“You do so much more than that to me,” I say.
“Jesus,” he swears and turns his head away. “Julia. If you knew—if you only know what I think about.”
“I want to know. Please. If we can’t … not really … then I want to hear. I want to be able to think about it later.”
His gaze snaps back to me. “I want to kiss you so hard you gasp out my name. I want to suck on your tongue and lips until you can’t breathe. I want you to feel how hard you make me.”
I make a sound between a moan and a gasp. My thighs are squeezing and releasing. It’s impossible to sit still when he talks to me like this, when he makes love to me with his words.
He leans back and adjusts himself with a gruff groan. The action can no longer hide the truth of what he feels. When I look up again, he knows where I’ve been looking. His eyes burn as his hand lowers to stroke himself over his pants as I watch.
I’m in a heady bold haze as I take my hand and brush it against my chest. “I dream about you touching me, playing with me. Here.” I stop my hand to squeeze my nipple.
“Fuck,” he swears. His hand brushes himself again. “I want you so fucking bad, Julia. I want to see every inch of you. Touch every inch of your sexy body.”
I’m drowning in my desire now. My whole body feels heavy and outside of my control. I spread my legs wide. The knee-length skirt slides up my thighs and I pretend it’s his hands pushing it up. He watches the action under my desk. I run a hand from my knee to my thigh and back. He leans back and spreads his legs, biting his lip hard enough the area around his teeth is white. He flicks open the top button of his pants before slipping his hand in. A quiet gasp of relief escapes as he strokes himself fully.
I moan at the sight of this beautiful man sprawled in my office, touching himself. It’s the most erotic sight straight out of my dirtiest fantasies. My fingers stray to the elastic of my underwear. I graze over the wet patch and sparks shoot through me. My hand is glowing. I’m on fire. My vision goes white.
“Shit,” I say and pull my hand back. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m so on edge. I can’t control myself around him. This is too risky. My gaze shoots back to Nathaniel. “Are you okay?” I ask, panting.
His mouth is open, eyes wide. Unable to speak.
“Nathaniel?” Worry starts to chill the desire thrumming through me. “Are you okay?”
“You’re glowing,” he says, sitting up.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re beautiful.” His eyes are so wide, the white light emanating from me is reflected back in them. “You look like a goddess.”
Just like that, the worry dissolves back into lust. My insides clench as he looks at me like I’m actually beautiful.
“Have you ever made yourself come, Julia?” he asks.
I nod. My whole body is trembling.
“Let me see,” he demands. He shrugs out of his blazer; his crisp white button-up is sculpted to his tense, muscular body. Slowly, tortuously, he unsnaps his cuffs, rolling up one sleeve and then the other to reveal his masculine forearms. I swallow with effort at the mesmerizing action. His biceps flex as he clenches and releases his fists in eager anticipation. “I want to see you.”
I swallow and nod. I’ve gotten myself off before and it’s been fine. But I’ve never done it in front of somebody else. Never at work. It’s so dirty. I should feel wrong, but I don’t. I feel on fire.
“I need to see you come, Julia.”
He says it. Just like that. Like he’s asking for a metric report.
God, when he says my name like that … My hand slides back to where I’m soaking wet. I tease myself over the damp fabric and pretend it’s his hand.
“Yes,” he hisses.
I focus on him, where he strokes himself over his briefs. He’s straining hard to be free. That evidence of desire has me clenching. I slip a finger under the fabric of my panties.
“You’re so wet, aren’t you?”
I pull the fabric to the side to show how soaking and swollen I am for him. My other hand massages my breasts over my bra and shirt. It’s not enough, but it works for now. It’s his hand teasing and pulling. It’s his hands that drive me forward.
“Fuck. You’re so sexy.” Tendons in his neck strain as his hand moves faster. It’s not enough for him either. He pulls himself free with a sigh of relief. He’s rock hard, almost angrily so. His thumb smears a bead of moisture down the length of him.
I gasp out at the beautiful sight and dirty words.
