Beg by C. D. Reiss Read Free Book Online Page B

paper with the calendar. The waitstaff hung around waiting for it every week as our station placement and hours
determined not only how much money we’d make over the next seven days, but our
social and family plans as well. And here she was giving it to me two hours
early. She smiled and patted my arm before walking off to greet three men in
suits.
    I went to the bathroom and freshened up, then headed for Sam’s
office.
    It wasn’t a warm, fabulously decorated place like Jonathan’s at
K. It was totally utilitarian, with a linoleum floor and metal filing cabinets.
The copy machine was in there, and I put the schedule on the glass without
turning the lights on. The windows gave enough afternoon light.
    The energy saver was on, meaning the copier was ice cold. I
tapped start and waited. Lord knew how long it would take. I stretched my neck
and hummed, then whispered, I’ve got you,
under my skin. I’ve got you, deep in the heart of me. So deep in my
heart—
    I gasped when I smelled his dry scent. When I turned, Jonathan
stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. That was the first time I’d seen
him in daylight, and the sunlight made him look more human, more substantial,
more present, and more gorgeous, if that was even possible.
    “Jonathan.”
    “Hi.”
    I realized the deal with the schedule copying just then. “Debbie
sent me up here.”
    “You didn’t know she was a yenta?”
    “You’re very persistent.”
    “I just kept telling myself I didn’t want you, but we said no
lies, and I think that includes lying to myself. How about you?”
    I didn’t know what to say. I had shut out thoughts of him for
almost a week. I thought about baseball, chord progressions, and getting a new
manager whenever he came into my mind. So having him in front of me was like
opening a closet door and having all the stuff come tumbling out.
    I took a step forward, and he did, too. We were in each other’s
arms in a second, mouths attached, tongues twisting. He reached back and closed
the door.
    Okay, I was going to get this over with now. Me and him. Right
there. Just get it done so I could move on. He thrust me onto the desk and I
opened my legs, wrapping them around his waist. He was pushing against me
again, like on the hood of the Mercedes, a million years ago.
    He put his hands up my shirt, across my stomach and to my
breasts.
    “Yes?” he gasped.
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes to everything.”
    “Yes,” he whispered in my ear, then pushed my bra up and cupped
my tits, finding my nipples and rubbing them with his thumbs. My hips levitated
from the desk, and I made some noise deep in my throat. Damn, he was good. Lots
of practice. He knew exactly what to do.
    He looked down at my chest, nipples hardening from his touch and
the cool air. “My God, Monica, you are magnificent.”
    I laughed, because being admired like that made me nervous, but
he shut me up when he put his mouth on one nipple and his fingers on the other,
pressing and twisting. My legs tightened around him, hitching my skirt up to my
waist. With only my panties between me and his jeans, he felt harder and more
forceful. He pushed against me, and I flowed with him, my hips to his rhythm as
I gripped his hair. I’d almost come like that, eons ago, with some guy in
freshman year I couldn’t even remember now, and it felt like it might happen
again.
    As if reading my mind, he pulled away. His own breathing was
heavy as he looked at me, not as if he was undressing me with his eyes, but as if
he was making plans for the body in front of him. He moved his hands down my
sides and pulled my skirt up, bunching it at the waist. My underwear bottoms,
which I hadn’t given a thought to when I’d dressed in the morning, were the
only thing between me and the world.
    “Listen,” I started, “I don’t know if Sam would think this is
ok.”
    He put his fingertips to my mouth, and I shushed. Let him explain
to Sam. Let me get fired. I parted my lips and took two