under her hips and hoisted her up until she sat on the desk, her pretty floral skirt sliding up as he pushed it up, up, over her hips. She spread herself wide for him, her arms twined around his neck, her head thrown back as he pleasured her.
The joy of this woman was how well he knew her body, how intimately he could gauge her responses. Beneath his tongue her skin was heating and he could feel her pulse hammering. When he trailed a hand down between her thighs he found her as wet and hot as he’d suspected he would. He cupped her, making her moan and squirm against his fingers.
“It’s been so long,” he murmured against her plump flesh.
“Too long,” she moaned.
Slipping his hands beneath her hips, he peeled the tiny scrap of pale blue silk and lace that passed for underwear off her, bending as he slid the foolish thing down her legs and over the ridiculous heels. He was throbbing with need, so aroused he was in danger of embarrassing himself as he rose and slid open his zipper.
She reached between them, unbuttoning him and sliding her small, capable hands around him which didn’t help his self-control.
While she caressed him he returned the favor, cupping her heat, slipping one finger into that glorious wet until she squirmed against him. He knew her so well, he knew that she was as close to exploding as he was.
He looked down into her face, her eyes that clear blue-green, her cheeks flushed with passion, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, her lips parted and eager. He closed the distance between them, kissing her hungrily.
Had he ever wanted her this much? Had he ever wanted anyone or anything this badly? If so, he couldn’t remember.
She pulled him closer and as he touched the wet heat he suddenly checked himself as reality intruded. They weren’t married anymore. He had no idea if she was on birth control or what she’d been doing since they were last together. With a groan of gut-deep frustration he cursed himself for no longer carrying a condom in his wallet. But he wasn’t a kid anymore. The only prophylactics he owned were safely in his bedside drawer at home.
Pulling away slightly, then resting his forehead against hers, he admitted the awful truth. “I don’t have protection,” he gasped.
“Oh, no…wait, I’ve got some condoms in my desk drawer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. On top of the hair spray, I think.”
He bounded around the desk and flung open the drawer. The oddest assortment of products greeted him. He dug around and found the unopened box wedged between a can of breath spray and a tube of Preparation H.
Whatever.
He didn’t let himself think about why his ex-wife kept a box of condoms in her desk drawer, simply decided to be grateful.
He tore into the box and swiftly sheathed himself, then holding his pants up with one hand, made his way back around to where his ex-wife still sat, leaning back, supported by her hands, still open for him.
Waiting.
He didn’t keep her waiting for long. Teasing her with his fingers, toying with her until her breathing grew shallow and raspy and she was moving against him, he brought her up and then pulling her hips to the edge of the desk, he stepped between her thighs and slowly eased into her. Oh, it felt so good, so right. He’d forgotten how amazing she was. Snug heat, the sweet slide as she thrust against him, the crazy dance she did with her hips when her excitement began to peak, pumping and corkscrewing around him until he had no resistance left.
Their mouths fused, their hearts pounded in sync and he thrust up and home again and again while she danced and pumped against him.
She lost control, began to pant, to moan and gyrate her hips crazily.
“Yes,” he whispered, loving the way she let herself go completely.
“Oh, Dex,” she cried, and then he felt the spasms clutch at him even as her head fell back and she cried out in ecstasy.
He stroked in and out of her slowly, easing her through her orgasm and then she opened her eyes, unfocused and huge and with a tiny moan, she grabbed his hips and thrust against him again, driving herself to a second climax and taking him along for the ride.
No way to hold back when she grabbed his ass like that, squeezing and pulling him into paradise even as she continued that crazy corkscrew thing with her hips. He was lost, and when she came the second time, he cried out in unison.
For a few minutes they remained slumped against each other, panting. Sweat dotted her upper chest and her mouth was swollen from their passion.
He didn’t want to pull out of her body, loved the feel of all that snug heat wrapped around him, still pulsing with aftershocks, their bodies close and intimate.
At last she leaned back and glanced up at him, a half-embarrassed grin splitting her face. “That wasn’t quite the meeting I planned.”
“It’s always been best between us when it was spontaneous,” he reminded her. When he thought of some of the places they’d done it, half-derelict buildings he was working on, a Finnish sauna that time he’d almost passed out, his parents’ garden shed. Her office after hours seemed pretty tame.
She gazed at him through slumberous eyes that sent him so many messages he wanted to take her all over again. His breathing wasn’t quite steady, his pulse nowhere near slowing.
“Next time,” she said.
Oh, yes, if she was talking next time then he hadn’t completely blown any chance he might have with her by acting like a Neanderthal.
He liked the sexy half smile on her face.
“Next time? What? Do you have any special requests? Positions, locales, maybe a toy you’d like to try?”
As though she’d made up her mind about something, she leaned back and said, “Who needs toys when I’ve got you?”
A toy? Shock held him speechless. She was planning to treat him like a battery-operated pleasure tool? The kind he saw in sex shops in a million girlie colors. Oh, wasn’t that just great. He’d planned to invite her out for dinner, maybe try to talk to her and instead she was treating him like he had multi-speeds and a rotating head.
She pulled up her legs and swung around and off her desk, as graceful as a dancer. “What I was going to say was, ‘next time, maybe you could take your tie off.’”
I HAD A VERY NICE time, the e-mail said. Perhaps we could do it again sometime.
Karen stared at the words and felt ridiculously guilty. She didn’t owe Ron anything. All they’d shared was coffee, but the fact that she’d shared completely inappropriate desktop sex with Dexter only a day after her date with the CPA filled her with remorse and that translated into an odd feeling of guilt where Ron was concerned.
Not knowing how to answer or what to say, she closed her computer and did what she too often did in times of stress. She walked over to
