Provoke

How was I supposed to respond to this? How was I supposed to focus on work with that image in my head? A message flashed up.

Are you sure there is no way I can convince you to cancel this dinner? I’d love your ‘hands-on’ opinion on something.

I laughed, flicking back to the picture again. Definitely impressive . . .

You’re meeting my parents. Case closed. Now back to this picture you sent me. Definitely holding my interest at the moment.

I giggled to myself while I waited for his reply.

There’s more where that came from, baby. But you don’t get without giving a little . . .

No way. He wasn’t suggesting I do that here—was he? I glanced at the picture again, running my finger along the screen. Quickly, I unbuttoned my shirt, untucking it from my skirt. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked my bra and pushed my breasts forward, my arm tucked below in a bid to enhance them.

I can’t believe I am doing this.

Click.

I checked the picture and pressed send before I could change my mind. Sexting? So not me, but it felt naughty, and I liked that feeling. The phone rang almost immediately.

“Wow.” His voice was low and husky. “I am honestly shocked you sent that. I must be a bad influence on you.” He chuckled. A shiver shot up my spine. I slipped my fingers over my nipple and closed my eyes, imagining his mouth on my body.

“I can be unpredictable.” A soft moan escaped me. I blushed, embarrassed. Please don’t have heard that.

“Leets, are you . . . you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he said. I could hear the shock in his voice.

“Well, you started it with that damn picture,” I said defensively, my face heating up.

He chuckled, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. “You liked that, did you? So…what are you wearing?”

“You know what I’m wearing,” I smirked. “You saw me a half hour ago.”

He chuckled again. “That’s true. Where are you, then?”

“In a room. Alone.”

“Is the door locked?”

“No.” I glanced up at the closed but unlocked door. “But it’s shut.”

“So anyone can walk in and catch you?”

“I guess.”

“Good.” A chill raced through me as I imagined someone catching me right then. “Are you wet for me, Leets? I want you to slip your fingers inside your panties and tell me how wet you are.” His voice was low and smooth. Was he touching himself too? Was he stroking his impressively hard cock while he was talking to me?

My heart raced as I lifted my skirt and slipped a finger inside my silk thong. I gasped. God, I’m so turned on right now.

“I’m wet . . . very wet,” I whispered. I repositioned my leg so my foot rested on the edge of the desk, allowing me to hitch my skirt up even further, the tops of my thigh-high stockings exposed.

I slipped a second finger inside my thong and began to massage, glancing toward the door every few seconds. If anyone walked in, they would cop an eyeful. This little show could potentially cost me my job, but right then, all I cared about was him, and my need for fulfilment.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Leets. Where is your finger? Is it inside of you?”

“Mmm,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “I have two fingers inside me. I’m imagining it’s your cock slowly thrusting in, then out . . .” I sighed, my rhythm speeding up. “God, I’m so wet, Mace.”

“Good, Leets. I like you nice and wet. Imagine I’m kneeling down in front of you, spreading your legs as wide apart as I can. I begin to kiss your thigh, slowly making my way up higher and higher, until my lips are kissing the edge of your pussy.”

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, panting softly. Holy shit, this is so fucking sexy. The combination of his voice, the feel of my fingers moving inside me, and the realization that I could be caught at any moment was insanely hot.