I stumbled slightly, catching myself as he slid right into my seat and pulled his fucking dick out.
“Marlon!” I whisper-yelled. “We gotta work!”
He leaned back in the chair, one hand reaching for his erection and started stroking it. “I’m about to work right now.”
I stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Have a seat, Bunny.” He patted his lap.
“Marlon…”
“I won’t ask again.”
That tone. Ever since we said I love you to each other, he’s been so… possessive. Even more than before. And the clinginess he used to find bothersome in me, was increased by ten in him.
Sometimes we couldn’t even get through the day without him slipping into my office between meetings.
The sneaking around was so hot to me though. I liked having a secret only we knew about. And that kinda summed up our entire relationship.
So, I hiked up my skirt and I sat. And the second I settled on his lap, I melted.
“Fuck,” I moaned as my nails dig into his thighs. My head went back into his chest and my eyes squeezed close.
His arm came around my waist automatically, pulling me in as if no space was allowed between us.
And as soon as his tip hit the spot I needed it to hit, all the tension I had been holding onto all day cracked.
“I…we…have..to…” I tried to finish the sentence, I really did. But my thoughts weren’t lining up the way they were five minutes ago.
“Work,” I managed after the first thrust. “We gotta work.”
“We’re working baby,” he thrusted again. “Read me the report.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“I can’t.”
Another thrust. “Yes, you can. Focus.”
Then his hand tightened slightly at my waist, pulling me further into him as his dick buried deeper.
I swallowed the moan crawling at my throat and fought like hell to force my eyes back to the screen.
Numbers. Columns. Data.
Fuck! Start somewhere!
“…okay,” I muttered, dragging the report back into view.
“Projected turnout is sitting at… mmm…eighty percent capacity based on confirmations,” I started, forcing the words out. “We should expect a…higher walk-in rate depending on how the early slots perform.”
He hit the spot again and whispered in my ear. “Mhm.”
“Inventory flow is balanced,” I continued. “We accounted for a… fifteen percent surplus in case of overconsumption.”
“Mm,” he hummed softly behind me.
That sound alone made it harder to concentrate. But I kept going.
