“Need any help?” I ask, getting his attention and am not disappointed by the drop of his jaw when he turns around and looks at me. His eyes go wide and dilate, and I smile smugly, my hands on my hips.
“I see you got a leather jacket,” he murmurs as he slowly saunters toward me.
“I had orders.” I shrug. “I’m good at taking direction.”
“So you are.” He stops about three feet away from me and rakes those hot gray eyes over my body, from my Choo-clad feet to the top of my blonde head, then looks me in the eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can just gaze back into those lust-filled eyes, and the blood rushes south, pooling between my thighs. I bite my lower lip and reach out, bunching his shirt in my fist, my eyes still on his and jerk him forward so his chest is just an inch from mine. His hands are still hanging at his sides, balled into fists, our lips are inches apart, and I can’t stop gazing into his eyes.
“Nate,” I whisper.
“Yes, baby,” he whispers back.
“If you don’t touch me, like thirty seconds ago, I’m not responsible for my actions.”
His lips curve up into a half smile and he exhales, his eyes moving down to my lips, then back to my own. His fingers lightly brush down my cheek, the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, and I bite that pad, gripping his wrist in my hand, and then gently suck it, rolling my tongue around it. His eyes close and teeth clench, and the next thing I know he’s kissing me like crazy and pushing me back into the living room.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” His face is against my neck, licking and biting, just under my ear and it sends the most delicious tingles down my back. He parts the front of my jacket, exposing my breasts and kneads one, brushing his thumb back and forth over my nipple, making it pucker and my back bow.
Nate lays me down on the couch and covers my body with his, hitches my right leg around his hip and grinds his still-covered erection against my center.
“Oh God.” My hands dive into his hair and I hold him against me, grinding against him, feeling his lips and teeth on my neck and it’s pure bliss. “Nate.”
“Yes, baby.” He rocks a little harder against me and kisses me tenderly, and I fucking come apart beneath him, writhing and pushing against him.
Holy shit.
Before I can recover, Nate has unzipped his pants and I feel the tip of his glorious cock, and those magnificent metal balls, at my opening, and he slams into me, burying himself inside me.
“Argh!” I cry out, lifting my hips against him.
He stills and lifts his head, his molten gray eyes boring into mine. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, God no, don’t stop.”
He growls and pulls out, almost all the way, then slams in again, over and over. I feel my body tightening, and I try to hold it back, wanting this to last.
“You’re so goddamn tight,” he growls, his jaw clenched shut.
It feels so fucking good.
“Let go, baby.”
“Not yet,” I whisper back.
He bites my earlobe and starts to slam into me even harder, gripping my ass in one hand and pulling me tighter against him.
“Yes, now. Do it, babe.”
And I can’t stop. The orgasm pushes through me with such intensity I can’t even feel my teeth. I grip his ass in my hands, and he cries out as he slams into me one last time and I feel him erupt inside me.
“Holy hell, happy birthday to me,” I murmur and feel him grin against my neck.
He rears back and pulls out of me, stands up and pulls me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest and carries me up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I run my fingers through his hair.
“I’m not done yet. We’re going to bed.”
Holy shit.
***
There are many things that I love about my job. It makes me think, it’s challenging, I’m surrounded by incredibly intelligent people. On the down side, it is fiercely competitive, and colleagues can be brutal. In my experience, women are especially catty. The men I’ve worked with have been driven, and don’t involve a lot of emotion into work. There’s just no time for it.
But women are a different breed. What is it with women and drama?
I’m not here to make friends, I have friends, but having an amicable working relationship with my colleagues is preferable. This hasn’t been a challenge for me for the most part.
Until Carly Lennox.
Carly joined our firm last summer, and she hated me on sight. She’s really good at plastering a fake smile on her pretty face in front of the bosses, but her eyes are cutting. She’d give her right tit to throw me under the bus. I’ve managed to ignore her for the most part because she works on a different team, and I’m thankful.
And then there are days that I just can’t seem to avoid her.
I breeze into the restroom at five pm on Friday afternoon. It’s the end of the workday, and Nate and I are going to spend a good portion of the weekend together, again. We’ve spent every night together since Monday, alternating between his place and mine. We take separate cars to and from work, leaving at different times so we don’t attract any attention.
Pretending Nate is just my boss, acting professional and detached, has begun to wear on my nerves. I never realized before how often I see him throughout the day. A few days away from the office to just be us is a welcome reprieve.