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“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
She huffed, silently gesturing to my computer, telling me to get back to work. In order to do that, I had to shift her closer to me to see around her shoulder. With my chest right up against her back and my hands on either side of her, I had her caged in while I typed on the keyboard.
But not even a minute later, her ass was wiggling in my lap.
“Novak,” I warned.
“Hargrove,” she grumbled. “I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“Yeah? Maybe you should find a seat somewhere else. Or better yet, get out of my office. I’m almost done.”
She wiggled again.
“Taylor. I need to concentrate.”
With her bottom lip tucked innocently under her top teeth, she smiled. “Am I making it hard for you?”
I gave her a bland look. Because it was so very obvious she was making ithard.
I squeezed her thigh in warning and went back to concentrating on my screen.
“You used the wrong their.” She pointed to my mistake. “T-h-e-i-r, not t-h-e-r-e.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?”
She took a deep breath, the slight movement brushing her rib cage against my arms, lifting her breasts. I closed my eyes and tilted my neck to the side, cracking it.
“Are you going to get anyone to read this over before you submit it?”
I dropped my forehead to her shoulder and growled. “If you think you’re going to steal that promotion out from under me by distracting me from work, you’re sorely mistaken.”
She hummed, turning so her lips brushed my temple when she said, “Are you sure about that?”
No. I absolutely was not fucking sure.
But I lifted my head and continued typing anyway. I didn’t even know what I was writing.
The alphabet, I think. Maybe the words to Alanis Morissette’s “Head Over Feet.” Who the fuck knew. I didn’t.
Because Taylor shifted, moving her legs on either side of my left thigh, arching her back slightly, so that hot center of hers ground down on me.
I banded my arm around her waist, keeping her from teasing me anymore. She exhaled audibly and sank back against me, practically begging for me to touch her. I could so easily slip my hand between her legs or up my sweatshirt.
I didn’t. Instead, I wrote up a paragraph on going to mediation.
I think.
Taylor twisted in my lap, pressing her mouth to my neck, rasping out, “Are you done yet?”
And I lost it.
Absolutely lost it.
“Nowhere near done,” I snapped, plowing my hand into her hair, gripping it hard to kiss her. She tasted like coffee, so it was no wonder she was wide awake at almost ten o’clock at night. And with how she clawed at me, wringing her arm around my neck and pushing at my sweats, I felt her frantic energy.
I scooted her back so that I could wrestle my pants down far enough to take out my cock and roll on the condom she produced. Wily minx, this was her plan all along. Her lips parted, her breath fanning over me, and I smiled at the hungry look in her eyes. Holding on to the base, I told her, “You want it so bad, you come and get it.”
She placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, and both of us groaned as she sank onto me. I’d had her every which way, except like this, so close together with her in my lap. The leather of my chair creaked as I leaned back, and I dug my fingers into her ass, helping to take her weight as she struggled fitting all of me inside her.
