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My sex drive isn’t helping me keep my priorities straight.

“That isn’t the point. I’m not ruled by my panties.”

“Ruled? No. But let’s see if your panties and I can persuade you…”

Before I can breathe or form a coherent answer, Mr. Mysterious reaches beneath my suit skirt and grabs the panties in question. With a good yank, he rips them away and tosses them to the floor.

“You don’t wear those again this week, day or night. I want to know that pretty pussy is always bare and waiting for me all day.”

“At work⁠—”

“No one will know.” He freezes. “Unless you plan on showing someone you work with.”

Images of Noah—smiling, frowning in thought, shooting me a heated stare—flood my head. Instead of cooling my desire, the thought of giving Noah a glimpse of my bare, wet pussy makes my desire flare.

“Do you?” he demands.

“N-no,” I stammer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to show you.”

“Oh?” He slips his fingers into my wet slit, right over my clit, and gives it a soft slide. “You’re this wet and needy but you plan to ease yourself?”

As if I could… Only he makes me ache like this.

Even now, those fingers of his, just grazing my clit rhythmically, slowly destroy my defiance—and sanity. The coil of need wraps tighter and tighter low in my belly, right between my legs. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

But he knows.

“Don’t hold it in. Tell me how you feel.”

“Stop,” I grate out.

He does, instantly ceasing the lush, leisurely stimulation. But his fingers remain on my hard clit, which pulses under his touch, silently begging. At the sudden deprivation of his strokes, the ache between my legs becomes a cramp of pleasure-pain that weakens my knees.

Nothing in the world can stop the whimper that claws up my throat and out of my mouth.

“I know,” he murmurs gruffly. “I feel you under my fingertips. It’s the same way my cock throbs for you. Want me to make it better, sugar?”

Sugar. Noah calls me that. Always has. Mr. Mysterious isn’t Noah, who is apparently off chasing some divorcée too stubborn to see what a prize the man is. But with Mr. Mysterious’s build and deep whisper, there’s enough similarity between the two men that I can pretend Noah has his hands on me, tempting me into the white-hot pleasure that’s just a whisper of his fingertips away.

I wrestle with myself. Body versus mind. The preservation of my heart against the wailing demands of my clit.

It isn’t a contest.

“Yes.”

His fingers twitch—just enough to send the ache between my legs skyrocketing for an instant. “Are you sure?”

Now he’s just taunting me. “Damn you, do it!”

A slick glide of fingers, a gentle pinch of my clit. I gasp, air burning my throat at the quick intake. My head falls back against his hard shoulder. I melt into him.

“Do what?” Now his thumb enters the action, brushing right over the exposed bead of my clit. A line of pure fire shoots from my pussy down my legs, up my spine, to my breasts. Lord, what this man can do to me…

“Make me come. Fuck me.”

“I’m going to make you come. But I won’t fuck you until you’re so wet, your thighs are dripping with cream. And then…I’ll make love to you.”

Alarm bells go off in some distant part of my brain, but I’m lost in the blazing sensations, the way he sears me everywhere. Lost in the fantasy of Noah being the man behind me, fondling me into delirium.