100 Days

She's sitting behind her desk, her slender legs crossed, in a tight black skirt and blazer. She raises her eyes, and looks at me. It's not a look of surprise. In fact, her look doesn't tell me anything.

Is it indifference that I'm sensing?

"Where the fuck have you been?" I say. "I was worried. You slipped out of the apartment without a word, a note, a text—nothing. And then you've been refusing to answer my calls. What's going on?"

She shrugs. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm a busy woman."

I laugh. Two can play this game.

"Too busy for a text?"

"What, Mal—do I need to be at you hand and foot now? Because if that's what you think, you're talking to the wrong woman. That's not me."

"Stop, that

's bullshit and you know it. You know I'm not asking for much."

She shrugs again. "I don't know what you want from me."

"You know what this is?" I say.

"Is this a thing?"

"That's right; it is. Your head versus your heart—your whole body is rebelling. Look me in the eyes and tell me that's not true."

She looks at me for a second, but refuses to hold my gaze.

And in that moment, I know I'm right. About this. About everything.

I walk toward her, closing the distance between us and my heart is kicking in my chest.

The way she's holding her lips slightly open, the way her tits are sitting in her blouse, like two scoops just begging to be eaten, and the way the sun from her floor-to-ceiling office windows is lighting her hair around her face—it's all making my cock throb.

I know she can feel this too. She isn't moving. Isn't speaking.

I'm now standing in front of her, and I brush my fingers against her lips, and drag them down her throat. I touch her lips again, and this time she opens her mouth, sucking them with her warm, velvet tongue, and it sends a bolt of electricity traveling down my spine.

With uncontrolled lust, I grab her throat, bringing her closer to me.

“Unbuckle my belt.”

19

Athena

“Nice to see you again,” I whisper, my heart feeling like a hand grenade inside my chest. His words have awakened something visceral inside of me, and I can’t wait to obey him. Images of Malcolm taking out his frustrations on my jacket, my skirt, my blouse, my bra, and oh dear God my thong. I want him to destroy my thong. I'm getting way too far ahead of myself.

“I was wondering if there was ever going to be an ‘again,’” he says, his words heavy and tense. “Did you plan on coming by, returning a call, send a text, or maybe a fucking carrier pigeon.”

I'm getting wet listening to him go on. Why in the world does this turn me on like this?

“Unbuckle my belt,” he repeats, but I know I can’t submit to him this easily. I can’t show him how bad I want and need him. If I can push his buttons just a little harder I'll get exactly what I want.

I move my fingers down his chest, stopping when I have them hooked on his belt. Then, my eyes on his, I let go and take one step back. Without saying a word, I go back to my desk and pick up the phone. “Could you please cancel any other appointments I have today?” I say, trying hard to conceal the lust that insists on making my voice heavier. I hang up the phone and finally lock my eyes onto Malcolm’s.

“So what is it that you want me to do?” I ask him, fully knowing that I’m teasing a wild and dangerous animal.

“I want you to stop being so fucking hot and cold all the time. Either you are into me, or you’re not, but stop messing around and just say which one it is for you.”