“Justin the office?”
“I…” she cleared her throat, trying to shake off the pleasure from my fingers. “I got used to having you around, all right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, urging her on.
“I’ve had many assistants come and go, but none of them did their job like you do.”
“Oh, Iknow.” I slipped a hand under my shorts even as I kept my fingers on her right nipple. “I bet none of them ever went out of their way to get your favorite brew every morning.”
Goosebumps traveled up my arms as I found my clit soaked and ready.
“I bet none of them organized your notes according to your meeting schedule.”
Something hard and insistent pressed up from under the sheet.
“And Iknownone of them let you fuck their throat and come in their mouth.” I paused. “At least, I hope not.”
“No,” she confirmed, her gaze trained on the fingers moving beneath my shorts. The soft satin left little to the imagination. “I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you, Dessi. Will you promise to come back to work for me?”
I slid two fingers inside me and shivered on top of her.
“Maybe,” I whispered, feeling my muscles contract around my fingers.
She lifted her hands to my hips, holding tight.
“Dessi…”
It was the plea in her tone that did it. Soft, breathless, laced with just enough desperation to make my ego soar.
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes as I lifted up and fell back down on my fingers. “Since you insist.”
She leaned over and pulled one of my nipples into her mouth, sucking hard.
I exhaled shakily, pleasure spiking like a heady twister.
“Dessi,” she whispered wetly against my skin, and I knew I wanted more of her. So much more than I could ever have in just a day.
“Fuck me, Alpha,” I ordered, and she tipped me onto my back to do exactly that.
Chapter Eleven
Aiven
We arrived at the Distillery separately as planned.
Dessi got out of her car with two silver tumblers and her work satchel. I watched as she called out to an employee whose name I could hardly remember and asked about his holidays. They chatted idly as they walked through the front doors together.
I wondered if she wore the little red dress just to mess with me. Sure, some might call it festive and somewhat modest, but I saw it for what it truly was: a tease. She wanted to torture me with the outline of her ass and the indents of her waist, knowing all too well that I wouldn’t be able tounremember how they felt beneath my palms.
Even through the glass doors, I thought I heard her voice call outgood morningandhow was your solstice?
If I walked in right now, all conversation would cease. People would clam up and shut down. Any lingering festive cheer would be wiped away. And so, I continued to sit in my car, watching the outline of the red dress as she caught up with the receptionists.
I hated how good she looked. If I noticed, I was sure others would, too. But no one else had the smell of Dessi’s cunt on their fingers. No, that privilege was all mine.
Filthydidn’t begin to describe my behavior. Despite telling her that I’d be heading home to wash and dress, I’d decided against the former. Instead, I still stunk of Dessi, thesweetness of her skin and sheets. Every breath I took pulled her to the forefront of my memories.
Curse it all, I could still feel her, the way her fingers dragged down my back, the way her moans had been muffled against the bed. I rubbed my face, trying to shake it off—trying to shakeheroff—but only succeeded in getting a deeper whiff of her pussy on my fingers.
