I located my cell and set it up to record. Awkwardly, I held it just near my underwear and let my other hand explore. I hooked my fingers into my thong and pulled it down around my thighs. I teased myself, and when I was warm and wet, slipped a finger inside. Remembering his message, I immediately added another finger. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise.
When the door opened, I froze, two fingers deep inside myself and everything tight and aching. I almost told them to get out, wanting nothing more than to chase my orgasm. To keep it from slipping away, I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined Dean spanking me over his desk, fully clothed as he made me stare at the paper’s red marks. As soon as I was alone again, I plunged my fingers deeper—searching, massaging, until I came. My heavy breathing was the only sound echoing in the bathroom. I hit the stop button and fixed my dress before returning to my desk.
“Come in,” he said when I knocked.
I entered the office. For the first time, he turned his body from the computer and gave me his full attention. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes,” I said, showing him the cell phone.
He glanced at it and back at me. “Two fingers?”
“Yes.”
“I was right about you. You do follow direction well.” He nodded his head once so I walked toward him. “God, how I’d like to taste you,” he said.
“Taste me?” I asked, confused. “Like, kiss me?”
“No.” I followed his eyes and realized he’d been looking at my hand, not my cell. He took the phone from me, but my hand remained suspended in the air. I opened it for him. I couldn’t believe what I was offering, but that didn’t stop me. He shook his head. “No touching. Do it for me.”
I crinkled my nose. “I don’t know…”
His expression remained as stern as his back was straight. After a moment I touched the pad of my finger to the tip of my tongue.
“Both,” he said in an unusually soft voice.
I put the fingers I’d used to masturbate in my mouth and sucked. He looked momentarily gone, but then I lost his attention to the video. He watched it intently, his eyes narrowing, his head cocking.
“Don’t you shave?”
“No,” I said. Trey had teased me about the fact that I would only trim. It was what I liked, though, so that was how I’d always kept it. Now I wished I’d listened to him and shaved everything off or even waxed—anything to show Dean I could be like the sophisticated women he knew.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
“It is?”
He looked back at my face and set the phone down, even though the video wasn’t over. He assessed me, almost as if seeing me for the first time. My soft moans from the cell phone surrounded us as we stared at each other. They grew louder, more insistent. I didn’t remember moaning that way, and as they filled the office, my core grew hotter with the throbbing between my legs.
“I thought about you,” I said, my voice unintentionally husky.
“I know.”
I bunched the fabric of my skirt in two fists. “I think I might…want this.”
“I know that too.”
“How? How do you know?”
He stood slowly, speaking, but I barely heard a thing. My ears were loud with the rush of arousal in my system. His jaw flexed while his nostrils flared.
“What?” I asked.
“I said, ‘Have a nice evening.’”
“Evening?” I repeated. “I didn’t finish my project.”
“You can finish it tomorrow.”
His face was stoic, but I caught the surprise in his eyes when I stepped closer. “I thought it was urgent.”
