She gaped at him as he spoke, entranced by the caramel flesh of his arms as he shrugged his shirt off.
“Do you like this game we’ve been playing?” His belt buckle clanked as he tore the leather strap through the loops. “Is it fun for you to pretend like we’re just colleagues?”
She swallowed hard, unable to move her gaze from the waistband of his briefs as he pushed his pants down. He was almost completely nude in front of her and she couldn’t even concentrate long enough to undress.
“I…I wouldn’t say it’s fun,” she started.
“No. It’s hell.” He tossed his clothes aside, his cock leaning hard against the fabric of his briefs, making an impressive tent. “Put me out of my misery, Layla. In the way only you can.”
His words shivered through her, reminding her to move. Yes, a gorgeous, sculpted god was in front of her, asking her to disrobe. She had to comply immediately. With shaky fingers, she unbuttoned her blouse, breath hitching as Zahir knelt in front of her on the couch, sliding it over her shoulders. She undid her pants and shimmied out of them, letting Zahir slide them down her thighs and over her ankles, slipping off her heels in the process.
When she was clad only in her bra and panties, Zahir hummed low, his long fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, lips grazing the tops of each breast. Her legs fell open, neck limp to the side.
“Me too,” she whispered, hardly able to find her voice. Waiting for it was an understatement. She’d been unable to function without it.
Zahir tugged down the cups of her bra, her breasts bouncing out. She sucked at her teeth as he took each nipple between his lips. His kisses moved downwards, over the curve of her low belly, leaving a moist trail. He nuzzled the damp crotch of her panties, his eyes glinting black as he peered up at her.
“I wish I could do this to you every day.” His gravelly voice made goosebumps flare all over her body.
“That doesn’t seem like such a bad idea,” she said, watching as his thick fingers slid beneath the fabric of her panties. He pushed it aside, his tongue dancing torturously over her swollen lips. She went rigid beneath him, breath caught in her throat.
“Mmm.” He flattened his tongue against her clit, sending a shock wave through her. Her hand wandered to his head, fingers tightening in the thick mess of hair she imagined touching every goddamn day at work. Why did he have to be perfect? As a coworker, he was impossible to ignore. As a man, he was everything she’d ever fantasized about.
He dragged a thumb over her dripping entrance, taking a bite of the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Zahir rubbed his jaw over the place he’d just bitten, his stubble scratching lightly. She inhaled sharply as he pressed a finger inside her. His eyes were intense on her as he pumped the finger in and out, the thumb of his other hand making slow, deliberate circles around—not across—her clit. He was teasing her. And too well.
“God, Zahir,” she groaned, tossing her head back. “Just make me come already.”
He shook his head, circling that needy nub like it was his prey. “Not yet.”
“I need it.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I know you do. And you’ll get it.”
She whimpered, arching toward him, desperate to feel any contact against her throbbing clit. His finger felt glorious inside her but it wasn’t enough, it provoked more than it sated. She tightened the fist in his hair, bucking against him.
Zahir brushed his lips ever-so-lightly over her clit, enough to make her groan. Fuck, he was good at pushing her buttons. Her legs splayed wider, the grin on his face growing more devilish.
“Come on,” she urged.
“In time,” he murmured, kissing the stubbly mound of her mons. He’d slipped a second finger inside her, almost without her realizing, the pumping becoming more forceful. One of his hands snaked up to her breast, tweaking a nipple. She gave a strangled cry.
And while her head was tossed back, Zahir dove in. He poked and prodded her clit with his tongue, lavishing upon it all the attention she’d craved. She went rigid, hesitant to move in fear that it might end. Zahir moaned as he slurped at her clit, his tongue dancing expertly over the tight nub. She clenched her thighs around his head as the tension inside her climbed.
He pulled back after a moment, his mouth shiny.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed at his shoulder, urging him between her legs.
He sent her a flat look, reaching for his pants. “I need to be inside you.” He rummaged through his pockets, and then produced his wallet. He fished out a condom, then pushed his briefs down. His chest heaved as he rolled the condom over his cock.
“Yes,” she whispered, unable to look away from the veiny, purplish head, his cock arching gently up into the air in front of him. Even his penis was perfect. Like it belonged in a magazine. Or at least as the textbook example of aroused genitalia.
He slipped his wide, warm hands beneath her ass cheeks, hoisting her into the air. His cockhead slipped back and forth across her entrance, and then with a measured thrust he sunk inside her, his gaze never wavering from hers. Her breath shriveled in her throat as he disappeared inside her, his heat reaching all the way to her core.
“Fuck,” she gasped, clinging to his forearms. He pulled back and then thrust inside her, steady and forceful, stretching her, sending electricity zipping through her limbs.
His jaw clenched as he pumped into her, gaze never wavering. The muscles of his belly flinched as he worked her, his fingers leaving indents in the sides of her hips.