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I’d sure be grateful to be proved wrong and that fountain to fucking deliver.
I held onto that thought until the night finally sucked me up into the darkness.
There were still no messages the next morning. I went about my usual business and suited myself up smart. I put Anna’s filthy panties back in my pocket and let the dogs out before setting off, and made my way into my working week.
It was a busy Monday, and busy Tuesday to match. Keith and Ralph had a shit ton of reports to push on with, and we had to drag Moose in on Wednesday, which was always a whole fresh round of a battle. Anna and I texted, but it felt distant, no matter what we said. It was never a substitute for having her in my arms. Plus, we never had an answer. Not anything that sounded truly positive to make it through this with everyone on side.
I jerked off into those filthy panties every night of the week, and several snippets of afternoons on top. It was a welcome relief, sure, but not anywhere near enough for thoughts of my dirty minx not to drive me fucking crazy through every fucking lousy minute.
It was Thursday evening when I first got a message through from my mother. I was already churning sick without a response back from Maya, with the inevitable pang of fear stabbing every time I weighed up what options I had to take.
Her message was short and sharp and unforgiving.
Sort yourself the hell out, Lucas. Don’t you dare lose Maya and Millie.
Like I wasn’t fucking trying to see my fucking daughter.
I was back in my office and feeling the pressure by the time my Friday afternoon took a turn for the better. A parcel landed on my desk from one of the reception team, and looked quite a strange little spectacle.
I turned it over in my hands, puzzled to shit as I wondered what the hell it was. It was hand scrawled with nothing but a simple Lucas Pierce, Director of Security and Cryptology on the front, and my heart leapt as I recognised the scribble.
No. Fucking. Way.
It had already been opened to check it passed through security clearance, and I laughed out loud when I tipped the contents out on my desk.
Pink lace, still wet at the crotch, a perfect gift on a dull as hell work day.
I checked there was nobody lurking outside my room before I unzipped and worked that fresh pair of panties up and down my cock. I was rock hard and throbbing in barely a minute, well on my way to shooting my load by the time I called up my phone camera and fired her a photo message.
Nice present, you dirty little minx.
I added a tongue out emoticon, and she sent one right back.
And then she sent kisses.
I didn’t know how the hell she’d made it over with the parcel without racing through her lunch break at lightning speed, but I was equally quick in my response, calling up her name online and finding her photo and title in the PR section of Lewton’s Consultancy.
I scrawled down their address on an envelope of my own, then grunted hard as I shot one hell of a fucking load onto those filthy fucking panties and wiped up every fucking drip from my cock.
Oh yes, Anna, my sweet fucking love. Take this.
I was smirking as I summoned a courier via reception, and still trying to hold back the grin under a guise of professionalism as they came to collect my package.
“Anna Blackwell, direct into her hands, please.”
My instructions were clear, and I reclined in my chair until the ping came through, barely twenty minutes later.
OMG, Lucas. Just OMFG!!
My reply was sent in a heartbeat.
Send me a picture of you enjoying the gift. I’m waiting.
I hovered around my desk for another few minutes, dragging the wait out as long as possible considering I had a meeting to head into. It seemed she was in the same predicament as I was.
I can’t, her message read. I have a team discussion about Kershaw’s.
My mouth was watering as I typed.
Fuck Kershaw’s. Go to the bathroom and send me that pic.
Another tongue out smiley came through and I waited as long as I dared before I joined Ralph in the meeting room and waited for the rest of the security management team to make their appearance.
The seats were full and conversation was buzzing heavy by the time my phone next vibrated in my pocket. And I couldn’t stop myself sneaking a glance at my photo message. Not for a second.
Oh fuck.
It was fucking glorious.
She had her head tipped to the side, eyes on the camera as she held those panties up nice and high against her open mouth. Her tongue was stretched out and lapping at the filthy crotch, and she was smiling. Smirking. Loving it. Her eyes were twinkling damn fucking bright enough for my balls to ache at the sight.
