D—
Couldn’t say no to Vegas!
XXOO
Amy
“I talked to the girls today,” he said. “Most didn’t know where she’d gone, but apparently she told Darcy she’d been offered a desk job here—Chicago, I mean.”
“So she changed her mind at the last minute,” I guessed. “Probably a guy involved—and sent Darcy a postcard so she’d know.” All in all, it seemed clear cut. Though it still bugged me that she hadn’t gotten in touch with Candy, too.
“You’re welcome to talk to Darcy tomorrow. She worked the lunch shift today, so she’s already gone. But I don’t really see the need for you to play undercover operative. Unless you’re thinking about it in a bedroom role-playing capacity, in which case we can keep negotiations open.”
“Funny,” I said, turning the chair slightly so I could see him better. “But I still want to dance.”
“Why?”
Because I wanted to learn the truth about who Tyler was and what he did. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I turned to a different truth. “Because I liked it.”
“Did you?” He slid off the desk and put his hands on the arms of his chair, caging me in. He pushed it back, giving him room to kneel in front of me.
My pulse kicked up in anticipation of his touch, but all I said was, “Tyler.”
“I liked the way you looked up there,” he said, then moved his hands to rest them on my bare knees. “I liked the way you looked at me.”
“All those men,” he continued, his voice low and intimate as he gently spread my thighs, making me just a little crazy. Making me just a little wet.
“Watching you. Wanting you. And you wanted me.”
“Yes. Oh, god, yes.”
One hand began to gently stroke my thigh, teasing me, but moving no higher than where the hem of the jacket brushed my skin. With his other hand, he reached for the jacket, and cleverly flipped open the top button.
“That’s your opening offer, isn’t it?” He popped the other button open. “The deal you came to negotiate? I let you dance at Destiny, and you let me touch you?”
He used both hands now to push apart the lapels of the jacket, revealing my breasts, my abdomen, and those pretty silk panties. “Isn’t that like making a deal with the devil?” he asked, as his hand trailed down, making me tremble, then over the panties to find me so very, very wet.
“Or maybe you just like playing with the bad boys,” he said, as he slipped a finger deep inside me.
I arched back, gasping.
“Hook your legs over the chair’s arms,” he ordered.
“Tyler, no—”
“Do it.”
I did, and he lowered his mouth to my sex, using one hand to pull the panties and G-string aside, and the other to tilt the chair back until it seemed like I would fall. I was head-down, completely at his mercy, open and wide and essentially helpless.
And I was desperately, hopelessly, turned on.
He ran his tongue the length of me, and I shook as a storm of sparks rocketed through me, the sensation all the more spectacular because of the way the chair rocked with my arousal.
“This won’t work,” Tyler said.
“No,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.”
But he was opening the desk drawer, pulling out scissors. “I need both hands to keep the chair from toppling,” he said, then cut the panties right off me before tossing the scissors onto the floor with a metallic clank.