He moves to stand behind me, and I can feel the warmth of his body, but he’s still not touching me. “He wants you, Bree.”
I clench my fists at my sides and arch my back as if I’m searching for his heat.
His voice is like a whisper in my ear. “He wants what I had last night.”
And then suddenly what happened between us has turned ugly. I turn on him, unable to hide the anger. “What? You planning on pimping me out or something?”
Shock registers on his face, and then he shakes his head. His hands go to my hips, and I’m two seconds from pulling away from him when he drops a bombshell. “No. There’s no fuckin’ way I’d share you, Bree. I think you know that about me.”
He pauses for a moment while I stare at him in shock. “I know men look at you,” he finally goes on. “They can’t help it. But they need to know that they can’t have you. Not as long as we’re… doing this.”
I flip my head to look at him. “Doing what? Ithought these last few nights was a just a thing. I thought?—”
I let my voice trail off. I need to let him speak because I’m tired of trying to guess what he’s thinking.
He pulls my hips back so our lower bodies are pressed together. His hard manhood presses against my ass, and I lean into him. His arms circle me, holding me tighter to him. His hands are moving the whole time he’s speaking to me.
“Thing?” he repeats with disgust. “You think I can work next to you, day after day, and not touch you?” His hands cup my breast, squeezing me. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes… No…” I answer, confused because I can’t make sense of anything while he’s touching me like this.
One hand travels down my body, and he pulls my skirt up so he can palm my panty-clad pussy. “You want me to touch you? Or you don’t want me to touch you?”
He presses a finger over the sodden middle of my panties, pushing into me, and I arch into his hand. “I want you to touch me.”
He slides his hand under the material, and as soon as the pad of his finger touches me, I feel that I’m going to explode. He chuckles in my ear. “You like that, don’t you?”
I open my legs farther, giving him access, and he strokes me, coating his finger with my desire before strumming my clit. My head falls back against his shoulder, and he keeps stroking me, murmuring in my ear, “Does that feel good, baby? You like that?”
I can feel the orgasm brewing, and I clutch his arm. He chuckles, deep and throaty. “Give it to me, Bree. I want you to come on my hand, baby.”
He kisses the side of my neck, and I go off, body writhing, every muscle pulled tight. He’s relentless and doesn’t slow down as my body no longer feels like my own. Over and over, he brings me over the edge, and after another orgasm, I’m lying limp and face down across his desk.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I lift my head so I can look at him over my shoulder. He pulls his hand up and sucks my arousal off his fingers. His eyes close briefly, showing his enjoyment. It’s like tasting me makes him unhinged.
Putting a hand to my back, he presses me into the desk. He pulls my skirt up over my ass, my panties down to my knees, and then stops.
The sound of his belt coming off, his zipper coming down, and his pants falling has me gripping the edge of the table.
His hands knead at my ass, and then he gives me a hard slap.
I whimper as he grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. He pulls me back, and his bare manhood ruts along my clit. I’m too sensitive there, and I put my head down on the desk and force myself to breathe.
One hand leaves me, and I look at him over my shoulder. He grips his manhood, lining it up at my core. He slides into me, and I groan as he does it in one fluid motion, not stopping until he’s completely filled me up.
He pauses, letting me adjust to him, and then slowly starts to pummel in and out of me.
I turn my head and groan into the hard wood. “Yes.”
He plows into me, over and over, grunting.
He leans over, and with every plunge inside me, he grunts.
“He can look, but he can’t touch you, Bree.”
“I’m the only one that gets to see you like this.”
