Free Anything for Her by Jack Jordan Page B

vice-like grip as he shakes against her, spurting deep inside her and exhaling heavily in low moans.
    They pant from exertion and pleasure for a moment, their bodies still connected in a moist lock, their bodiesdripping with warm beads of sweat.
    Michael kisses her damp shoulder and then releases her; he slips out of her and saunters across his vast office for his clothes.
    Denise remains perched against the desk, dripping and shivering with the pleasure that hasn’t yet left her.
    ‘I spoke to Louise.’
    ‘What? Why?’ Michael replies with a grimace.
    ‘I had to talk to her, Michael. She’s my sister.’
    She turns to face him and tries to take control of her quivering legs and throbbing crotch. The orgasm is still racing through her like an electric current.
    He grunts.
    ‘Don’t you want to know how it went?’ she asks, suddenly conscious of her naked body as Michael pulls his shirt on.
    ‘Not good, I expect.’
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    She grabs her dress and steps into it – while frustration replaces her pleasure – and quickly slips her arms into it.
    ‘Forgive me if I’m not happy with you interfering in my marriage. This is nothing to do with you.’
    ‘What do you mean, it’s nothing to do with me?’ She zips her dress up the back. ‘You broke up
because
of me.’
    ‘That’s not something to be proud of, Denise.’
    He won’t look at her as he tucks his shirt into histrousers and fastens his belt; it’s as though he felt disgusted and sickeningly guilty the moment he ejaculated inside her.
    Denise looks at him, baffled. Her bewildered stare turns into a scowl.
    ‘Why am I being made to feel like the villain, here? We both did this. We both made this choice.’
    ‘Choice to do what? Fuck?’
    ‘To be together, you pig.’
    ‘We’re not together. I love my wife.’
    ‘But you fuck other women in your office?’
    ‘You wanted me. I wanted sex. My wife doesn’t. I did what I had to do.’
    He tightens his tie, and searches for his socks and shoes.
    ‘So I mean nothing to you?’ she exclaims, her eyes brimming with furious, wounded tears.
    ‘Shut up, someone will hear you!’
    ‘But the sound of us fucking is acceptable, is it?’
    ‘I’m not doing this with you,’ he tells her, shaking his head.
    ‘Well, tough. You should have thought about that before you got us into this. We’re both involved.’
    ‘Leave,’ he commands, pointing to the frosted glass doors.
    She snatches up her high heels from the floor and throws her coat around her shoulders. Michael looks at her with utter disgust.
    ‘I love my wife and you’re trying to ruin everything.’
    ‘How is our relationship
my
fault? Take some fucking responsibility.’
    ‘We don’t have a relationship. We have an arrangement.’
    ‘What am I, some hooker?’
    ‘Will money make you leave?’
    She launches a shoe at his head, but hits his shoulder, and heads for the door in bare feet, picking up the shoe as she goes.
    Denise stands before the door, her hand on the steel handle as she slips into her shoes. She turns to him with tears rolling down her cheeks.
    ‘I’m pregnant, Michael.’
    She stands in the doorway for a few seconds – although it feels like a lifetime – as they stare at each other without blinking. He looks her up and down with contempt, as if trying to decide if she is telling the truth.
    ‘You’re lying,’ he says, pulling at his collar as though it has become too tight for his neck.
    ‘I don’t lie,’ she replies, before opening the door and sauntering off down the office filled with Michael’s employees. Colleagues whisper to one another about the woman in the sleek, red dress, which reveals her long legs – and the fact that she is clearly not wearing underwear.
    She was in there almost an hour
.
    She’s hot. Lucky bastard .
    You can tell she’s a slut just by the way she walks
.
    Fifty quid says she’s a call girl getting £500 to wank him off in his lunch break .
    Michael stands at the