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I nodded slowly, worrying that I was somehow ruining everything with him. “I…I’m sorry.”
His fingers gripped my chin again, tilting it up towards him. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “The thought that I’m the only man to have ever touched you is…” he took a deep breath. “Maddening.”
“But in a good way?” I questioned nervously, my blood starting to pick up pace in my veins again as I recovered.
“In the best way.”
He pressed another kiss to my face, this one much more chaste than the others considering all that we had done, before he was finally pulling away.
“Straighten yourself up in the bathroom and then head home, like I told you to before we were… distracted. I’ll pick you up when I’m done with work.”
I nodded, sliding from his desk and heading to his bathroom. But as I went, I couldn’t help but shake with anticipation. It was like someone had opened a door to a world that I was previously forbidden from, and while it was certainly nerve-wracking, I really wanted to see what was on the other side of the door.
And I definitely wanted Mr. Fitzgerald to be the one to show me.
Fitz
I stared at my computer, but I definitely wasn’t seeing any of the words. I didn’t know why I had expected myself to be capable of being productive working at the same desk that I had just had Bev splayed out over, but I was forcing myself to at least go through the motions.
I felt like I could still smell her, wanton and warm and earthy. I was probably just still picking her up from my short beard, but it just made me want to bury my face in her all over again.
She had come undone so prettily, legs shaking on either side of my head and I could feel her reacting under my tongue. And then the thought that I had been the only one to ever touch her like that? It was enough to make me burn from the inside out, and I felt myself start to harden again.
I sat back, my eyes flicking to the clock to see how much longer I had. Just another twenty minutes. I could survive that. And while part of me just wanted to go straight to her house and whisk her away, part of me also felt like I needed time to digest everything that had happened.
She was a virgin, in every sense of the word. It made sense with how she had reacted to our first kiss, and the way she had fumbled with her words with our ensuing talk afterwards. I felt a bit guilty now, just claiming her lips like I had at the party, but I also was a bit punch-drunk on the idea.
For twenty-two years she hadn’t desired to even so much as touch another, but after only a month with me, she’d been whining and wet below me. How could that not do things to my ego? She was beautiful, alluring, intelligent, poised, basically everything you could ask in a woman, and she had decided that I was worthy of her.
What a thought.
I chuckled at myself, amused at how much the whole situation was affecting me. Knowing I wasn’t going to get any work done, not really, I headed to the closet just outside my bathroom and decided to get changed.
Unfortunately, getting changed definitely meant I needed to wash my face and brush my hair back in order. Bev had certainly done a number on the style I had on early, but I hadn’t minded at all. Her small fingers had tugged at me so sweetly, like she was somewhere between holding on for dear life and trying to push me farther into her.
My dick responded to the memory of how responsive she had been, how eager. Virgin though she may have been, she had no trouble communicating how much she wanted me, and that definitely made me harder than iron.
But I ignored myself as I went about getting ready and making myself presentable. If everything went right, I’d have plenty for my manhood to do later. And even if it didn’t, I could always jerk off after our date.
By the time I was dressed with my face washed and my hair looking far less sexed-up, it was just a bit past our normal quitting time. Perfect. I pressed the button on my intercom that would alert the valet that I was ready to go, knowing my car would be down at the front and waiting for me by the time I exited the building.
Sure enough, it was right where it was supposed to be, and the valet tossed me the keys. That part wasn’t necessarily protocol, but Izzy had been the valet at my work for seven years and we’d built up a sort of repertoire that was less formal. It helped that the man was in his seventies and had a sense of humor of a man who’d been in far too many wars. We’d tried to make him retire over a dozen times, but he insisted his life would be far too boring without the four hours he worked every evening.
