Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

They drifted back to work after half an hour or so of cake-eating and small talk. Josh had deliveries to make, and Linda had orders to fill and customers to deal with… Vicki disappeared into her office where Ty couldn’t see her.

It should have been a reprieve. But it felt like punishment. How could she just carry on as normal, while her panties burned a fucking hole in his pocket?

What was she doing back there? Was she on the phone, speaking with clients? Ordering stock? All while she sat there bare-assed, probably aroused, and waited for him to collect on this IOU.

By the time Linda left at the end of the day, Ty was in agony. His cock had been hard to the point of pain for most of the afternoon. All he wanted to do was pin Vicki to her desk and take what she owed him.

But he knew that was what she was expecting. Knew that she thought she had control over this situation right now. And that wouldn’t fucking do at all.

His terms. He had told her this was happening on his terms.

His hand crept into his pocket, and he lovingly traced the delicate lace edging on the skimpy pair of panties. He’d done it so many times already this afternoon, he was more than familiar with the scalloped pattern.

With Linda and Josh gone home and the shop closed, he could finally tug it from his pocket, and examine the scrap of fabric that had driven him to the edge of insanity all afternoon.

It was white, small, fragile…Christ, he desperately wanted to wrap it around his hard shaft and jerk himself off with it.

He groaned and scrunched it in his fist.

She was waiting for him. He knew she was.

Right there for the taking.

But he didn’t like being wrong-footed like this. It made him edgy. She needed to understand that this could never happen again.

He pocketed the panties and pushed to his feet. She didn’t know what the fuck she had unleashed today.

But she was about to find out.

Vicki couldn’t focus. The day had pretty much been a wash since she had impulsively removed her panties in the bathroom four hours ago and subsequently slipped them into Ty’s pocket.

She’d never before done anything so brazen and daring. It had felt wonderfully audacious at the time. But as the hours passed without any sign of interest or intent from Ty, doubts had started to creep in.

What had she been thinking? Seriously, who did that?

People in movies and books, that’s who. She wasn’t some Bond girl, or a bold, confident supermodel-type trying to seduce a billionaire.

She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

And to do it at the shop.

Vicki had left Linda and Josh’s company with almost indecent haste after the impromptu party. She had closeted herself away in her office, horribly and embarrassingly aware that she was naked underneath her dress. What she had thought would be a fun and titillating game between her and Ty had become an exercise in mortification.

She was deep in her humiliating wallow when the office door slammed open with enough force to send it rebounding off the wall.

Her head came up in shock and she gaped at Ty, who stood framed in the doorway, all bristling masculinity, jaw tight, mouth grim, and eyes hard with resolve.

Her hand fluttered to her chest when he stormed into the office and unclipped his expensive watch from his wrist. She always admired the fact that he wore an old-school, square-faced, black and silver watch, with all the bells and whistles that men seemed to enjoy. Nothing “smart” or high tech about it. Just a manly watch that looked at home on his strong wrist and even blended in with the bottom band of his tattoo.

He pressed a couple of buttons on the watch and placed it, face up, on the kitchen counter, before stabbing a finger in Vicki’s direction.

“Up!”

Oh, no…he did not!

“You can’t just come in here and —”

“Don’t make me say it again, honey,” he interrupted her outraged protest. His voice a silky smooth, lethally effective croon. He jabbed that irritatingly bossy finger at her desk. “Plant that pretty little bare ass right here.”

Oh, goodness, it looked like the man was finally claiming his IOU.

She muffled an excited squeal and jumped up with more eagerness than was decent. Obeying without further protest.

“I’m on a ten-minute break,” he growled, pointing at his watch. “When that alarm goes off…this ends.”

This? What was this?

Oh, God, a quickie on the desk sounded like heaven right now.

“Lift your skirt, honey,” he said, when she sat on the desk as he had commanded. “Show me that pretty naked pussy.”

Oh, oops! Amateur hour over here, he shouldn’t have to tell her to do that. She flushed, hiked her skirt up over her hips, and sat primly on the edge of the desk again. Legs together, ankles folded, nudity on display.