Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I hear something clatter to the ground in the bathroom and somebody mumble something.
Then she emerges. She wipes her hand down her apron, pulls out the duster tucked into her pocket and heads into the living area.
We lock eyes, and she grins at me like I’m the best man she’s ever known. It’s a smile that hits me in the chest with a smack and then fractures into a thousand tiny splinters that lodge into every atom of my body.
Fuck.
She doesn’t say anything and neither do I.
Her colleague is probably in the bedroom.
All I can do is watch her as she goes about resetting the bar, scooping up my whisky glass from last night—the drink I used to take the edge off the frustration of being at her apartment and not being able to do what I wanted to her, with her, together.
When she’s finished at the bar, she starts to wipe down other surfaces, cleaning them free of dust. She starts at the bar and works her way around the room in sections from top to bottom.
I’m mesmerized by the movement of her hem as she bends and stretches. At one point she keeps her legs quite straight and picks something off the floor; her skirt rides up so high, I can almost see her panties. Is she deliberately teasing me?
I shift in my chair. I can’t take my eyes off her. She ignores me completely. Doesn’t glance over at me once. She moves along the room counterclockwise, dusting as she goes, lifting up magazines and lamps, bending to catch the bottom of floor lamps and the legs of chairs and side tables. She works thoroughly and consistently, and she’s graceful and sexy and I can’t stop looking at her.
She edges ever closer to me, but I don’t move. She must know I’m watching her. She must feel my eyes on her.
She crouches beside my chair and dips underneath, her ass on perfect display, right next to me. If I reached out, I could grab—
Before I can form a thought, she maneuvers herself closer and brushes my thigh with her hand.
“Sorry, sir. I want to make sure I don’t miss a spot.”
It takes everything I have not to groan and pull her ass into my lap.
But I still don’t know if we’re alone. Surely she wouldn’t risk us being seen?
She leans across me to get to my desk, her heavy breasts dangerously close to my mouth.
“Efa…” I rumble.
“I just need to get a little”—she steps between my thighs and reaches up behind me—“closer.” Her skirt rides up higher and higher, and if I dip my head, just a little, I can see black lace.
She turns, still between my thighs, and leans over the desk.
My self-control tunnels into oblivion.
I slide my hand up her inner thigh and she continues to arrange my desk. Let’s see how long she can pretend I’m not touching her.
“Are we alone?” I scratch out.
She nods but doesn’t say anything. I trust her. I trust that she wouldn’t put either of us in a situation where anyone could discover us like this. Maybe she hasn’t earned that trust. I don’t know her well enough, but my gut tells me she gets it. She’s not going to expose us in any sense of the word.
My fingertips slip from her soft skin to the delicate lace of her underwear. She pauses for just a second before picking up the telephone receiver and wiping her duster over it.
I slide my fingers over her folds, finding her hot and wet and perfectly ready for my dick.
“You want it so bad,” I say.
“You’re right, sir,” she says in a singsong voice. “I’m desperate to have everything dust-free for you.”
My breaths are heavy and needy. She sways her hips, pushing my fingers deeper. I reach my arm around her thigh and find her clit.
“I think it’s my dick you want.”
She whimpers.
“I think you can’t get enough. I think you’re so fucking desperate to get fucked you’d do anything.”
“By you,” she blurts, circling her hips.
“What?” I snap.
“I’m desperate to get fucked by you. Only you.”
I push my chair away and stand. If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’s going to get. I’ve tried to resist this woman. I’ve tried to do the right thing. She knows in no uncertain terms that I’m not going to put her on the Fort payroll, yet still here we are, my fingers covered in her.
I grab my wallet from the desk and clumsily fumble for a condom. There’s not time for me to feast on her. We both need release.
I need to fuck.
She needs to be fucked.
We both need to come or… god only knows what’s going to happen.
I yank down her panties and push up the skirt of her dress so it bunches around her waist. In an effort to try to prove that I’m still in control, I press the crown of my condom-covered cock down through her soaking folds, once, then twice, before I push into her.