Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He twisted the chair side-to-side, staying silent with his eyes roaming over me for so long that anticipation bubbled higher and higher until I almost screamed.
“Climb on the desk, princess. Face me.”
My chest compressed, squeezing the air from my lungs. Somehow, I managed to stand on shaky legs and hold my chest upright to avoid flashing him. However, each shift caused the material to stroke my nipples, twisting the tension higher and higher.
He followed my every move until I sat perched atop his desk with my back pulled tight and my thighs clenched together. With a quirked smile, he sat forward and rested his hands on my knees, wedging first his thumbs between them. Then he added another finger until he was able to slowly pry them apart.
My loose skirt fell between my parted thighs, offering a false sense of safety. Even though he touched me, he had never seen me. And at the level he sat at, if he pulled my skirt back, he’d see all of me.
Not that he was looking.
“Lift,” he ordered with his eyes on mine.
His fingers grazed up my outer thighs until they hooked into my panties. Once I raised myself enough, he pulled them down achingly slow before doing as he did the other night and shoved them in his pocket.
“Another for your collection?” I asked breathlessly.
Another quirk of his lips and a deep hum of pleasure.
He opened a drawer between my legs and pulled out a bag of clothespins.
“I didn’t know the supply department offered items for laundry.” I hoped making a statement instead of asking would allow me to bend the rules.
“Hardly,” he responded dryly, letting me know he knew what I was trying to do. “I bought these on the way to work today.”
“Oh.” Just for me. I kind of hated the way that fact set a flutter rioting in my chest. I explained it away as being grateful they weren’t left-over sex accessories from some time he invited Emily up here. The thought trapped all the butterflies and squashed them.
Shit.
My mind screeched to a halt.
Did he have Emily up in his office? Would he continue to have her up here?
I hadn’t asked—hadn’t even thought to.
Shit.
I didn’t want—
I couldn’t—
Wisps of doubts and objections flew through my head, but the occasional breeze working its way under my bra and between my thighs distracted me too much to latch on to anything.
“Open your blouse.”
His deep command banished the lingering thoughts, and I swallowed. My eyes flicked between the clothespins and his hands casually resting on the desk outside my thighs, trying to anticipate or stall or figure out his plan or all of the above.
But it didn’t matter because all I wanted was to not think and just feel.
My heart thundered, sending pulsing waves rushing between my ears. My lungs struggled to expand enough to take a deep breath. My fingers tingled from the grip around the desk, failing to let go and do as he ordered. His hard gaze pinned me to the spot, leaving no room for me to hold back now. So, one finger at a time, I released my hold and moved to my shirt, where I hesitantly pulled it away from my heaving chest.
If possible, my nipples pulled tighter, sending a wave to between my legs. When I tried to ease the ache and pull my knees closed, his hands latched onto each thigh and held them apart, never taking his eyes from the hardened tips.
His tongue slicked across his lips, and I pinned mine under my teeth to hold back the moan clawing for freedom from my throat, imagining his mouth elsewhere. His eyes roved across my chest like a hungry animal.
I’d never felt sexier or more terrified at once under the intensity of his attention.
“First,” he explained, grabbing a clothespin. “We will begin with clamping your nipples.”
He stood, towering over me, and I fell back. My palms encountered papers, and I shoved them aside until I found the slick wooden surface. Calloused fingertips started at the band of my skirt and skated up my stomach to my sternum before shifting over the swell of my breast to my nipple. While his stroke up my body lulled me into a sense of relaxation, his grip around my bud jolted me into a pained craze.
He gripped the sensitive tip and twisted and turned with continued brushes of his thumb to tease me to the edge.
“Such a perfect nipple,” he crooned, bringing the clip higher. “I can’t wait to see how deep it blushes with the pressure.” I cried out as he placed the clip around my tip and gasped when his thumb did one last sweep. “So sensitive.”
My hips struggled to remain still as he repeated the process with the other nipple. By the time he sat back in his chair, I writhed while moisture built between my thighs.