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Breathing steady, I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, my eyes moving from the peek of my lacy bra to Julian’s wolfish gaze as he took me in from behind his desk. I kept my pace unhurried for him, despite the fact that it tormented me. It forced me to feel every ripple of sensation in slow motion, from the throbbing between my own legs to the shiver that crawled over the tops of my breasts as the ice-cold air hit my skin.
Leaning back, Julian simply watched me as I untucked my fully unbuttoned top from my skirt.
“Slow,” he reminded me as I let the shirt fall off my shoulders and down my arms. I shot hi
m a look as if to say, don’t push it. He smirked. “Am I exhausting your patience right now, Ms. Hanna?”
“You’ve been.” Arching my back, I folded my hands in my lap, sitting perfectly straight before him in just my black bra and tan pencil skirt. “You’re torturing me, actually, but I realize that’s the point.”
“You do pick things up quickly,” he murmured, eyes still on me as he undid his belt. “You know what I want to see next.”
He laughed as I rolled my eyes away from him, looking decidedly out the window at the view of the Empire State as I reached behind myself and unclasped my bra. My breasts felt swollen, painfully heavy as the lace cups fell out from underneath them. I heard the sharp breath Julian drew in, and when I returned my eyes to him, I bit down hard on my lip. He looked every bit the practiced and polished authority he always did in that chair.
The only difference now was that he had his hard cock out, his hand wrapped around it, stroking languidly from root to tip.
My sex clenched from the sight alone. My hands instinctively moved toward the zipper behind my skirt, but Julian stopped me.
“Keep it on,” he said. “Stand up for me.”
I smirked.
“Let me guess,” I said, inching my fingers down my sides and curling them to gather up my skirt. I felt the rush of wetness in my pussy as I stood there pulling my skirt up for Julian, his gaze pinned so tight on me I felt magnetic. He didn’t so much as blink let alone look away as I sat back down in my panties, my skirt hiked up and my hand idling between my thighs.
“Do it,” he said. “Touch yourself.”
I did, closing my eyes as I pushed the lace aside to circle my fingers over my clit. That first wave of heat surged up my body and settled in my cheeks. My pulse was in my ears, but I could still hear when Julian’s chair creaked forward and his footsteps neared.
Writhing under my own fingers, I kept my eyes shut. I wasn’t ready for the sight of him yet. I wanted to process this first – the fact that I was sitting topless and touching myself in Julian Hoult’s shiny office at the top of the tower.
But I had little time before I felt him reach down from above me, his fingertips on the underside of my breast. I shivered when his hand fully cupped me and slowly squeezed.
With a gasp, I opened my eyes.
Holy shit.
Julian stood at my side. Without peering to my right, all I could see was his forearm, his expensive watch and his hand playing with my breast as I stared out the windows at Midtown Manhattan.
It was surreal.
Everything was still in place. His desk was neat, a gleaming surface that held only his laptop, his planner, one folder and one pen. His shelf was a towering display of books, awards and baseballs enshrined in glass cases.
Everything was as it was supposed to be.
Except for us.
“Julian.” I clasped my hand over his, holding it still over my breast as I turned to look up at him.
His every muscle was tight as he watched my other hand tease my clit. His eyes were hooded, and he was still stroking himself. My view combined with his touch was unbelievable. It had to be the definition of erotic: my boss looking sharp in his brilliant white shirt and expensive tie, jerking himself off as he massaged my naked breasts in his office.
“Stand for me,” he rasped.
I was on my feet barely a second before he was kissing me, both hands cupped around my face as I took over pumping his cock. I moaned against his mouth as he claimed mine, each wet stroke of his tongue reminding me that he was in control. I was frenzied, desperate to feel more and to feel it faster, but he kept me in check with just the deliberate movements of his tongue – sharp one second, leisurely the next.
Like he said, he was going to take his time with me.
“Three days.” Julian muttered as he brought me to the end of the leather couch. “You got me to break in three days.”
He pinched my nipple between his fingers and pulled away from my lips, prompting my mouth to fall desperately open in his absence. I moaned as he tugged on me lightly. Then harder.
