Don't Go Baking My Heart

“Hmm, you said. I would think you’d be eager to return my underwear, but if you wanted my panties as a keepsake, all you had to do was say so. I would’ve brought another one just for you. You can’t keep these.”

His jaw clenched. She’d suspected after he hadn’t given in to her obvious messages Sunday night that he would pull this, try to distance himself, which fine, she didn’t want to impose on him totally. He had work, she got that, but the panties really were her lucky underwear. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to have her swing by and collect them. She wouldn’t have even pulled any of this if he hadn’t done an about-turn and locked her off.

She executed a smooth jump up onto his desk, tugging her dress up so when she crossed her leg, he got an eyeful. Oh yeah, he’d received her message loud and clear.

His eyes went so round. “Shit, you’re not…”

She shrugged. “Well, if you’d kept your promise and given me what’s mine, we wouldn’t be here with me bare-assed on your work desk.”

She bounced her leg, her skirt settled high on her thighs. He didn’t have to wonder for one second whether she was wearing anything under her dress because she had shown him very clearly that she wasn’t.

“Okay, look, you can leave now. I’ll give you what’s yours.”

“Yes, you will, but however will you make this up to me?”

“Reba.” He stepped closer, clearly unsure of his next move. “You can’t expect me to just drop everything…” He sounded exasperated. Good.

She uncrossed one leg, pressing her shoe into his stomach, halting his movement. His hand reached down to grip her ankle like he couldn’t help himself.

She pushed the tip of her foot into his shirt, and his grip on her ankle tightened. She wasn’t wearing a bra with this dress either; her nipples were surely poking through the top. She didn’t look away from him to confirm. All she wondered was whether Devon wanted to undo the rest of her buttons and bare her breasts to his hungry gaze.

He probably wouldn’t do that here in his office, but she could fantasise about it.

“I can see you overthinking all the possible scenarios.” She slowly dragged her foot down to his crotch, rubbing gently. “Maybe this’ll help move those along. Just pick one. I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you choose.”

“Fucking kryptonite,” he swore. “Devil in the fucking flesh.”

“Yup. You might want to lock that door.”

He didn’t move. If he wanted to go bravely, it was fine by her; it heightened the excitement. He squeezed her ankle. “You can’t always get what you want. Demanding shit on your terms.”

“Who’s demanding? You have something that belongs to me. I don’t think it’s wrong to come collect.”

“You know damn well what you’re doing. This game of yours…it’s been a long fucking few workdays, okay?” He scrubbed his hand down his face.

He did look rumpled. His version of it, anyway. Still too put together in her mind. She could imagine he thought his facial hair was bordering on scruffy when it still looked perfectly coiffed to her. The right length to cause delicious friction along her skin.

“Sounds terrible. Truly. Wouldn’t some food and a little fucking help?”

“God, you are just so…”

“Amazing? Beautiful? Fabulous?”

His hand glided up her calf to her thigh. “All of the above. That doesn’t give you the right to just do whatever you want. Although, I appreciate the food. Haven’t eaten really since breakfast.”

She dropped her foot and spread her thighs. “You need to take better care of yourself, so eat.” She didn’t only mean the Chinese food. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

It felt great to her. Especially when his hand remained on her, squeezing her flesh, kneading at her skin.

She bit her lip as his hand pushed her skirt up. “Higher,” she instructed. He moved up to where the crease of her leg met her pelvis. Oh, he’d definitely gone too far up. “Lower.”

Lower would mean dipping into her wetness. She squirmed as his thumb brushed over her lips, her hips moving, begging for more. Deeper. He rubbed at her folds, not yet breaching her but close, so close.

Her back arched, and Reba was fully splayed on his desk. The picture they would make if someone walked in right now. Nothing they said could cover up what would be obvious, especially when he moved into the V of her legs, and she spread them wider. His erection was prominent, pushing against the material of his pants, and God, she was so wet. There was no doubt she’d leave behind a spot on the front of his pants if she just rubbed up against him. But fuck if she cared. He nudged at her bare flesh, and she pushed forward, tried to ride him through the fabric.

“Yes, like that,” she moaned out, not a care for decorum. Why should she give a damn? This wasn’t her office, and it wasn’t her co-workers who could catch them like this.

He leaned down, mouth to her ear. “Keep your voice down.”