Her cheeks flush a deep, beautiful crimson. She looks away, her gaze darting around the empty hall, as if she’s worried someone might have seen her, might know.
But there’s no one here.
Just her and me.
After some internal debate, I watch as she slowly uncrosses her legs. The movement is hesitant, reluctant, but she does it.
She obeys.
I bite back another smirk.
I can only imagine what she's feeling right now. Her skirt constantly brushing her swollen, sensitive clit. Her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her bra with every breath she takes.
She's trapped in a prison of her own desire. And I'm the one who holds the key.
I want to text her again.
Rub your clit through your skirt. Right now.
I almost do. The thought of her, sitting at her desk, trying to maintain a professional demeanor while secretly touching herself for me, is incredibly tempting.
But I don't.
I want to draw this out. I want to savor this.
I want to see how long she can last.
I want to see how far I can push her.
I want to see her break.
But it's a damn good idea for tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty One
Erica
All morning, I try to be normal. I do my best to contain myself.
And then Nico sends me the text. I’ve never been much for cursing, but this would be a good reason to start.
Don’t cross your legs.
I stare at the message, and then look up. His office door is closed, there’s no one else in the room.
My eyes land on the security camera in the corner.
So, he’s watching me. He’s enjoying watching me struggle, is he?
I should just set my phone down and refuse to do it. What’s he going to do to me, really?
Having my legs crossed is the only thing that’s given me the tiniest bit of relief the last hour, and I’m not uncrossing them.
I stare at my phone blindly. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!
Slowly, careful not to cause any more friction, I uncross my legs.
Then go back to staring at my inbox and pretend I can’t feel my pulse jumping out of my skin.
