Quinn instructed. ‘And Michael, you handle the fashion side of things. You’re more in touch with your feminine side than the rest of us.’

As if a dam had burst, the tension between the men at the table relaxed and they all burst out laughing; it wasn’t kind laughter. It was laughter directed at the women in their midst, as if to be a woman was somehow contrary to the laws of business.

Or at least business under Quinn, Magenta thought, feeling betrayed. She could only watch in impotent horror as one by one the ideas her team had worked so hard on were handed over to a member of Quinn’s team to progress. The good of the business had to be her only concern if everyone was going to keep their job, but how was she going to explain this to the women who had trusted her? She could feel their shock as well as their disappointment. They would become resigned soon and she couldn’t wait around for that to happen. ‘May I have a word with you—in private?’ she asked Quinn when he brought the meeting to a close.

‘About business?’

‘What else?’ Her gaze drilled into him, telling him in pretty blunt language what she thought of both his question and his manner.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ he said when the last man had left the room.

‘I prefer to remain standing, thank you.’

‘As you wish.’

Getting up from his chair, Quinn went to stand beside the window, staring out. It had started snowing, Magenta noticed, but that was nothing to the sheet of ice that had closed around her heart. ‘I thought we had an agreement.’

Quinn turned to face her. ‘And as far as I’m aware,’ he said, ‘I have fulfilled my obligation to you.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re doing,’ Magenta admitted.

‘It’s clear enough to me.’

‘Well, not to me. My ideas and those of my team—I thought you were prepared to consider them, to incorporate them. I never imagined for one moment that you, of all people, would steal them.’

‘Steal them?’ Quinn demanded. ‘What are you suggesting? ‘ His eyes turned black.

Her job, her future—everything hung in the balance, Magenta realized. But this was a battle that had to be fought. ‘You took ideas the women have been working hard to perfect and handed them over to the men when all the hard work has been done. I wouldn’t mind, but those men don’t have an original idea between them. Why should they claim credit for work that isn’t theirs? ‘

‘We all work for the same company.’

‘Well, of course we do,’ Magenta agreed, trying to remain calm. ‘But why do you trust the men here more than the women? What makes you assume they have more ability? Quinn, I don’t know what’s happened to you!’ she exclaimed finally, as exasperation got the better of her.

The expression in Quinn’s eyes gave her no hope at all.

‘Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that what happens between us in our off-duty moments is a green light in the office.’

‘I haven’t,’ Magenta protested. ‘I wouldn’t—’

‘But that’s exactly what you’re doing,’ Quinn cut in. ‘Since last night, you have had expectations that go far beyond the bedroom. Well?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Don’t you, Magenta?’

‘I thought I could trust you, yes.’

‘You can trust me. You can trust me to keep a consistent line. You can’t walk in here hours after your promotion and think you can order this business to your liking. New systems have to be tried and proven first. I don’t operate a business on a whim—not even my own whim, and especially not yours.’

As each hammer blow landed on her heart, Magenta wished one of them would be violent enough to wake her up. How could anyone share what she’d shared with Quinn last night and feel nothing? How could he switch off from her like this? And, as for the green light, the only light she was aware of was flashing in her brain, telling her she’d made a fool of herself. And their ‘off-duty moments’? Quinn made their love-making sound like a useful alternative to counting sheep.

She’d let her team down, and wouldn’t make things right by handing in her resignation. And, even if she waited for this nightmare to pass, what if it didn’t pass? What if this was her life now?

She had to stay and fight. It didn’t matter whether this was a dream or her reality now, her internal dial would remain tuned to the same setting it was always on, which was survival and the determination to defend those she cared about.

She couldn’t have felt worse when she called the girls together. ‘You’re far more supportive than I deserve,’ she told them, feeling dreadful when she noticed the small bunch of flowers someone had arranged in a vase on her desk. ‘I’ve let you down, misled you. I can’t apologise enough for what happened at the meeting. I had no idea Quinn would take that line. I really thought he was going to involve all of you in the steering group for the campaign. But this isn’t the end,’ she promised. ‘I won’t allow your ideas to be squandered or diluted by anyone—and we’re not going to sulk or cause a problem,’ she added decisively. ‘We’re going to win this battle by being the very best we can and by selling direct to the customer.’

‘Quinn,’ Nancy supplied.

‘Yes, that’s right, Nancy—Quinn,’ Magenta agreed. ‘Quinn is the only person we have to convince.’ She exclaimed with shock as a familiar hand took hold of her arm and firmly moved her aside.

‘I was trying to warn you,’ Nancy explained discreetly as Quinn went into his office and shut the door.

Could the girls hear her heart hammering? Magenta hoped not. It was crucial that they still believed in her or those typing-pool partitions would soon be up again. ‘I’m going in to see him now, to convince him he’s made a mistake and needs us on board. I had a word with him after the meeting, but I was too angry to think straight, and so of course Quinn took advantage.’

‘That’s not such a bad thing, is it?’ Nancy said, injecting some much-needed humour into the tense mix. ‘We’ve all seen the way Quinn looks at you.’ Nancy glanced around the other girls for confirmation.

‘Please stop.’ This was absolutely the last thing Magenta wanted to hear. ‘I can assure you there is nothing going on between Quinn and me.’ Not any longer there wasn’t—nor was there ever likely to be again. ‘We’re as different as two people could be.’

‘We all saw the way he touched you just now,’ Nancy argued. ‘And you never know when a hand on your arm leads to a night on your back,’ she added, which made the other girls laugh.

Magenta blushed furiously as the girls continued to tease her, but she was glad they were laughing again. ‘Quinn’s probably watching us,’ she warned. ‘We’d better get back to work. We don’t want to give him any reason for complaint. Just pick up where you left off,’ she said, exchanging meaningful looks with the girls. ‘We’re not going to give up on this.’

Playing by Quinn’s rules, Magenta took him his morning coffee and remained calm as she shut the door. But the moment he looked up at her all her protective instincts for the girls rose up and poured out. ‘You’ve made a mistake cutting the girls out of the equation.’

‘Well, thank you for your opinion, Magenta, but I’ve made the right decision—and you’ve just proved it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s no place for emotion at the office, and if I encourage women to seek promotion it would open the floodgates.’

‘To feelings?’ Whatever she said now would influence every woman’s future at the company. ‘Isn’t that exactly why my team’s ideas are more likely to connect with the public than yours? Or do you really think the market deserves another macho ad-campaign dreamed up by men?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with passion.’

‘But no to emotion? How does that work, Quinn? ‘

‘Magenta.’ He sighed. ‘I have work to do.’

‘Allow the girls to work on their projects without consulting the men at every turn and they’ll work faster,’ she pleaded with him. ‘Let them do that, and then you judge which campaign you prefer. Or is that too big a risk for your male ego to take?’