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He pants, gaze flicking between my chest and where my fingers are pumping in and out of me. “I have a fair idea. Especially if it’s like anything you’re doing to me right now.”
That wildness steals over me once more, the filter on my tongue loosening, not that it’s been present much tonight. “I want you to touch me again. To get me off.”
“Where should I touch?”
“My clit.” I move my fingers there, bucking at the sharp pleasure that runs through me.
His hold on himself quickens, and he brings his free hand between us, big palm spanning my lower belly, thumb diving down to tangle with my fingers, pressing firmly on my clit.
“Yes.” I moan, not caring how I sound, inhibitions gone. I bring my hands back up to play with my breasts, tugging lightly at my nipples, needing that extra sensation to get myself there.
“You’re like a fantasy come to life.” He sighs, leaning forward to suck on me, switching breasts after a minute. I offer myself to him, and he takes greedily, my breaths coming harshly, chest pumping.
“Can I just—” I bring a hand down, wrapping it around his fist. “Please?”
He releases my breast, indecision flitting over his face for what seems an eternity. Finally, he bites at his bottom lip, nodding. He groans loudly as my hand replaces his, the feel of him velvet over steel. He’s so big, so hard. How would it be to have him actually inside me?
“Fuck,” he mutters, hips thrusting up, free hand gripping the back of my neck, tugging me in for a hot kiss. His other hand continues to stroke my clit rhythmically, building me up, and I brace myself as a wave of pure want washes over me. I kiss him back roughly, that crest rising within, my fist going full throttle on him.
He tenses, pulling away from my mouth, brows knit as he looks down at himself, a moan escaping him. “Emma. Oh, God.” His eyes squeeze shut as he comes, holding me tight, all sorts of nonsensical curses flying from his lips interspersed with my name.
I’ve never seen him so frantic, so out of control, but it’s exactly what I wanted, the sight of it sending me over the edge, joining him in a flurry of excitement as my climax overtakes me.
When it’s over, my heart back to its steady rhythm, I pull away, realizing there’s cum all over my hand.
“Oh, shit,” he says. “Here.” He reaches over to the side table and pulls a few tissues out of a silver-plated box, carefully wiping my fingers, then cleans himself off, tucking his dick into his boxers.
I climb off him and pull my skirt down, then slip my bra and shirt on, finding his gaze on me as I do up the buttons.
“I’ve never been so sad to see a shirt being buttoned.”
A breath of laughter escapes me, glad he’s not immediately remorseful for what we just did. I step closer, twining my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him, my body melting into his.
He settles hot palms on my waist, kissing me back, the action easy, natural. “How am I going to keep my hands off you at work?” he murmurs against my lips.
I relax further, loving this playful side of him. “You don’t have to. We can do this whenever you want.”
His shoulders stiffen, body tensing as he seems to remember himself and pulls away. “Emma—”
I tighten my grasp on him, not letting him go just yet. Not without a fight. “Don’t say it was a mistake.” The pleading in my voice isn’t part of any kind of act. I wanted this. Wanted him. “Please.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth, the moment stretching out until he finally nods. “I, um—” He clears his throat, giving me a rueful smile. “I meant for this to take the edge off, but I don’t think it did that.”
I shake my head slightly. “No, it didn’t.”
“I only want you more,” he confesses.
He does? My belly flutters north. “It’s the same for me. When can we do it again?”
I wait for him to make an excuse, to tell me it’s a bad idea. Logically, I know he’s right. Every time we’re together is a chance to be caught. For someone to capture an incriminating photo. For his professional integrity to get the better of him.
And for me to fall deeper under his spell.
But he doesn’t deny my request outright. “I want to. God believe me, I want to.” He cups the back of my head, gently sifting through my hair, and I arch into his touch, craving the connection for as long as it lasts. “But I need some time to think about this all. How best to… navigate it.”
“You’re not giving up on me?” The words slip out without conscious thought, and I immediately wish them back. That sounded pathetic. Needy. He doesn’t want that. He wants a seductress. Someone confident. In charge. I might have fooled him earlier, but how long can I keep that up?
“No,” he says softly, brushing my hair away from my face. “I want you too much. I can’t deny that any longer.”