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He chortled, his cheeks tinged with a pink glow. “Oh. I see. Who are you doing this for, him or me?”
“Both, no doubt. I hope you’re enjoying the spectacle.” I leered and sat, crossing my arms and legs. I deduced that if Jason had been texting, he couldn’t be driving. I sent a text back:
: Done. Don’t you think this is somewhat infantile?
: Delightfully infantile. Show respect or else I will want your bra.
“He must be having a good day.” I tilted my head to the ceiling. I couldn’t believe he’d play with me if he was in a foul mood.
My mobile beeped again.
: You’d better be wet and about to come by the time I’m there. No hands allowed.
“Seriously, he has got to be kidding!” I blurted, my voice raising. How the fuck was he going to find out? I groaned. Surely not here, not in front of a subordinate?
“Does he do this with you often?” Mark’s lips remained fixed into an upward curl of amusement, his dark eyes glistening.
“No. However, he doesn’t usually have a willing audience. Downside of a very private life. He can’t do public humiliation. You’re the next best thing.”
“I’m flattered. But, I take it this doesn’t do it for you? My presence?” He pulled a mock pout.
“No. And he knows it, too, that this isn’t my kind of play.” I buried my face in my hands. “He wants me fired up. Two hours of figures and dry spreadsheets, I’m not…really there, am I? Shit, he’s going to be pissed off with me.”
“Surprise him then.” Mark pushed his chair away from the desk. “You might enjoy it. Chill out. I won’t distract you.” He swung his chair around and offered me his back, while he looked out the window.
How to make yourself lush and juicy in a few minutes without touching yourself? I let my imagination run wild. Perhaps Jason’s lunch-break trip would include a fuck somewhere. But where? The back of the car, I mused, liking the idea.
It happened spontaneously. I was such a licentious girl sometimes. Aided by my rampant imagination, I drifted off into a world of fantasies. Maybe, Jason would take me over Mark’s spartan desk and…what?
Oh, yes, it had started, the tingles, the electric pulse in my clenching pussy. I closed my eyes and pictured my erotic fantasy. Knickers already off, Jason shoves me over the table, yanks up my skirt, and orders Mark to grip my wrists, dragging me forward until my nose is pressing against Mark’s bulging pants. Jason grabs my ponytail, repeatedly smacks my bare bottom until my arse is bright red and throbbing and I’m all tears and snot then he spears me from behind. As I cry out, he smothers my mouth, stuffing his fingers down my throat. I implore him to let me come, begging him to fill my cunt. The desk rocks as he pounds my drenched pussy—
The door opened—Jason had arrived. He’d no difficulty in finding Mark’s office and at least arrived unescorted. The three of us made the room cramped. I shot to my feet as he shut the door behind him, leaning against it. As I rose, a trickle of juice oozed down my inner thigh, and I squished my knees together. I sensed the heat in my cheeks rise a level to burning.
“Mark.” Jason moved forward, ignored me, and offered his hand for a shake.
“Mr Lucas.” Mark nodded, and the two men briefly shook hands.
I stood, hot and flustered, in the middle of the room with my knickers screwed up in one hand.
“I’ll have those.” Jason snapped his fingers.
I handed over my underwear, and he slid them into his jacket pocket. Asking when I would get them back was a big no-no. I had learnt that from bitter experience.
“Had a useful chat?” He smiled and, about his cornflower-blue eyes, small wrinkles appeared.
Damn him, he’s in his element.
“Yes. Mark has been very helpful,” I acknowledged. I couldn’t fault his business acumen.
“Good. Mark doesn’t handle this sector, do you?”
“Not generally,” replied Mark. “I’m more than happy to help Mrs Lucas, especially if it involves a scene.”
What? The bastards!
How bloody foolish I’d been. Jason would never involve another in a scene without their consent. He’d warned Mark in advance. My explicit consent hadn’t been necessary, as every waking moment of my life was within the bounds of our agreement.
I scowled, a deep frown of mortification, but not anger. The contrary emotions of shame and arousal danced around my mind.
