"You don't know that," she said, shrugging. "For all you know, I like making you suffer."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that fact, beautiful." With both hands on her waist, I picked her up and set her on the table. "What do you think I've been doing the past two nights?"
"Reading that book you've had on your nightstand for months?" she quipped.
I pushed her legs apart and stepped between them. "Yes, that's exactly it," I replied. "Unfortunately, it's been a worthless distraction."
Annette's hands skimmed up my chest and over my shoulders. "Sounds like you need to get between some different pages."
I leaned down, my lips a breath away from hers. "Sounds like I need to get some fuck-hot ankles between my sheets."
"Just the ankles?" she asked, shooting me a sharp glance. "Are you sure you're not some kind of serial killer posing as a small town sheriff? Seems like a good cover."
"Not a cover. Not a serial killer. Not just the ankles," I said, kissing the corner of her mouth between each statement. "I want the whole package and the peach down your dress, too. Hell, Annie, I want it so much. I just need you to want it, too."
"I made you donut holes." She inched closer, nipping at my bottom lip. "That has to count for something."
I covered her lips with mine, sighing into her as she opened for me. My tongue stroked over hers, tasting coffee and sweetness. I'd planned on coffee and conversation, but Annette annihilated my best intentions. She always did, and I was the fool who still hadn't learned my lesson.
"It counts," I said against her lips. "It would count for more if you admitted you were walking your fine ass to the station and feeding me these donut holes in the privacy of my office."
Annette paused for a moment, blinking at my neck. Then, she said, "Yeah, I was bringing them over."
I could see her there, sitting on my desk with her legs spread while she hand-feeding me her best creations. Then I'd lay her back on the hard surface and taste her sweetness until she was shaking and writhing. I'd take her right there on my desk and let her scream down the walls. No one would doubt what was happening and no one would doubt she was mine.
"Now, admit you wore this dress because it is the most unholy piece of clothing in your closet and you like making me jizz in my pants."
Her palm shifted to my crotch and she stroked me over my trousers. We could talk later. We had all the time in the world so long as she kept touching me. I wasn't much for conversation before noon anyway. I bucked into her hand, every inch of my body tightening as my head fell back on my shoulders and I let loose a growl too animalistic to be human.
I wasn't the kind of man who lost control. I didn't lose my temper or find myself at the end of my rope too often. I worked hard to keep a cool head. But a few minutes with Annette canceled it all out. I was ready to riot if it meant getting my hands on her.
"I knew you'd like it," she purred. "You love it when I wear white. That, and no one will notice the powdered sugar all over me."
"The last time you wore white, you didn't let me admire you for long," I said. "Not that I minded you getting naked at my house. If you recall, I've been inviting you to do that again."
"Ah, yes," she said, sighing. "You should know I've had some rough nights as well. I've had a lot on my mind."
"I want to hear all about that." I growled into her neck, still rocking into the heaven that was her hand on my dick.
She laughed at that, the vibrations moving through her body and into mine like an electric shock. "Ah, but some things are best left unsaid."
There were so many reasons to step back, straighten myself out, and return to the plan. Aside from the fact we were in a glorified closet, I came here to talk with Annette. I wanted to build a connection beyond our history of complicated interactions. I wanted to make it work with her.
But my cock was a single-minded master and the cradle of her thighs felt like the only place I'd ever truly belonged.
"Annie," I said, grunting as I pressed into her heat.
"Yes, Jackson?"
I pushed her skirt up to her waist and out of my way, and then dragged my hands up her thighs. With my fingers twined around either side of her panties, I asked, "Are you with me, beautiful?"
The nod came first, then the words. "Yeah. Yes. I am," she whispered, her eyes dark and hungry.
"All the way?" I continued. "We're doing this, you and me? You're not going to tell me you need time to figure things out and show me the door when we're finished?"
Her shoulder jerked up. "That depends on how well you finish."
"You don't have anything to worry about there," I murmured, tossing her undies to the floor and wrapping an arm under her backside. Her hands went to my belt while I tugged the top of her dress down to reveal her breasts. "I've been waiting to lick these tits for ages. They're like perfect cupcakes with cherries on top. Bet they taste like vanilla sugar, too."
