We’re already running absurdly behind schedule, having supposed to have left my office at five a.m. this morning. Instead, I’m sorting through the multitude of suitcases and bags, as in plural, that Marin brought along for our trip. She obviously doesn’t know the meaning of packing light.
I hold up a pair of baby-blue lace thongs, my gaze sliding from the undergarment to Marin’s face. She wears a look of horror and swipes it out of my hand.
“Oh my God. Really? You have to humiliate me like this?”
In the span of a week since our initial interview, I’ve learned that I have a way of pushing Marin’s buttons. And it rather turns me on. So, I continue to do it any chance I get.
I guffaw. “Had you packed appropriately, I wouldn’t have to rifle through your unmentionables. Although, it is quite illuminating. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a thong-type girl.”
Marin audibly screeches. “That is the most sexist and chauvinistic thing anyone has ever said to me!”
Foot meet mouth. But come on. She dressed like little Pollyanna the first time I met her. I’d have expected cotton white briefs out of a girl like her. Not sexy lingerie meant to drive men crazy with lust.
And let me tell you, there’s no way I’m ever going tounseethose lacy thongs and they will forever be etched in my spank bank, along with the vision of her wearing them for me. Or better yet, me slowly removing them to bare her slick pussy.
I clear my throat and covertly adjust my dick, which has decided it really likes that idea.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed that we’re running late and I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. It’s not my intention to start a war here. We just need to condense your bags into one travel bag and do it fast so we can get going. Can you do that?”
She scoffs. “Fine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”
I stand up and place my hands on my hips with a frustrated sigh, surveying the mess I’ve made of Marin’s things. But I must say, the view is rather nice. Marin sits back on her heels, kneeling over the suitcases with her backside to me, looking like a sexy submissive. Her jeans showcase her tight ass and trim waist. It takes every bit of restraint I own not to run my fingers down her spine and squeeze the shit out of her luscious curves.
Her voice interrupts my lascivious thoughts. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
My own voice sounds unusually deep and gravely as I stick my hands in my pockets. “What? I’m not staring. I’m contemplating firing you already.”
She gives me a look of horror. “Really?” she says in a panic and I feel like a mofo for scaring her like that.
“No, just hurry it along.”
Marin stands and I can’t keep my eyes off her toned legs. Even though they’re covered by denim, they are long and sleek. Perfect for wrapping around my…
“I’m ready. Let’s go then.” I force my gaze toward the door, grab my bag and head out to the awaiting Towne Car parked outside my office.
We head to the airport in silence, my attention focused on my iPad and the notes that Jose sent me yesterday, mostly so I keep my eyes off of Marin. I’m eager to land in San Jose so I can concentrate on my research rather than the sweet, florally scent of Marin’s perfume that wafts through the backseat of the car. Or the way her chest rises and falls in the slow rhythm of her breaths. Or how my mind keeps wandering back to those blue thongs and whether she’s wearing similar panties right now.
We arrive at the airport just in time, as I climb out of the car and adjust my stiff cock that’s been straining in my pants all morning and silently warn him to stand down.
Otherwise, this trip will be one helluva long-ass month.
* * *
The flight was long,but I endured it. As we complete the Customs process, we grab our bags and meet Jose out in the airport mezzanine. He greets me with a toothy-grin and arms wide open.
“Amigo! So good to see you again. I’ve missed your grouchy disposition,” he exclaims, wrapping an arm around me for a hug and then stepping back to grab a bag from my hand.
Marin makes a snarky snort noise as Jose peers around me, snapping his gaze between her and me.
“Well, well, well. This must be Marin, our new research assistant. And she ismuy bellos, non?”
I peek over my shoulder at Marin, her smirk giving me the proverbial middle finger. She greets Jose with a hug, her back toward me, as Jose’s eyes light up. He’s gloating, the mother fucking prick.
“Nice to meet you, Jose. And I agree with you about our boss’s disposition.” She raises an eyebrow and whispers conspiratorially. “He can be such a grouchy-grouch.”
Jose wiggles his bushy dark eyebrows. “Si, si, si. Now come, come. Tell me all about yourself.”
They walk off down the corridor as I stare after them, left to carry all my equipment and bags by myself. So much for so-called assistants. Jesus, are these two in cahoots already?
