His gaze was piercing as he took me in, trailing his eyes from my face to my legs and back, lingering on my breasts.
“If he isn’t called out on speaking to any woman like that then he’ll never understand that it’s not right. I wouldn’t have him speak to my mother or my sisters in that way, and definitely not you.” He stopped talking and licked his lips. “Georgia…”
It took me less than a second to be in front of him, my hands running from his chest down to the belt of his suit pants, untucking his shirt and running my fingers over the scattering of hair that led from his abs and laddering up to his chest. He’d caught my lips in a pressing kiss, and before I knew it, my shirt was untucked and his hands were seeking out my skin like it was some precious manna.
I was led backwards so my back was against the wall, any worries about anyone hearing us or trying to get in, erased by the sheer sudden need between my legs. I hooked one ankle up to his waist, pushing my hips towards his, seeking closer contact.
This was wrong. It was unprofessional. It was career threatening. It was feeling so fucking good.
Every muscle I felt on Seph was tense, wound up tight like some spring about to go off, and I wondered what it would take to make him explode, here in this room filled with antique furniture gathered through the life of the law firm I was a partner in.
I felt his erection through his trousers, pushing up against my centre. It would be so easy to bustle up my skirt, undo his flies and let him push inside, take me against the wall. The very thought of it made me moan into his mouth and scratch my nails down his chest to his waist.
His lips left mine, his hands starting to undo the buttons on my shirt.
We needed to stop.
We should stop.
Every button seemed to take an age to undo, the cooler air of the room making me acutely aware of the every bareness of my chest.
As soon as my shirt was undone enough for my bra to be exposed, he pushed down the cups, exposing my tits, nipples already hard.
“Fuck.” He murmured the word, then said nothing more as he took one, nipping with his mouth and sucking roughly. This time my moan was audible, not smothered by his kiss.
One of my hands pressed between us, cupping his hard cock, feeling him thicken more with my touch.
His mouth switched to my other breast, one of his hands pushing up under my skirt to my panties. In a second they’d been pushed down, his fingers running from my entrance to my clit, spreading wetness that should’ve been embarrassing but he’d caused it, this want. This need.
“If you want me to stop tell me now, otherwise I’m going to make you come.”
I didn’t respond back with words, just directed his mouth back to my nipple and urged my hips forward.
He pushed a finger inside of me, the base of his hand rubbing against my clit. Another finger entered me and I felt my orgasm rushing like a tsunami about to break a dam.
It’d been a long time since any man had touched me like this, but my body hadn’t forgotten what to do, and Seph did know what he was doing. He carried on fingering me, creating a rhythm that had me craving his cock inside me instead of his fingers, wanting to know what it was like to be fucked by him, roughly, needfully, like what he was doing now.
One hard suck on my nipple and I started to pulse around his fingers, knowing my wetness was coating his hand as I came. He didn’t let up, keeping up the work he was doing on my breast and the hard, demanding ask of his hand. My legs almost gave way and I just about managed not to cry out loudly.
When he removed his hand, he took his fingers straight to his mouth, his other hand on my hip. His eyes stared at my tits, my nipples hard and swollen from his mouth and my orgasm.
“You taste fucking gorgeous. I want to get my mouth on you and have you come on my tongue.”
My hand stroked his cock through his pants, my fingers playing with his zipper. “I want you to fuck me.”
His eyes met mine, dark with lust.
“How much do you want me to fuck you?”
I grinned and I knew it was dirty. “Feel how wet I am.”
His hand dropped back to between my legs, two fingers pushing gently inside me, moving in and out.
“Holy fuck, Georgia…”
A knock at the door stopped any more words.
“Seph, you’ve a call from Matt Ball about the Wrigley file.” It was Tobi, one of the receptionists who wouldn’t have a clue what was going on behind that door he’d just knocked on.
