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The man has the smirk that’s driving me insane.
I just had sex this morning. But then, why am I salivating over his Greek god body, that fills out his Armani tailored suit?
I take a moment to look him up and down. He's got a handsome, to die for face. Blonde hair that’s perfectly coiffed. His jaw is chiseled and his face is lean. Hungry. His eyes are icy blue and deep. They hold something dark. That face sits on top of an elegant neck and one of the most fantastic specimens of human male I have ever seen. Shoulders so broad that they could stop a truck. A chest that you can tell has pecs the size of wooden boards. Washboard abs. A tall, 6 foot 4-inch sculpture of perfection. With a bulge in his trousers that hints at a package sends tingles to my pussy
That’s right. I may want to fuck him. Or not. But it’s my decision. And right now, I am definitely leaning for fucking his brains out.
Control yourself, Julianna! I tell myself as I get up and walk around my desk.
“We both know that I’m going to be the most valuable asset this team has, Ms. Heaton,” he says to me, smirking again.
So fucking full of himself. So cocky.
“I don’t fucking care, Colt,” I say sternly. All of a sudden, it’s like I poured ice water down his shirt. He starts and looks up at me.
“The New York Nailers only have a salary cap for one of you fuck-ups,” I say swe
etly. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to choose between you and Ethan Blake.”
Colt’s silent. I doubt he’s ever been this quiet for this long in his life.
“Now tell me, if I only have $30 million dollars in my salary cap and you and Ethan both cost me $40 million together, I’m in a bit of trouble, aren’t I?” I ask, sitting against my desk, just six inches from his marvelous body.
I’m wearing a black pencil skirt and a purple silk blouse. I have on my pearls and my gold hoop earrings. And my heels. My six-inch black heels.
I like to dress sexy for work. From my thong to my blouse - everything is there to accentuate my curves. My tits. My ass. My legs. My entire body.
And it works now on Colt, as he stands up and walks to me.
“You’ll pick me,” he says softly, taking two steps closer.
My heart rate starts to increase with each step he takes closer to me. I can smell him. His musk. It’s cologne. And sweat. And man.
My brain starts to feel intoxicated as I stand up to meet him.
“You think you can tell me what to do?” I ask, my eyes flashing at him. I wonder if he truly can.
“I can tell anyone what to do,” he says. Innuendo is running wild between us. “I’m Colt fucking Stackford. QB1 for the NFL.”
“That doesn’t mean shit to me, hon,” I say with a smile. If that’s the most he’s got, then he’s got another thing coming.
And that’s when he surprises me.
“It’s Colt,” he says. “Not ‘hon’”.
He’s an inch away from me. “And it doesn't mean anything to you because you’ve never been to a rodeo like this, babe.”
My nostrils flare. It’s not even lunch time and my panties are fucking wet. But I like the dance.
“It’s Julianna,” I say. “Not ‘babe’”.
He smiles at me. His perfect teeth flash as he lowers his head. I want him to kiss me. Fuck, I could take him on this desk right now.
His face is centimeters from mine. My eyelids start to droop.
And that’s when the buzzer to my phone rings and Trudy’s voice comes on.
“Ms. Heaton, Ethan Blake is here for your 11:45 meeting.”
