Undoing the clip holding my hair up, I run my fingers through the tresses and revel in the feeling of giving my scalp a break. Whether it’s considered weird or not, I put the mug to my cheek. The warmth is soothing against my skin, and I enjoy the sensation on my face versus warming my hands. No one gets to see my quirky side. It’s doubtful anyone would embrace my idiosyncrasies.
Hearing the chime from my purse indicating I have an incoming text, I reluctantly set my mug down to retrieve the device. I roll my eyes when I see who the text is from.
James: Tell your fangs and claws to stand down. I’ve been reading and rereading the contract cover to cover.
Me: Tell your tongue to go bite itself! Had you done this days ago, you wouldn’t be scrambling like this to retain the information at the last minute. And Rebecca distracting you today wasn’t a smart move.
Manwhore! I say to myself.
James: El, let’s get something straight. With the revisions you so graciously delivered today, it turns out it was beneficial not to study the other copies in the first place. As for Rebecca, I immediately sent her down to encryption. So I don’t know what you’re getting at. Truth be told, not everyone can be as perfect as Your Highness. It must be exhausting being you.
My nostrils flare at the implication, and it’s a direct hit—he found his target, and it detonates right in my chest as I’m completely unnerved. I clench a fist at my side, frustrated by his constant ribs, but also determined more than ever to one-up him.
Me: Just do your damn job. You don’t get brownie points for doing what you’re supposed to. Now get back to work and quit procrastinating, rookie!
He doesn’t reply, and I knew he wouldn’t when I hit “send.” Growling as I set down my phone next to my nerdy mug, I run my hands through my hair again out of anxiousness.
“God, he’s so annoying and aggravating,” I huff. Then, I even surprise myself by announcing this to my empty house, “He’s so foxy, though. Jamison Fox…is a fox!”
And just like that, as if I snapped my fingers and was transported to an alternate realm of consciousness, visions of Jamison slither into my psyche. I can’t stand him, but he’s getting me hot and bothered—I cringe at the notion, and at the same time I’m intrigued by this foreign line of thinking.
Today of all days, I don’t know why he’s on my mind so much. The last thing I want to do is to fantasize about him, given the nature of our difficult working relationship, yet I can’t help myself.
When he walked down the hall at one point this afternoon, I noticed the way his pants hugged his ass—at the time I brushed the thought to the side. Now the thought is overtaking my brain. Never have I found a man’s ass so attractive, but somehow, the right fit and snugness of the slacks that ran along the curve of his outlined cheeks has me biting my lip in appreciation. I had dismissed the feelings he evoked, but I don’t know if I can keep discounting them.
Fidgeting where I stand to alleviate the building pressure in my core, I set my drink down again so I don’t spill my beloved coffee. My skin is lit like a flame. I’m flushed. I’m about to do something I haven’t done in forever. Masturbating is not my thing. James is not my thing. But it’s hard to convince my body in this moment—tonight, they’re both going to be my thing.
My carefully controlled scheduling is about to take a dive off the page since I didn’t plan this extracurricular activity. This will set me back with studying.
I pad down my hallway to my bedroom, divesting myself of my crisp white shirt as I go. My skirt is deftly unzipped and pools at my feet once it skates down my legs, and I’m left in my nude-colored thigh-high stockings and pink bra and panty set. The lingerie is lacy and feminine with the most delicate cutouts. I have no one to impress. However, I like dressing for myself. Nothing makes me feel more kickass in the office than when I’m sporting beautiful undergarments.
Wouldn’t Mister Panty Twister like to see me now?
Running my hands along the cups, my nipples harden, becoming visible points through the fabric. My skin sings with a buzz running through it like electricity through wires. I unhook my bra and pull it off, then shimmy out of my panties. They meet the floor too, and lastly the thigh highs come off. Once I’m naked, I lie down on my bed. The softness of my down comforter makes goose pimples crop up on my bare flesh, and I push the covers toward the bottom with my feet.
My core is clenching with anticipation. There’s no need to use my vibrator tonight—poor thing hasn’t been used in forever anyway—because I’m already tingly, which means it should be quick work. I move my hand slowly down my flat tummy until I reach the slick folds of my slit. Swirling my finger around my opening, my liquid heat coats my feminine tissues.
My other hand finds its way to my throat, and I caress the soft skin while exerting a little pressure, causing my breath to hitch—it’s naughty and thrilling, an action I’ve never let a man perform on me. I run that same hand down the curves of my body, which elicits a shiver as I go.
Picturing James’s hand running up and down the front of me is a surprise, but a welcome one. As much as I want to fight the image in my head, I also want to embrace it for what it is. There’s no doubt he’s an animal in bed. There’s no doubt he takes charge and would have me do his bidding.
A fine line exists between submission and defiance for pleasure. I’m not into the BDSM scene, but for James I could see myself letting go and being his for the taking. He strikes me as the quintessential alpha male who covets and claims. And for this very reason, it’s why he’s also dangerous for me—because I don’t want to let him have anything over me.
James knows his way around a woman’s body; there’s no doubt in my mind. After all, I’ve seen him with women, many women—I can only imagine his exploits outside of work. His familiarity with the opposite sex is much like me knowing the ins and outs of contracts. A part of me doesn’t want to be his enemy, but another part of me—the very headstrong part that drives everyone crazy—needs him to be my enemy.
I’m starting to realize I haven’t wanted to be attracted to him for fear of getting attached—getting too close and losing myself to someone…to him. The more I push him away, the easier it will be to widen that gap between us and keep it widened. And if I view him as competition or someone inferior, it’s easy for me to remain on top and in control.
But I can’t help the flow of attraction coursing through me and how my body is reacting at this very moment. Reminiscing about those arresting brown eyes of his with flecks of honey that always bore into me whenever his predatory gaze catches my stare has me squirming on the bed. He’s always trying to figure me out, and I don’t like it. Although, I’m equally excited by the intensity, duel for power, and need to conquer.
My hand is rubbing furiously at my clit now. My back arches as I come closer and closer to climaxing. It’s so good—too good—and it’s been too long since I let myself have this pleasure. Imagining riding James’s huge cock—surely it’s huge, sometimes you can’t miss the outline in his slacks—has me panting and moaning as I plunge two greedy fingers into my slick channel.
Faster, harder, faster, harder. The pressure builds and builds.