She moves to take a step back.What are you doing?I don’t overthink it. I step forward, then reach out and grip her hips gently. The second I feel her curvy perfection, my temperature rises. My length grows hard again, my precome-hot tip pulses against the inside of my pants.
“But,” I say. “It can get lonely. Sometimes, a man starts to wonder what it’s all for. Why am I working so hard?”
“To make the city a better place,” she whispers.
“Sure, but I’m rich too, Izzy. What’s it all for?”
“I don’t kn…”
She trails off when I lean down. Touching her hips was probably a mistake, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to stop. I pull her tightly against me, letting her feel the solid steel in my pants, then guide my lips to hers.
Her mouth is warm, nervous at first. For a moment, I think she might push me away. Have I made a mistake?
But then she moans and rubs her body against mine, her ample breasts pressing against me. She slides her arms around me and digs her fingernails into my back through my shirt.
I slip my greedy hands from her hips, around to her back, then smooth down to her ass.
“You’re so fucking curvy,” I groan between hungry kisses.
“You like that?” she moans.
“I fuckingloveit.”
I palm her ass, pressing against her roundness. An ocean of precome is burning at the tip of my cock, more than I’ve everexperienced, like all these bachelor years have been leading me to this exact moment. She claws onto the back of my neck with both of her hands as I massage her.
When I lift her up, her legs wrap around me instantly. I place her on the nearest desk and surge forward, pushing my dick between her legs. When her skirt gets in the way, she does the sexist thing…
Huffing, she grabs her skirt and wriggles it up, exposing her thick legs trapped in tights. I stare down at her flawless figure for a moment, mesmerized, breathing through tightly gritted teeth.
She raises her eyebrow at me, and the corner of her lip twitches into a half-smile. But her eyes shine with nerves, like she thinks she’s gone too far. I kill that notion by surging forward into another hungry kiss. My groin is flush against hers now, nothing between us but a scrap of fabric.
I’m sure I can feel the wet folds of her slick pussy as I grind up and down, letting her feel the passion.
“Don’t stop,” she pants in my ear, running her hands through my hair. “Oh my—Fuck, Dom.”
Her voice pitches high. It’s the first time in years I haven’t been distracted by the business. All I can think about is her.
I lean back slightly, creating just enough space between our bodies, and slide my hand up her thigh. She whimpers against me. The higher I get, the closer to her slick heat, the breathier her moans become. I’m almost at her sweet warmth, ready to push my hand firmly against her, when a door opens on the other side of the office.
I step away immediately, registering the hurt look on her face. Then she realizes why. She turns at the sound of footsteps.
Two cleaners wheel their mop buckets. When they see us and the flushed look on our faces, they quickly look away. They’ve probably walked in on worse scenes in more dysfunctional offices than this.
Izzy stands, adjusting her skirt. “I—uh—I have to go.”
I clear my throat, every inch of me still burning. “Yeah,” I murmur.
“I’ll, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Her face and neck are bright red. Her lips are still swollen and so damn kissable. But her inner conflict is painted on her face, like she thinksshe’sdone something wrong. But I’m the one kissing my employees.
“See you tomorrow, Izzy.”
She grabs her jacket from the back of her chair, picks up her bag, and swiftly leaves the office. The cleaners aren’t even in the room anymore. I watch Izzy go, urging myself to go to her, hug her, kiss her gently this time.
But then the moment passes. She’s gone.
And, as usual, I’m by myself again.
