how much better it would be if we were naked.
“Send me the list later. Boobs or mouth?”
“What?”
“Do you want to fuck my boobs or my mouth?”
Holy shit.
“Is it Christmas? Can Santa come twice?”
She grins at me. “Unless you’re really, really anatomically gifted, you have to choose, intern boy. You can’t be in both places at once.”
“Then boobs—although we may need to revisit that decision.”
She gets busy, sliding her tank top down with a sexy little wriggle. By the time I’ve got my brain working again, the shirt’s near her waist. I should either lean back and enjoy my show or I should be showing my appreciation. With my tongue.
She frowns down at her boobs. “I like them and they feel great, but Cleavage-R-Us I’m not.”
Small, medium, large or supersize, I’ve never seen a boob I didn’t appreciate, but I’ve spent too much time these last two weeks imagining what these particular boobs would look like. Now the only thing between me and dreams coming true is the cotton bralette skimming the top of her nipples. White has never seemed so sexy. She wriggles off me and I groan.
“Up.”
I can do up. I stand up and wait. It’s weird, letting someone else call the shots. It’s also the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s because Lola’s really telling me what she likes, sharing her fantasies with me and letting me in. Or maybe it’s just dirty and, just this once, I’m willing to try something new.
“Lose the jeans,” she orders.
Her wish is my command. I shove the jeans and boxer briefs down. I watch her looking at me and get harder. “Can I touch you?”
“Only what you can reach,” she orders—and then she drops to her knees in front of me. God bless yoga because Lola turns out to be very, very limber. Her hair brushes the inside of my thighs as she reaches for me and I bite back a groan.
The disadvantage to tying her hands is that she can’t work me with her palms. My balls also regret that decision. The rest of me, however, thinks it’s fantastic. I work my fingers through her hair and discover it’s a ponytail tucked inside itself like that alchemy symbol of a snake eating itself. The long brown length comes apart in my hands and I wrap the thick length around my palm and pull her closer.
She looks up at me, mouth parted, my dick resting on her bottom lip, all impish eyes. This is Lola, my annoying, spacey, grouchy boss. Her tongue slips out to wet her lip, grazing me. Fuck. Me.
Her lips part wider and I slip inside an inch. She hums something and I push inside her mouth. Screw waiting. Everything about her turns me on. If I’m not careful, I won’t last long. She pulls harder, taking me deeper. Shit. Her mouth is sweet, wet heat. My balls tighten, ready to shoot my load.
“Tell me to come,” I growl.
I’m not sure how she’s supposed to answer when her mouth’s full, but Lola’s creative. She nods her head and groans something. Good enough—or maybe that’s the wicked edge of her teeth skimming my sensitive head. Girl boss is still trying to take control. Unfortunately, I don’t care because she’s sucking me off with a skill and speed I didn’t expect. I tunnel my fingers into her hair and fuck her mouth hard. Harder than is strictly nice, but she lets me. Nothing has ever felt so good and that makes this whole banging-my-boss thing an even worse idea.
I should pull out.
I should ask if she’s okay with this.
Instead I lose myself in the soft wetness and blow up in her mouth.
She rocks back on her heels as I pop free. Then she wipes her mouth on her shoulder as I put myself back together.
“My turn,” she says.
I shove her pants down her long, toned legs. She’s not wearing panties. She’s completely naked from the waist down, and it’s not enough. She leans back against the desk, off balance because her hands are still tied, and I lift her up until she’s seated on it before stepping between her legs. I can smell her, so wet and slick.
“Sucking me off turned you on.”
“I’m selfish.” She crosses her legs behind my back, her heels resting on my ass. “If it didn’t turn me on, I wouldn’t do it. Did you think I was faking it?”
I reach between us, sliding my fingers down, until they rest against her where she’s so wet. I lean into her, pressing her back against the desk until she’s flat beneath me and our mouths are so close that I feel her breathe.
“You’re wet.”
“Do something about it,” she challenges.
“Do you want my mouth between your legs? Or do you have other fantasies?” I pull my fingers free and paint her lips. “Tell me how to do it.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes drifting closed. She’s thinking about it. Lola loves fantasies. This is her favorite thing, imagining the possibilities. When her eyes open, I know she’s picked a favorite, her expression changing from slightly awkward awareness to 100 percent sensual.
Hazel eyes are hard to pin down. Are they goldenish or brownish green or do they change when you least expect it? This close, Lola’s eyes are almost amber today, and I fight the urge to keep tipping forward, to fall into her eyes. Falling would waste the time we have.
She levers herself up on her elbows. “Run your hands down my body. I love your hands. They’re big and a little rough.”
I do as she narrates, dragging my hands down her body and over her hips. My fingers press against her skin, traveling over her curves and digging in. She’s soft, her skin pebbling beneath my touch.
“Are you cold?” I slide my hands beneath her ass.
“Your mouth follows your hands so I’m not cold.” Her eyes darken. She’s watching me, waiting for me to do as I’m told.
I kiss my way down her body, learning what she tastes like. When I reach the soft curve of her belly, I turn my head, resting my cheek against her. “And then what do I do?”
She thinks for a moment. Or maybe she rehearses what’s coming next in her head because the sweet, salty scent of her arousal grows stronger. It’s as if she feels everything twice as intensely, once in her imagination and then once more with me.
“I might be shy, so you brush one cheek over me, and then the other. You haven’t shaved recently and I love the way your stubble feels.”
“Like this?”
“Yes.” She exhales, eyes still closed. “Do it again.”
“Perhaps I blow on you, teasing you,” I suggest. “Since you like it slow.”
“I like it slow today,” she says. “Maybe.”
Her
