A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “Yes.”
My hand slides up her thigh, grazing bare skin, fingers brushing the heat that pulses just beneath. “I watched you through lunch. I sat close enough to touch you, and you didn’t realize.”
I let my mouth drift closer, breath warm against her ear. “Does that turn you on?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“We’re alone, in the dark, middle of the day.” My hand moves higher, thumb stroking the damp lace stretched tight between her thighs. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
“Anything you want,” she whispers, voice trembling, body tightening.
That’s all it takes.
I grip the hem of her skirt, hiking it up, baring the soft skin of her thighs. She shivers, and there’s a faint hitch in her breath as I crowd closer. My fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her legs, savoring every inch, every tiny tremble that moves through her as the fabric slides past her knees, calves, and ankles.
My fingers tighten around the scrap of lace, damp from her pussy. I bring it to my face, breathing her in, starving for her.
“Divine,” I growl, voice rough and raw. “Fucking delicious.”
I press the fabric to my face, inhaling again, deeper this time. “You smell better than perfume. Better than anything I’ve ever fucking known. Like sex and sin and something made just for me.”
I drag the lace beneath my nose. “They should bottle your pussy and call it salvation.”
I lick the crotch, slow and deliberate. “But they’d never get it right. You can’t replicate this kind of perfection.”
She lets out a sound, soft and needy, as she leans against the wall. I can barely see her in the dark, but I don’t need light to know what I’ve done to her.
I slide her panties into my pocket. A trophy. “I’m keeping these. Don’t ask for them back.”
My mouth grazes the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, teeth scraping over skin. My hands reach for her hips, moving slowly, memorizing every twitch and shiver.
“Of all the ways you’ve imagined me fucking you, was this one of them? A dark restaurant closet, middle of the day?”
She shudders, and her breath catches.
“No,” she whispers.
A dark chuckle rumbles from my chest as I press my hips forward, letting her feel how hard I am.
“That’s because you can’t imagine all the ways I plan to fuck you,” I say, mouth grazing over her neck. “But you will, baby. You will.”
She gasps, breath hitching hard. “Someone could walk in on us any minute.”
My mouth grazes her ear, teeth scraping over the delicate edge. “That’s what’s so thrilling.”
My hand is under her skirt again, inching higher. “You’re already wet thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“Touch me,” she whispers, voice trembling, breath short. “Find out for yourself.”
Challenge accepted.
My fingers slide between her thighs and fuck—she’s soaked. It’s the kind of wet that ruins self-control.
The groan that tears from my throat is low and jagged. “Fuck, Laurette.”
I cup her, dragging my fingers through that slick heat.
“Oh, you naughty girl.”
