The air between us felt heavy, hard to breathe.
“Madison…” I started.
“Went to lunch,” he finished for me, towering over me, stepping closer. I had to turn to keep eye contact, backing myself up against the desk. “I’m starving too.”
His hands went to my hips, pushing until I sat off the edge of the desk.
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings as he dropped into his chair and leaned closer.
His hands went to my knees and pressed my legs wide.
Then he was reaching up my shorts, yanking the leg and my panties to the side, ducking his head, and running his tongue up my cleft.
I’d never been more thankful for an outfit choice in my life as my hand went to the back of his head, holding him to me as he licked, sucked, and drove me up.
“Harrison.” I breathed out his name, the ache inside telling me exactly what I needed.
His head turned up, pupils blown wide, his need as clear as my own.
I slid forward until I stood in front of him. Then pushed down my shorts and panties.
A low rumble moved through him as his hand went to his pants, yanking at his belt, pushing through his button, then pushing down his zipper.
He reached in, fisting his cock, and stroked himself once, twice, making me need to press my thighs together as the ache grew.
“Turn around,” he demanded, his gaze molten. “Bend over the desk.”
Heat flared as I did as I was told.
Then he was on his feet, standing behind me, pressing his cock against me.
His hand went to my shoulder, holding me in place, then he slammed deep inside me.
My moan mingled with his rough curse as he filled me completely.
There was nothing then but the need, the rush of our bodies, the pleasure that grew until it burst, both of us coming hard.
The hazy aftermath didn’t last long, though.
Harrison seemed to recover first, straightened, then slid out of me and away.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said, seeming to speak mostly to himself as I reached down to yank my panties and shorts back into place.
“Why not?” I asked, more hurt than I’d anticipated.
“It’s… not good for us.”
“I’m pretty sure that was good for both of us,” I countered, confused as I watched him zip back up and refasten his belt.
His gaze flicked to mine for just a second. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Being with you is…” he floundered to find the word for a moment, “it’s incredible.”
“But?” I prompted, sensing it hanging in the air.
“But,” he agreed, “it is… emotionally expensive.”
