deepest part of me. One of her hands glides over my shirt along my shoulders and chest, lighting me on fire. Her legs pull my straining hard-on tighter against her molten core.
There’s only the thin lace of her panties and the denim of my jeans separating us. I curse them both. At this moment, the one thing my mind, body, and soul all agree on is that I need to be inside this woman. In my entire pathetic life, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to bury myself to the root inside all this wet heat.
Finally, I let down my guard, close my eyes, kiss her with reckless abandon, and lose myself in all of her. With my eyes closed, my other senses heighten. Every inch of her soft pressed against all my hard sets my blood boiling. The scent of Ivory soap that always lingers around her is now laced with a hint of sweat and sex that sends my libido into a tailspin. Her hungry mouth tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever had as it licks and bites and sucks my tongue. The fingers of the hand that’s not tugging my mouth greedily against hers by the fistful of hair she refuses to let go, have slipped under the tails of my button-down and are dancing ever so lightly over the taut skin of my abdomen at the waistband of my jeans, urging my cock to lengthen toward them. I want those delicate fingers wrapped around me, squeezing and stroking. I need to feel her skin on mine.
Our mouths grind greedily against each other as my right hand slips from her ass, over the fabric of her skirt to the silky skin of her thigh. I trace the lace edge of her panties with my index finger over the curve of leg toward my target—all that blazing heat at the apex of her thighs. But just as I’m slipping my finger underneath, there’s a sound. I barely register it, but she gasps and that honey mouth is gone from mine. Her hands push against my chest, but it’s not until she pants, “Rob, the bell.” that I gain my senses and open my eyes.
Her eyes are wide, but they don’t leave mine as she drags the back of her knuckles under her mouth, wiping away our kiss.
I back away as she tugs the ponytail holder out of her hair. I’ve pulled it most of the way loose in all my pawing and groping. She looks totally ravaged. Her hair falls loose, those silky blond waves spilling over one side of her face and cascading around her shoulders. At the fleeting image of her in my bed, that hair strewn loose over my pillow, I feel my dick threaten to burst through the zipper of my jeans.
Christ, she’s sexy. And what makes her even sexier is that she has no fucking clue.
She combs her fingers through her mane, sweeps it back from her face, tames it into the holder again. When she slips off the desk and smooths her skirt back into place, I can’t help wishing it were my hands gliding over those hips. A second later, other than swollen lips, there’s nothing about her that says she was within a hairsbreadth of being fucked on the edge of her desk not one minute ago. But as she reaches for the doorknob, reality intrudes on my fantasy. A spike of unexpected fear stabs through my gut.
What I just did was so far over any reasonable line. She’s already digging into places she has no business. In my mindless lust-fog, have I just given her leverage? An advantage? But shock reverberates through me like the crash of cymbals when I realize the knot in my gut has nothing to do with my family’s safety and everything to do with whether I’ve just blown any chance with her.
Before she opens the door, she glances over her shoulder and arches her perfect blond eyebrows at me. “You might want to do something about yourself.”
I glance down and see the bottom three buttons of my wrinkled shirt are undone, exposing the sizable bulge in my jeans. When did she do that?
I tug a hand down my face, rub away the evidence of my lapse in judgment, button up, and will my dick to behave as I yank at the wrinkles in my shirt.
She opens the door, and kids stream into the room.
In my life I’ve had plenty to feel