“Zero,” I fired back, without thought.
“Come on,” she said. “You tore me away from my parents.”
“Are you going to guilt me into doing shit for you all the time? Because by now, you should know I don’t have a conscience.”
But that wasn’t necessarily true, and even I was beginning to admit it. The more time I spent with her—especially after the Met, where I admitted why I hated her so much—the more I realized I’d made a mistake forcing her to leave Todos Santos. A mistake I wouldn’t repeat if I could turn back time.
“I’d go there alone, but the lines are always so long, and I won’t be able to do that and pick up your lunch in time.”
I had the same sandwich every afternoon. She already knew my routine.
“Too bad,” was my response.
“Or…” her voice was hesitant. She was nibbling on her lips, I knew, and my cock swelled. “You could give me a two-hour break today. You know, because it’s practically Christmas Eve and all.”
“No,” I said, then realized I had the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. It was negotiation time. And I was really good at negotiations.
“Get in my office, Miss LeBlanc. Now.” I hung up.
When Emilia walked into my office, I stopped her before she reached my desk.
“Stay by the door.”
I wasn’t particularly against people seeing us fuck. I didn’t mind the crowd, but the lawyer in me knew it could result in a lot of paperwork. She stood by the door and watched me, a playful smile grazing her lips.
“You needed to see me?”
“No. I needed to taste you,” I corrected, closing the merger folder on my computer and getting up.
She stood still, pressing her back to the door, her face tight and wary. She hugged her arms to her chest and watched me. My predatory steps made her eyes narrow, and I loved how impatient she was, her foot tapping against the wood of my floor. When I reached her, her hand moved to my slacks and she cupped my balls.
I stopped her with a tsk-tsk and a shake of my head. “Fucking wet and ready for me, even from across the hallway.” I smirked. “Don’t you need a little foreplay?”
“I’ll have the non-smug, non-jerk version please. And objection.” She blushed. “Lack of foundation. You have no way of knowing that.”
She was lying. Again. My pretty little liar. I shoved my hand under her dress and nudged her boyfriend shorts, which I knew she wore because she gave zero fucks about whether I might favor lace to them—Emilia was a sensible 100% cotton girl—and thrust two fingers into her at once.
Soaked.
Dragging my fingers deliberately slowly from her tight sex, my eyes holding hers, I brought them to my mouth and sucked them clean, my lips quirking into a smile. “Fine, I’ll rephrase. Is it true that you’re always wet for me, Miss LeBlanc?”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been sleeping together for less than twenty-four hours. So at this point, yes, I guess I am.”
“And is it also true that because of that, you’ll do non-work-related tasks for me, even if you don’t want to?”
She halted. “That depends on what the tasks are and whether you’ll go to McDonald’s with me.”
I licked her neck and collarbone before dropping to my knees. Thank fuck she’d worn a dress today. Thank fuck it was long enough so that she didn’t wear leggings underneath. And thank fuck she was wet enough not to resist my request.
I peeled her panties from her body, pressed my thumbs to the lips of her sex and opened it wide, kissing it gently while still holding her heated gaze. “I will go to McDonald’s with you if you do as I ask,” I promised.
“What do you need me to do?” She toyed with my hair, sighing in pleasure.
I peppered kisses all over her sex before sliding my tongue into it, flicking her clit with my thumb. She groaned, tugging on my hair harder and melting into the door. I pressed her flat against the wood. Then I grabbed her thigh and draped it over my shoulder for better access and plunged my tongue deeper into her, thrusting so fucking hard I felt her thighs quivering. Her pussy tightened against my mouth, and she moaned so loud I knew people were bound to hear.
And I wanted them to. Because there’d be less paperwork if they did. Consent wasn’t an absolute defense against sexual harassment, but it never hurt.
“Scream my name,” I ordered.
She arched her back and pressed herself into my face, and hell, I loved how her pussy smelled and tasted on my tongue.
“Vicious!” she moaned, crying out again and again. “Oh my Lord, yes. Please. More.”
She gasped when her orgasm slammed through her tight little body, and she clenched so hard around my tongue I thought I’d never be able to pull it out. But I did. I stood quickly, unbuttoning my slacks and ripping a condom open with my teeth at the same time.