Music filtered through the hallway, chilled out dance tunes that I recognised as Georgia’s work jam. I paused at our office door, hearing stirring behind it, rapidly typing fingers busy on a keyboard.
She was here. After hours.
I knocked hard on the door, not wanting to make her jump just by walking in. The offices at night were quiet and it was an old building. I’d been on both sides of making someone jump late at night in here.
“Come in.” She shouted the words and I heard a shadow of nerves in them.
“It’s only me.” I went in and saw Georgia wearing sweats and a baggy hoodie that looked like it’d been washed more times than Rose’d had hot dinners.
“Hello, only you.” She gave me a huge, tired, sweet smile. “You here to work on the Dalston file?”
“How did you guess?” I closed the door and leaned against it, liking how she looked. It reminded me of Saturday morning, tired from a night of sex, laid back and languid.
She shrugged and pushed her laptop away from her, standing up and stretching. The hoodie was short enough to expose a slither of smooth belly as she did so. “Same here. I needed to get an advice done to send out tomorrow and draft an email to counsel, but I just couldn’t get it done during the day. I think I’ve been interrupted about three gazillion times.”
Her sweats were fitted snugly, something I noticed as she moved round to the front of her desk, leaning against it. It felt like months since I’d touched what was under them, felt the silky smoothness of her skin, kissed my way up to the apex of her thighs.
“You’re not going to get much work done if you keep looking at me like that.” There was a reverberation in her voice, a tremble.
I’d been staring, tracing her curves with my eyes; thinking about how Friday had been, how Saturday morning had been, how none of it had been enough.
“Is there anyone else in the building?” I locked the door. It clicked satisfyingly.
“No. I don’t think so. Reg said he was the last one and reminded me to put the lock on the door.” Her voice had dropped to a murmur.
“So we’re on our own?” My words hung heavy in the air.
“We’re on our own.”
The lights of the city flickered behind her, the window wide open and exposed, only no one was looking in. There was no irritating housemate to interrupt; no chance of a small little girl walking in. We were alone. Something we hadn’t been for days.
I wanted to know again what her skin felt like under mine, wanted to remember how she said my name when she came, how her body moved when I touched that sweet spot just under her ear.
It took less than three strides to have me at her desk, my arms either side of her, resting on the old heavy wood that had been there for years.
I didn’t ask. Didn’t wait for permission because her eyes said it all. Lust, attraction, need, want – it was all there in them, reflecting exactly what was in mine.
I crushed my lips to hers, pausing for a second for her response. It came immediately, her hand on the back of my head, deepening the kiss immediately, her other hand running down my chest, like she’d done on Friday. I didn’t have a complex about how I looked, I was pretty confident that I wasn’t ugly, but she made me feel like I was ten feet tall and could take on Goliath with my little finger with the way she would look at me.
Or touch me.
I inched back, needing to look at her and take her in. She was wide eyed with her lips parted, her chest heaving, spellbinding me. Thought, finesse, rationality – they all evaporated. Need was my driver; need for her, Georgia.
There was desperation in the next kiss, slow, deep touches which became quicker and harder. I lifted her up onto the desk, pushing her papers out of the way, then put my attention on her hoodie, pulling it up over her stomach and tits, breaking our mouths apart so it could come lose and leave her bra exposed. It was semi-sheer, her nipples visible through it, their hardness making my dick think all his Christmases had come at once.
Her skin tasted of her, a flavour that was becoming my favourite. I savoured, trailing my tongue over her, wanting to take my time while I knew we had it, but three days without being inside her was making me feel deprived.
Georgia unzipped my hoodie, pushing her hands under it and my T-shirt, and then lower to my sweats, palming my dick, making it impossibly harder.
The desk was old and steady, solid oak that I knew was almost too heavy to lift. We shifted about, somehow managing to lose her sweats and push down mine without breaking contact.
“Need a condom.” The words were forced out. My eyes fixed on her almost bare pussy. I hadn’t touched her there yet, because I knew as soon as I did, I’d be unable to focus on anything else apart from making her say my name.
“Bag.” She reached for the oversized handbag she never went anywhere without, and I took the opportunity to sink down between her legs, holding her thighs and tasting her like she was my favourite meal.
She gave up being tidy, pushing the bag off the next moment with a condom in her hand. She lay back on the desk, her whispered moans the best thing I’d heard.
I moved my mouth off her. “Take your bra off and play with your tits.” I wasn’t sure whether she’d do it, uncertain of how confident she was. I knew before Friday she hadn’t slept with anyone since she got pregnant, something that made me feel like a peacock with an extra tail.
