His fingers draw it down to my cunt, messy and slick and dripping with his seed. Each pass he makes with the cloth brings him to brush against my oversensitive clit, still raw from his attentions, and it makes me squirm in his grip. A little more attention and I'll be coming again in his arms.
“No gold star?” I ask, and his response is a low chuckle that I can feel rumble in his chest against me. I know I'll be well sated by the end of this night.
But this is it. What happens on the work trip stays on the work trip.
14
Sitting next to Vlad, the last eight hours of presentations fly by. I wish I’d been sitting next to him from the start.
I can't help but keep looking over my shoulder, to see if anyone spots the way we're just a little bit cozier during the meetings than we had been before. Every now and then he knocks my shoulder with his and murmurs a joke or observation in my ear, and I try not to giggle like a schoolgirl or touch my knee against his too often. Does it look like we’re flirting to anyone else?
It’s fine. I doubt anyone suspects that we did anything we shouldn’t have been doing. Even if I have to keep correcting my body language from leaning into his space every few minutes.
At the end of all the presentations, when everyone is packing their things up, Vlad hands me a sheet of something that glints in the low light. When I hold it closer to my face and squint, I find the metallic outline of little stars.
I bite down against a smile.
“Aren't you going to award me one?”
“I think you've earned the whole sheet,” he murmurs back.
“Does that mean you’ve lowered the bar?” I tease, peeling one off. “I don't know that they go with my outfit.”
“Then you should put it somewhere it won't clash,” he returns, and I feel warm all over at the suggestion.
“Only if you find it later,” I tease, before I remember I can't really offer that.
Our other coworkers are gathering one last time in front of the hotel, and we smile at each other and put another step of distance between ourselves.
It’s the last night of the trip, and that fact makes my chest feel weirdly tight. I couldn’t wait for it to be over just a few days ago. I had been dreading this whole event for the months leading up to it.
And now...I don’t know what I want.
It’s not like I don’t miss my own bed. And being able to go hours and hours alone, undisturbed. Pretending to pay attention to everything that has nothing to do with my department is like having a second full time job.
I try to convince myself that I’m just dreading going back to my actual job after doodling my way through all day PowerPoint presentations and getting nothing done.
That’s it.
That's all.
There’s a ferry to take us down the river to dinner, though some of the more motion sickness prone members of our company figured out a carpool option to get to the restaurant. After about two minutes on the boat, I’m kind of wishing I took that option. It’s crowded and chilly and I have to listen to Deanna loudly telling Soven how she used to be a bodybuilder. I only tune in occasionally when I get bored of staring at the water, and I’m not sure if she means in the competitive way or the necromancy way.
Every so often, I glance at Vlad across the ferry and get a smile or cheesy wink from him. I have to fight against a smile. There hasn’t been a real moment alone with Vlad since we slept together, and it’s actively torturing me.
Which doesn’t make sense. It’s been long enough by now, and after that night in his hotel room, my needs should be sated. Really, I think I should have had enough Vitamin D to last a lifetime, but even looking at him now still makes my cheeks warm.
The ferry arrives at some fancy boathouse place—I didn’t catch the name when Lily announced it. I follow the tide of people.
It’s a little bit nice, I concede internally,to get to spend time with all of them and chat about nothing in particular.
“Alright party people, are you ready to join me in your personal empowerment?” a woman calls into a microphone, greeting us in a flair of flowing purple robes and a hood that obscures most of her face.
Kathy glances at me. “They can’t be serious. They got a speaker from the Cult of Productivity?”
“Gotta end all the corporate enthusiasm with a bang.”
“It’s not a cult, it’s team building,” Lily interjects as she shimmies past us, and jogs in heels over towards one of the boathouse staff members with her clipboard in hand.
