I’m out of my seat and around her desk in two seconds flat. Yes, I’m crowding her. Yes, I have no intention of moving anywhere but closer.
“Space. Give me space.” She swats my thigh without looking up.
Nope. That sure as fuck doesn’t work for me.
I pull her up out of her seat, slide those glasses off her nose and kiss her. It’s a quick kiss because I don’t know how long my old man will be gone, but it definitely won’t be long enough for the kind of sexual marathon I want when I look at Harper. Christ, she’s gorgeous.
Since I have to work with the time I have, I swing her around, shove her folders to one side and plant her cute ass on the freshly cleared real estate. “Have you ever come on your desk?”
“What?” The look on her face is awesome—part cranky, part embarrassed...and part curious. Harper definitely has a dirty side.
“I’ll take that as a no. Up.” I tug on the hem of her skirt.
She lifts obediently before she thinks about it. “No, wait. What are you doing?”
“Showing you some friendly appreciation.” I fold her skirt up to her waist because Harper won’t be a fan of wrinkles. She likes her shit well-organized and pressed. She squirms, but I don’t think she’s trying to get away. More like I’ve got her off balance and she’s deciding if she likes it.
Her panties are a barely-there scrap of yellow, the kind of thong that yields zero panty line. It’s probably a purely practical decision on Harper’s part, but I can see the outline of her pussy peeking through the lacy front like it’s saying hello. Or touch me. I’m always happy to give a lady what she wants. I yank them off and shove her legs over my shoulder.
“You’re gonna have to be quiet, Harper. Can you do that for me?”
She glares at me, but she doesn’t close her legs. Of course, given the fact that my shoulders are now holding her thighs apart, shutting me out is gonna be difficult. But her face pinkens up and she’s not saying no. Since we both know I’m always gonna listen to her, that’s a big hell, yeah in my book. I get straight to work on making sure that Harper has a very, very good day at work.
She’s already wet and slick, so somebody’s been thinking naughty, work-inappropriate thoughts. I run my thumbs up her thighs and open her up wide. She squeak-moans, but she keeps the volume low enough that the rest of the office won’t come rushing in. Good girls deserve rewards, so I kiss her.
I cover her clit with my mouth, circling it with my tongue.
She moans a little louder and promptly slaps her hand over her mouth. I forgot to specify staying still, so she starts wiggling and bucking around her desk as I tongue her. She tastes even better than I remember. I lick and suck, shoving two fingers deep inside her as I look for and find her G-spot. She moans my name and tenses.
Harper’s not a screamer. We established that two weeks ago, when I fucked her senseless against the window in her hotel room. She just sort of melts, coming undone at the edges as she comes. She shudders and tenses and then makes all these cute whimpering noises as I kiss harder and deeper, making her ride my mouth until she’s done.
She flops back on her desk, panting. She’s all loose and relaxed, and she looks like she just had a midday orgasm. At work. When there are a million suit-wearing people walking past her closed door. She must remember that because about two seconds after I switch her brain off with the mother of all orgasms, she sits bolt upright. Guess the thinking part of her has come back online.
“Your father,” she whispers, her face flaming red. She practically throws herself at me, trying to scramble off the desk. Since she’s come and I’ve had my fun, I help her off if only because the way her legs wobble for a second makes me feel like a fucking king. “I’m at work.”
“Think of me as a fringe benefit.” I pull her skirt down and retie the bow at her throat. I always put away my toys when I’m done playing with them. Her panties, however, go in my pocket. Since I don’t get to come, I deserve a souvenir for later.
“He thinks we’re dating.”
“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my forehead. Harper’s scent is all over me and my dick’s imitating an iron bar. “Got to admit that’s a challenge, but here’s what I’m thinking. We’re friends, right?”
“Right.” She stares at me, suspicion written all over her gorgeous face.
“So that means I have your back,” I explain. “And you have mine. Right now, I need to keep my old man happy. What I really want is for him to get off my back about dating someone, so if he thinks we’re a couple, problem solved.”
“But we’re not dating,” she protests.
“No,” I agree. “I’m not a relationship guy. I don’t want to be your boyfriend—just your fuck buddy.”
“And friends,” she says.
“Friends who bang,” I agree. I can hear my old man coming down the hall. He’s loud, but he sounds happy and he’s taking his sweet time. I suspect this is intentional—after all, we’re family and he knows exactly what he’d be doing if the situation were reversed and he had a hot investment banker alone in an office.
“He’s an old man and he’s confused. He’ll likely forget the meeting ten minutes after he leaves, so no worries. All you have to do is pretend for now. You do that for me, and I’ll owe you one.”
From the way Harper’s eyes widen, she thinks owe you one is code for doing her right in the bedroom. She doesn’t say no, though. She stays silent until my dad wanders back in and we resume
