And then he went to kiss my neck, and I about lost all control.
I pulled him up against my body, pressing my breasts into his neck and face. We still had clothes on—I was not going to losethat muchself-control—but the desire was unbearable. Steele and I may have had a budding friendship, but this felt like throwing some oil onto a fire slowly growing.
“Oh, fuck, Steele,” I said.
“Come on,” he said, suddenly standing up. “Let’s go someplace.”
“Steele—”
“Get on my bike.”
“Steele—”
“Or, hell, let’s just go into the office; no one will know.”
“Steele!”
Steele stopped himself, finally.
“That’s not happening tonight.”
And then I shoved him back down in the chair and straddled him again. I could feel his cock bulging in his jeans, and let’s just say that as wrong yet right as this felt, the temptation for that was enormous.
But even with all the encouragement to say, “Fuck it,” I was still not at that point.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t keep making out, though.”
I pressed my lips into his, pulled his head close with my hands behind his head, and started to rub my hips on him.
Suddenly, even with my eyes closed, I felt like I saw flashing lights.
And seconds later, I heard the siren of a police car.
