“How does it feel?”
My brows gathered. “What?”
“Just put your hand between your legs, and tell me how it feels.”
I gulped through my panic. Could I do this? Was I sure the office was empty—and why was that my main concern? I spread my knees wider. He was patient, watching until I bunched up my skirt just enough to slip my hand under. I was sensitive, slightly swollen with arousal. “It feels…all right.”
“No. I mean, tell me how your panties feel.”
“They’re soft.”
“What else?”
“A little…damp, I guess.”
“Christ. What color?”
I searched my memory. “Pink. It’s a thong from Victoria’s Secret.”
“How doyoufeel? Inside of them?”
I swallowed. No way I would touch myself here in this office. I already felt weird with my hand under my skirt. I shifted them aside fractionally. My body wanted more, but I ignored it and ran a gentle finger over myself. “Also soft and damp,” I said quietly. “And also…pink.”
“Fuck.” He grunted and put his hand over the crotch of his pants. “That’s enough. You’re dismissed.”
I remained still, trying not to look at the bulge under his palm. He wanted me to leavenow? I was hot. Bothered. Unhinged. Almost enough to askhimto touch me. “Dismissed? But—”
“Go.”
Before I even stood, he’d returned his attention to his computer. I didn’t know how he could be so casual when in my eyes, the earth had just tilted on its axis. My entire body felt like an exposed nerve aching for his soothing touch. My heart pounded all the way down the elevator. I slid into the front seat of my car, unable to think of anything other than Mr. Brittany taking me from behind.
CHAPTER 6
I arrived an hour early the next day, and by the time Dean strode off the elevator, I had hot coffee waiting on his desk. I smiled, but his answering nod was short.
The next few hours, I glanced up every time he passed my desk, but he never returned my look. By early evening, I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined it all or if I’d done something wrong—or even something to lose his interest.
For me, it was the opposite. It was as if he’d flipped me on like a light switch but forgotten to turn me off. Finally, I got the message I hadn’t realized I’d been desperately hoping for.
Mr. Brittany
Do you have your cell on you?
Admin
Yes.
Mr. Brittany
Go to the bathroom. Finger yourself. Record it. Bring it to me. No less than two fingers.
I blinked repeatedly at the screen. Was he serious? I’d never let anyone watch me touch myself before. I was at work. I glanced around the office. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see anyone in the next room. There was only the melodic, ubiquitous tap of fingertips against keyboards.
Mr. Brittany
Hurry. I’m especially impatient today.
I got up quickly from my desk and grabbed my purse. I had no idea how he knew I was still sitting there since the door was closed. I made my way to the bathroom, unable to believe I was going to do this. Inside, I locked myself into a stall and hung my purse on the hook. I waited a moment, listening for anyone even though the bathroom was empty. I pulled up my new dress. My grey slacks were still a crumpled pile in my car from Tuesday.
