I lay one hand on her thigh and the other cups her ass. And we sit, staring into each other’s eyes.
I read once that eye contact becomes awkward after ten seconds for most people because it implies a level of intimacy they’re unaccustomed to.
But our gazes never waver. Her blue eyes are shot through with flecks of gold and full of mischief and pure, unadulterated happiness. I wonder if she sees as much in my eyes as I do hers.
Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. Forty-five seconds. Sixty seconds. And still she sits, and still I don’t want her to move.
There’s a noise outside the door, and Elle jumps up, but when the door doesn’t open, she stills and calms. Her bright eyes pin me in place too.
“I dare you . . . to not touch me or yourself for the next twenty-four hours.”
“What? That’s not . . .” I pause, realizing what that smirk means. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
The innocent angel act reappears. “Why, nothing, sir. Just what I said, hands to yourself but not yourself.”
I’m intrigued by what she might be up to, so I agree, all the while imagining my hands behind my head as Elle sucks me, rides me, doing all the work, so to speak.
She claps and scampers off toward her desk. She grabs a pen and then meets my eye boldly . . . and drops it to the floor. “Oops, how clumsy of me. I’ll get it.”
She bends at the waist, putting her curvy ass on display as she picks the pen up. Still upside down, she looks back at me, and I tilt my head to force my eyes to hers. It’s agonizingly difficult to break my enjoyment of her assets.
It hits me just how difficult of a dare she’s presented because I think she’s going to taunt me at every turn.
I can’t wait.
She sashays back to her desk and sits down, the swish of her stockings as she crosses her legs driving me mad. And then she sighs lightly and uncrosses them before crossing them with the other leg on top.
I am so fucked. I look at my watch, setting a mental timer for twenty-four hours even though I have zero expectations of making it the full time.
Elle’s a godsend again . . . or maybe sent by the devil because she takes advantage of her dare to tease me mercilessly for the rest of the day as we work.
I click away at my computer, comparing strategies and locations by dollar sign, by potential, and by tax benefits and making some decent headway on my goals for the day. Surprisingly, though we do goof off, I get quite a bit done. It seems I can have fun and be productive. Who knew?
Elle did.
“Oh, my,” Elle says, drawing my attention. She deliberately swirls a finger through the whipped cream of the Frappuccino she grabbed on a mid-afternoon break. She meets my eyes before sucking it clean, moaning lewdly the whole time. “Mmm.”
“You’re a naughty fucking lass, you know that?” I finally complain, trying to stop myself from just flogging the bishop under my desk. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Of course . . . but that’s what makes dares so much fun,” Elle says. “The challenge and the conquest.”
“We’ll see who gets conquered,” I mutter, forcing myself to look down at the spreadsheets on my desk. Elle’s throaty chuckle sends another tingle down my spine, and by the end of the day, I’m hanging onto the dare by a whisker.
My poor dangly bits are aching, and I need to wank so badly to the point I’m worried I’m going to need an ice pack just to be able to eat dinner.
“Mr. Wolfe?” Elle says, catching my attention.
“Yes, Miss Stryker?”
Elle gets up, giving me another show of legs and hips and swaying breasts before laying a final file folder in front of me, bending down and showing me the deep, cream-colored valley between her breasts.
“I finished my work for the day. I hope you’re . . . satisfied?”
I growl, unable to look away as she gives her shoulders a little shimmy and my balls start aching again. “You know damn well that I’m not satisfied.”
“Well, sir, I’m sorry about that,” she purrs, sounding not the least bit sorry at all. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She’d told me throughout the day that she had plans with Tiffany tonight. I’d asked her to skip and come to my place again, even dared her to do so, but she’d refused, saying she wouldn’t break the date with her friend because Tiffany ‘needs’ her. I can respect that, even if I am disappointed at not seeing her tonight.
“If you need help, call me,” I order, glancing at the clock on my computer. Six oh five . . . nineteen hours and fifty-five minutes until I can let off this pressure inside me.
If I can make it that long without busting a penis artery.
Elle leaves, giving me a satisfied smile at the door before opening it up. A minute later, my mobile dings, and I look to see it’s a message from her.
Thank you. For . . . a lot.
There’s so much in her five words that I’m not sure how to reply. I know she enjoyed teasing me, and even more the fact that while I am her ‘boss’, she had so much power in the office today.
At the same time, she wants freedom and support on her quest to prove herself. That’s something I can understand firsthand. Though she hasn’t had to run halfway across the globe to have a shot at her freedom the way I have.
Chapter 13
Elle
I know I can’t see it. I mean, his office is on the other side of the building from the parking lot. Still, I can almost feel Colton’s eyes on me as I climb into my car, and it makes me grin.
“Come on!” Tiffany calls from the passenger seat. “I need some retail therapy and a full disclosure on all things Colton Wolfe. Like does he really eat you all up like the big, bad wolf? And does he say, ‘I’m arriving!’ when he comes? I need to know these things.”
I cut my eyes to her sharply. “What makes you think I have any idea? I’ve only worked for the man for two days, Tiffany.”
Her grin is knowing. “Me thinketh the lady doth protest-eth too much-eth.” Her butchering of Shakespeare makes her sound like she has a lisp, but I get her point.
“I’m not protesting,” I argue uselessly. Tiffany can read me like a book. She’s always been able to, and right now, she’s got those eagle eyes locked on me, scanning for any small tell. I’m not good enough at bluffing, not with her, at least, so I might as well get this over with.
“Fine . . . yes and no.”
It takes her a solid three seconds of blank-faced blinks to replay her questions and then my answers, but once it hits her, she starts shimmy dancing in her seat. Her arms flail around, and she’s kicking my floorboards like they’ve done her wrong.
“Ohmygod! Elle! Yes! Ahh!”
I laugh but can’t help sniping, “Hey, watch the car! Be nice to Cammie.”
Tiffany rubs the dashboard. “So sorry, Cammie girl, but did you hear? Your momma got laid.” Her whisper is to my car, but her eyes and grin are all for me.
I shake my head at her craziness, trying to decide just how much I want to tell her, but ultimately, I know she’ll get everything out of me.
I can at least make her wait, I think evilly.
“Whatever,” I answer, dropping my baby into first and pulling out. I carefully avoid really opening her up until we’re out of the parking lot and onto the private street that wraps around the hill the Fox headquarters is built on, but thankfully, Tiffany stays silent for a bit. She knows that these thirty seconds are mine.