My body, apparently, doesn’t require a brain to function. There’s no hesitation before I turn, take three steps, push everything on the surface to one side, and plant my hands on the edge.
“Bend over.”
What? No! Yes! Oh god, god, god, god, god. Tell me what to do. Make me, make me, make me, make me.
I’m a hot mess.
The sound of Grant moving closer makes me jump and breathe deeply through my nose and then whimper silently when his hand lands on my nape.
Warm. Dry. Solid.
My eyelids sink closed. A long, relieved sigh oozes out of my lungs.
“That’s it.That’sit,” Grant says.
Oh wow. That feels… like a drug. Calming. Steadying.
“Do you want to please me, Sunny?”
I nod.
No pressure on my neck. Just the light rub of rough fingers. “Then you’ll bend over this desk.”
And I’m down. Was there ever any doubt that I’d obey? But the heavy hand on my back tells me it’s not enough. Hands sliding along my desk, I go lower, lower, until my forehead presses to cold wood.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Something brushes against my naked ass, startling me. A heartbeat later, his hand skates over my skin again, and my back arches of its own volition.
“Ge’ wha’?” I attempt to ask.
“No questions.” He pinches my ass, too gently to hurt, but my god, does it have an effect on my libido. As if I weren’t turned on enough by this situation, the quick twist of flesh makes me squirm uncontrollably. “If you want to stop, or if you’re not sure, you smack the desk. Got it?” A quick, painless slap of my butt to illustrate, and I’m so far gone, I swear I’ll cry if he stops.
“Got it, Sunny?”
I lift my head and give a frantic nod.
He laughs darkly, moves back a step, and, I suspect, just watches the show. “Yeah. That’s it. Show me what’s mine. What I get to play with.”
His? Oh god.His.
I swallow around the list in my mouth and turn my head to the side, catching the eye of my capybara pen cup, judging me from the other side of the desk. I reach out and turn it around.
Grant’s footsteps recede but then return. He throws his jacket over my copious desktop tchotchkes. “Better?” At my nod, he says, “Shut your eyes.”
I obey.
“Good girl.” Slowly, barely touching me, Grant runs the backs of his knuckles over my skin. Up and down over one butt cheek, to the other side. After a few slow strokes, his knuckles press in harder, moving my flesh in something almost like a massage. Down, left, a quick dip into the crevice, and up.
“You flaunted this sweet, soft body all day, didn’t you?”
I shake my head, and suddenly it’s not knuckles anymore. It’s a thwack, swift and startling. The sting is quick, bright. Barely registers as pain at all.
“Liar. You wanted me to look.”
I react, pressing my breasts against the desk and my ass out.
“That’s it. Show me. Look at you, all soft curves and dimples and this…” He slides his hand down, down, and then in to where my thighs press tightly together. It’s the very worst place for chub rub. The seat of pain and shame for so many years of my youth. “This curve right here,” he says, slipping his hand between my thighs and gently cupping one side. “Just…” A loud exhale. “Turns me on so hard.”
