I swallow convulsively as his fingers gently skirt around my waist, the pads of them running in three wicked lines over my side and then lower.
My whole body is vibrating with nerves. I know he must be able to feel it, but he says nothing.
Jesus, he’s gonna see right through me, and I’m gonna be fired before I even finish this interview.
His hand skims down to the base of my pencil skirt, and I inhale as discreetly as possible, as, without any hesitation, he pushes his hand underneath the hem and starts pulling it up.
Is the door even locked? What if someone walks in on us?
His hand pauses just for a second. “Is this okay?”
I manage a nod as his hand begins to rise again.
“The agency sent me your profile,” he murmurs as his fingers brush my inner thigh. “It really didn’t do you justice.”
My lips part as his fingers come to rest against my panties. For a few seconds, they don’t move, and then he pushes upward, rubbing against me, making me shudder as the tips of his fingers dip against my entrance.
Holy shit. This is really happening.
“Bend over the desk.”
He pulls his hands free. I don’t know whether he expects me to take off my clothes, or pleasure him, or what. I’m so out of my depth it’s almost laughable.
I walk to the glass desk, a vivid image of what I must look like from beneath it coming to mind as I press my body against it, my breasts squeezed against the surface.
I’m bent double, with him behind me, and I’m grateful for the solid surface which masks my trembling fingers. I lean against my forearms, staring ahead of me. Waiting.
“You have a beautiful body,” he murmurs, his hand skimming over my ass before, without warning, he pulls my skirt up and right over it.
I gasp as he runs his big palms over each cheek. Another grunt as he runs his fingers down the crease of my ass and all the way down to my clit.
His fingers grip my panties, tugging them down my legs. I’m totally exposed to a man for the first time in my life, and I’ve never felt less ready for anything. I swallow, trying to remain calm.
If I told him to stop, would he?
My panties fall to my shoes, I can feel them resting there, and I shift my right foot to free them.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
“Stretch your legs as wide as you can, panties too. I want them around your ankles when I fuck you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I do as he says, completely overwhelmed, my palms clammy against the desk.
“I have a few questions to ask you, Miss Brooks,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “It’s part of the interview process. Would that be alright?”
I feel the tip of one of his fingers push inside me, a stirring of something wonderfully pleasurable zinging through my body before I nod my head, unable to speak.
“Do you like it when men go down on you?”
My mouth falls open as a long, thick finger pushes into my body. I can’t help the moaning gasp I make at the feel of it.
“Hmm, I’m going to take that as a yes.”
I hear a rustle behind me, and then something hot and wet touches me, a wicked shivering sensation as he tongues my clit, lapping at it as I feel my whole body quiver beneath him.
A harsh cry falls from my lips as he pleasures me, and my fingers grip the table even harder as he pushes his tongue inside me. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, and it’ssublime.
