A gentleman should never comment on the size of a lady’s ass.
Me
There isn’t an ounce of gentleness left in me when I think about your ass, Andrea.
Even from here, I see the way she blushes before putting her phone back down. And I also see the way she squirms, even though she tries to be discreet about it. Fuck, I’m tempted yet again to become her chair so she could writhe on my face like that instead.
I try to work for a moment, but every time I catch her subtle movements in the corner of my eye, I’m taken out of it.
Me
Stop wriggling like that. It’s distracting.
Andrea Walker
That’s called the consequences of your own actions, Alexander. Now, stop staring and start working.
Me
Right away, boss.
I’m trying to focus on my screen again when she sends another text, which I didn’t expect.
Andrea Walker
Good boy.
Fucking hell… That sends another flow of blood right into my cock. When I peek at her, she has her eyes on her screen, doing her best to swallow back a smile. I really am miserably in love—as Kevin put it.
Eventually, I get out of her enchanting hold and put my head back in the game. The morning unfolds like usual, with the guys asking for my help now and then. It’s like nothing has changed, like we never left for Seoul, like we never disrupted the routine. But everything feels different now.
When another text comes in, it’s Kevin instead of Andrea.
He-Man
We’re moving the meeting with Peterson to lunch. I booked a table at the French place. We’re leaving in half an hour.
I acknowledge his text with a thumbs up and turn to the room. “I have a meeting that starts in half an hour until sometime mid-afternoon. If you need help, ask for it now.”
The guys shake their heads, already good with my help throughout the morning. But when my eyes pan to Andrea, she raises her arm. “I could use a hand,” she says.
Before I can stand to join her, she rises from her chair and comes around the desks to come to me instead. My gaze is on her the whole time, lingering on her bare legs, the edge of her skirt, and the nervous fingers that fidget with it. Thishasto be against HR’s strict rules.
I’m still obsessing over her skirt when she arrives next to me, close enough to see this is all skin with no tights or pantyhose over it. Because she’s the most sadistic little tease I’ve ever encountered, she stretches up as if alleviating a sore back. It brings the skirt a good two inches up, and I fight the urge to tug it down myself. What’s under there belongs to my eyes only.
“What’s your issue?” I ask, forcing myself to look at the screen instead.
“May I?” she wonders, pointing at my mouse and keyboard.
I nod and roll my chair to the side just a little. She bends at the hips, and I’m tempted to protect her modesty once more. There’s nothing but a wall behind us, so no one can see whatever she reveals leaningover like this. But I’m sure there’s something to be seen, given how high the skirt has risen.
She’s either unaware or did it intentionally because she casually looks for her file in the shared server. She finds it, opens it, and scrolls through the code to find the right section.
As if I could focus on any of this shit right now.
“Okay, so this is supposed to work on Windows phones,” she explains. “But I can’t—”
My hand, which acted on impulse, found its way to her leg, to the inside of her knee. She freezes, looks around, and when she sees that they’re all focused on their work, most of them with their headphones on, she relaxes a fraction. And in any case, no one can see my hand on her given the screens and desk arrangements.
