Even now, in my office at headquarters, I am thinking about fucking her.
Right here, bent over my desk, taking it from behind.
On her knees, her mouth stretched around my cock.
On top of me, her hips moving faster, harder, her head tipped back, her perfect breasts bouncing with every thrust.
Fuck.
I adjust myself discreetly and shift my attention to the spreadsheet on the monitor.
My phone buzzes, and for one ridiculous moment, I think it is her.
Saying something.
Anything.
But no.
It is not.
It is Lorenzo.
Victoria has an issue with one of the access requests. He will email the details.
That is all.
My gaze shifts to the clock.
9:17.
She is here by now.
She is always on time. Usually early.
She must have found it by now, opened it. Run her fingers over the soft silk and lace.
I lean back in my chair and look toward the city beyond the windows.
What does she think?
Does she like it?
Did she try it on right away?
My body reacts to the image before I can stop it.
Victoria standing in her office, wearing nothing but midnight blue.
No.
I sit forward and reach for the top document on my desk.
Enough.
There are limits to how much time a man can spend thinking about a woman before he runs out of excuses for being completely unproductive.
I pick up my pen.
