The vision of Mr. Carlson’s cock will be forever burned into my mind for quick recall during my own self-indulgent sessions. I brush a hand across my breasts, teasing the hard points of my nipples, and I let out a soft whimper.
My fingers will never be enough to ease the ache for him.
The door pushes open.
I snatch my hands away from my breasts, skin flushing hot at being caught.
Mr. Carlson steps inside.
“What are you doing?”
He looks around at the empty stalls and then turns the lock on the door. “You’re fired.”
My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my throat. “Good.”
He stalks toward me and grips my hips, eyes hooded and locked on my mouth.
A shallow breath makes my lips part.
He lets out a low curse, squeezes my hips, and spins me around to face the mirror. “I don’t want a relationship.”
Neither do I, but something uncomfortable tightens in my chest at hearing him say it.
It doesn’t matter. We both know what this is—a chance to indulge in our desires and for me to leave without any lingering unresolved feelings.
“I’m leaving the country, remember?” I force my stare to match his and not drop to his mouth. “And in case you aren’t aware, you’re a grump who’s not much fun to be around.”
“Such a brat.” He growls, tugs my panties down, and then unhooks his belt. The clang of metal and the slow slide of his zipper make my skin tingle in anticipation.
He presses one hand between my shoulder blades to guide me forward, using the other to tug my hips back. The possessiveness in his touch drives me wild, and his uncontrolled need to take me in public turns me into a live wire of sexual desire.
He kicks my thighs wider apart, then swipes two fingers between my pussy lips, smearing my arousal and spreading me open.
Anticipation coils in my belly.
And then his cock head is at my entrance and pushing, stretching my walls effortlessly.
He buries his face in the back of my neck and groans. The hot rush of his breath on my skin makes me shudder. The satisfaction of finally feeling his touch after wanting him for so long is exhilarating and so intense my pussy spasms, close to orgasm.
A sob of relief escapes my mouth. He muffles the sound with his palm. “Shhh.”
He rocks into me slowly and steadily as though savoring our connection. It’s teasing and torturous.
I whimper with need and rock back onto him.
He muffles a curse and pulls back. I watch him in the mirror as his gaze drops to where we are joined.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror’s reflection again. He must read my desperation because he uses the hand covering my mouth to guide me up until my back is flush against his front and his cock is hitting me at a new angle. My eyelids flutter as sensation takes over.
I roll my hips and push backward until he’s fully sheathed in me again.
He releases my mouth and tugs at the bow around my neck, loosening the top of my dress and exposing my lace-covered breasts.
He tugs at one cup until my nipple pokes out, hard and aching. He cups my breast, his palm hot as he squeezes and pinches.
Seeing the polished professional lose control drives me wild. A new moan rolls up my throat. He doesn’t bother covering my mouth this time. Instead, his hand climbs up my neck and squeezes with the perfect amount of pressure to intensify the sensations pulsing through my body—just like one of my favorite book boyfriends.
Reality and fantasy intertwine, and I come apart, a cascade of fiery sparks starting a chain reaction, easing months of pent-up frustration. I bite back the whimper as I shudder and pulse.
