jeans, she’d be wearing that little black strapless number she’d worn to dinner that night. Even better. He’d push the skirt up as he slid his hands up her thighs. Then he’d remove her thong and go down on her. Hell, he wanted to stretch her petite body over the firing counter right now and pound into her from behind.
He nearly groaned when her breasts brushed the side of his forearm. The heat of her body snugged up against his blasted a shot of pure lust to his groin. Dayam! If she turns around right now and sees the hard-on you’ve got for her, you’re gonna get yourself sued, boy! Or your dick shot off. If not both.
Going against the natural instinct to grind against her, he eased his hips away from hers and resettled her earmuffs back in place.
Muttering something about needing to get back to work, he whirled back through the soundproof door and tossed his earplugs into his locker. D.C. didn’t need him here-he could work out of the Atlanta office, no problem.
Atlanta. Where there were no spitfires with bitable asses to tempt him. Maybe then he could avoid future cases of blue balls he’d constantly been dealing with lately.
Sam checked the water temperature before stepping into the private shower he’d had specially built to accommodate his height. He palmed his cock as the warm water sluiced over it, wondering what he should do about his little problem. He’d not been so drawn to a woman in a long time. Oh, sure, he had a ton of phone numbers in his PDA, women all willing to jump into the sack with him. Not to mention he could always find relief at the Rouge. But no one in a long time had made him as hard as the one woman he couldn’t have.
Was that what made her more of a challenge? That, as his employee, he couldn’t have her? Was that why his cock was turning into a compass needle with Rosie his magnetic north?
His workout had gone to shit earlier when he’d spied her doing her standard two hundred pushups, her firm breasts reminding him of ripe peaches gently swaying in a summer breeze. He’d been hard pressed to find an activity that wouldn’t draw attention to the return of his hard-on. It hadn’t helped his control when she lay down on the stability ball and did crunches.
There’d been two other women operatives in the gym at the same time but neither of them attracted him like Rosie. No one else smelled of apricot shampoo and Ivory soap when they jogged on the treadmill. Well, okay, Vince smelled like Ivory too, but he was a guy, and the clean scent wore off within five minutes on the treadmill. Plus Vince sure as hell couldn’t put his leg over his head like Rosie could. Thank the good Lord for that.
So here he was, fleeing to the privacy of his shower for the second time that morning, jerking off in order to stop a potential lawsuit. Could be worse things he’d have to do. But damn, he wished he’d dragged her out of the gym for a little personal exercise session.
He’d start by stripping her of the T-shirt that hid those ample curves. Then he’d peel off her bra and expose her completely. Nothing manufactured about those lovely breasts. They’d be firm but not fake. Cuppable. Squeezable. Fuckable. Her nipples would probably be dark brown but would they be large or small? It didn’t matter. He’d lick them and blow on them until they hardened. Then he’d capture them between his thumb and fingers and play with them, squeezing gently at first, then harder.
His fingers squeezed his dick, mimicking what he would do to her nipples.
After a while, he’d exchange his fingers for his mouth, tasting them, catching them between his teeth, suckling while his hands explored every part of her. Those big brown eyes of hers would close as he discovered what made her hot. She’d start panting, making tiny mewling sounds with each touch, each lick, each taste.
He tightened his grip, flicking his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading a drop of leaking come over the sensitive foreskin.
Then he’d pull off her shorts, let them pool around her feet. Ever since he’d seen the thin straps of her thong, he’d wondered if she shaved, leaving what would be a beautiful pussy completely bare? Or did she leave a thin triangle of dark curls? He hoped she left a triangle. He’d love playing with her crisp mat of hair before he went down on her.
He’d kneel between her thighs. Would her clit be hard yet? It didn’t matter. Her lower lips would be creamy, and he’d thoroughly kiss them. A soft kiss at first, then he’d trail his tongue between them. Down and then up.
What would she taste like? Sweet? Or musky? Either way, he’d gather her essence on his tongue, lapping until she squirmed beneath him, her hands clutching his shoulders or perhaps his head, her hips thrusting in time to his licks. When she started moaning louder, he’d thrust a finger into her pussy, curl it slightly and slowly drag it along that sensitive spot at the front. Then a second. All the while his tongue would be paying particular attention to her now pulsing clit.
His balls aching, he rested his head against the cool tile and closed his eyes as he continued to palm his throbbing cock.
He’d cup her firm ass in his palms and lift her until she wrapped her legs around his hips, then nudge the head of his cock against her warm moist entrance. Obeying his murmured instruction, she’d open her eyes and watch as he slowly pressed into her. Together they’d watch her labia surround his shaft, kissing him as he slid home.
His hand slowed, letting the heated water from the shower gather in his palm warming his cock until he could believe he was buried in deep within her. Then it sped up again, mirroring the thrusts of his imagination.
Would she be a moaner or a screamer? A moaner, he hoped. Soft sounds would spill from her lips as she arched her back, her heels digging into his butt, pulling him deeper. He’d touch her sweet little clit and watch her eyes glaze. He’d flick the sensitive bud once more. Twice. Then her body would tighten around him. She’d be unable to draw a breath as she orgasmed, her muscles clenching his cock and milking him.
He barked his own release, his come jettisoning against the shower wall in a pulsing stream.
One hour later, his cock finally wrestled into submission, the door to the outer office opened and his assistant walked into the inner sanctum.
The poster girl for the stereotypical girl next door, Sandy was one of those people who matched their name, sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, even a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He could picture her growing up with the proverbial white picket fence and tire swing. But behind that faзade was an iron-hard backbone. Which was one reason he’d hired her as his assistant. He needed someone who wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone. Including himself.
Sandy placed the mail she’d brought from reception on her desk, then took off her jacket and hung it beside his in the closet. “Morning, Sam. Good to have you back. How was Miami?”
“Mornin’, Sandy. Miami’s hot as usual.”
As Sandy set to work booting up her system, Sam scrolled through the weekly reports the other offices had emailed him. The solution to the problem in Miami he’d proposed seemed to be working, his station head there reported. The New York office had three new clients requiring ’round the clock coverage. They needed him to sign off on their request to hire more manpower. He copied the HR department and gave his approval. The manager in Nashville had a potential problem that may head to court-he’d be receiving a letter by courier soon. Chicago and Atlanta reported no problems. And as expected, the Dallas and Houston offices were running just fine-though Mark had made a note that he had something he wanted to discuss in private. Hmm, wonder what that was about.
He’d made it halfway through his inbox when his nose broadcast his taste buds a caffeine alert. “Hey, Sandy? That coffee ready?”
“Sure is, you want one?”
He answered her question by stalking past her desk to the coffeemaker and filling a mug. Damn it, he needed a big slug of java injected straight into his veins. His concentration was shot. All thanks to not being able to finish his workout that morning.
He chugged down half of the black coffee, ignoring the pain as it scalded his esophagus. No other woman had his balls drawing up and his dick getting hard, preparing to send his little soldiers out on field patrol. What exactly was it about Rosie that had him so horny?
He downed the rest of his coffee. Goddamn it, he was going to have to move back to Atlanta if his dick didn’t start behaving itself.
Realizing Sandy was watching him as she handled the letter opener like a surgical instrument, Sam gestured toward the coffeemaker. “You want a coffee? I was just fixin’ to pour myself another.”
Sandy nodded at her own Hauberk mug. “No, thanks, I’ve barely touched mine. Do you want to go over
