Somehow, the conversation drifted, and I ended up telling her about the time I won a Mustang from a classmate in college.He resented the fact that I never had to try as hard as he did. Thought he could humiliate me at poker. He was wrong.
Instead, he lost his Mustang. And whatever dignity he had left, running two naked laps around his fraternity house.
I sold the car the next day for half its value. I didn’t want the car. I just wanted the point made, and it was.
“You know what? I think I believe you,” she says, teasing. “If anyone would do something like that, it would probably be a younger version of you.”
That makes me frown. “Are you saying I’ve gone soft with age?”
“On the contrary. Montgomery Clifford wouldn’t have the reputation it does without your iron fist.”
Her words pull a small smile from me, but when I shake my head, the movement tugs at my neck. I tense, hand going instinctively to the spot.
Before I can say anything, she’s already moving toward me. She takes my hand away from my neck, her touch light but certain.
“Did you hurt yourself? I can massage it, if you’d like.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s nothing. I just moved too quickly.”
She ignores that, stepping behind me and reaching for my tie.
“It’s no trouble,” she murmurs softly. “I’ll stop if it doesn’t help.”
Her breath brushes my ear as she speaks, sending a sensation through me that I choose to ignore. My tie slides off, landing on the desk. A moment later, her fingers move to the top buttons of my shirt.
I close my hand around hers. She lets out a soft chuckle.
“Don’t worry. Three buttons at most. I need skin-to-skin contact to relieve the tension.”
Reluctantly, I let her continue. True to her word, she doesn’t go past the third.
When her hands meet my skin, I hear her draw in a breath—a small sound that goes straight through me. My body reacts before I can stop it, the heat between us instant and unwelcome.
Her thumbs press into my shoulders, working slow, unhurried circles.
“You’re so tense,” she whispers. “You probably need this every day, with all the stress you deal with.”
I don’t answer. Speaking now wouldn’t do me any good. My pulse edges upward with every movement of her hands. After another minute, I reach up, covering them with mine, steadying both of us.
“Thank you, Maya,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “That’s enough. Let’s call it a night.”
She steps back into my line of sight, her fingers grazing my arm.
“Anytime you need me,” she says quietly, “just ask.”
But I barely register the words. My focus has narrowed… to the shape of her mouth, the rhythm of her breathing, and the silence that follows, charged enough to feel like a touch.
I yank her down, and she lands in my lap. Our lips crash together, words meaningless now. My tongue dives into hers, tasting her urgency and my own need.
Maya pulls away, rising, and before I can even grasp what’s happening, she hikes her dress up her thighs and straddles me.
I grip her ass, pushing her down against my hard cock. She moans into my mouth every time I guide her, the friction between our clothed bodies intensifying with each movement. Time slips away as we kiss, lost in it until I can’t hold back anymore.
I stand, still holding her, and set her on the sideboard behind my desk, pressing her body against the wall.
My cock strains against the fabric of my boxer briefs, the pressure almost unbearable.
For a heartbeat, we freeze, locked in this moment. Then her hand finds mine, guiding it to the zipper of her dress, and our mouths crash together again, devouring each other.
