Page 150 of The One Month Boyfriend (Wildwood Society)

I slide one hand under her skirt, draw a circle on her inner thigh with my thumb. When we lock eyes I raise one eyebrow, and she swallows. Then nods and in half a second, her skirt’s around her hips and she’s sitting on my desk, legs around my waist.

“We are in a hurry,” I remind her, and brush my fingers against her clit through the thin fabric of her panties.

“Fuck,” she whispers, glancing at the door.

“Don’t look at that. Look at me,” I tell her. “C’mon.”

Kat rolls her eyes, so I slide my thumb harder over her clit and her eyes go closed, her hips jolting.

“You’re so brave,” I murmur. “So determined. Hardly anyone knows it, but you’re reckless.”

“I’m not.”

“If you’re gonna moan your disagreements, you’re gonna have to do it quietly,” I tell her, thumb circling.

That gets her eyes at half-mast as she leans back on her hands, legs wide, skirt around her waist, shirt pristine.

“Fuck off,” she says, and I grin.

Then push my hand under her panties. She’s warm and slippery and her breath catches when I do.

“You’re completely fucking impossible,” I tell her. She swallows, her throat working. “You tell me to fuck off when you’re half-clothed on my desk and I’m plotting ways to make you come.”

That gets a sound that’s part laugh and part moan.

“You wouldn’t like me otherwise,” she says.

“Probably not. I like you too much this way. Come kiss me again.”

She does, her fingers tangling in my hair. I keep stroking her clit slowly, and after a few moments she whimpers into my mouth.

“God, I love when you do that,” I tell her.

“Make weird noises?”

“Yeah. It’s the fucking best.”

She kisses me harder, pulling me against her. Bites my lip, makes a strangled sigh, and I groan in response.

“It feels good,” she murmurs, like she has to explain herself, so we keep going until the noises get desperate, and then I stop.

“Hey,” she says, but I pull her off the desk and tug her panties down.

“Off,” I tell her, and for once, she doesn’t argue with me. “Turn around.”

“Why?” Okay, that didn’t last long.

“Please, Kat?” I ask, one hand on her bare hip.

She gives me one of her looks, but she does and she braces herself against the desk, looks over her shoulder at me with her hair spilling everywhere. Her breath catches when I stroke her again, sliding my fingertips between her warm, slippery lips. She knows what’s next. I told her earlier.

“Go ahead,” I tell her, waiting at her entrance.

She does, and I gasp as she envelops me. When I’m buried in her up to my knuckles I crook my fingers and she hisses and pushes back harder, flexing around me. I’m hard as iron but I ignore it. I’d hate to do anything to distract myself right now.

“Keep going,” I tell her. “This is perfect.”

“Fuck,” she whispers again, and she does. After a few more strokes I add a third finger and she swears again, swears a little louder when I stroke her inner wall and she works into a rhythm.