Heart In A Cage

06

Isabella

I sink to the ground.

"If you're not going to finish me, then I'll do it myself." Just as I rest my back against the cupboard of the desk and sigh conspicuously, he gets into a crouch between my outspread legs and looks at me with disbelief. His inked hands are dangling over his knees, and a creamy fragrance wafts between the limited space separating us.

He opens his mouth to speak, loses his words, then doesn't take his gaze off me when he overcomes his astonishment and says, "I knew you were a brat from the day I met you."

I try not to smile when he sucks the top of his teeth and continues studying me. And his chiseled features...Fuck they're making me wet.

Tendency encourages me to pop off another button on my blouse and face him with wide, seductive eyes. I don't care that we're in his store. These walls will hide me. I slide my feet further apart.

"You're not finishing yourself." He grabs my ankles, halting the show, and brings his head closer to mine. That same rich scent smells like it's entirely diffused through the air, getting stronger as he lowers to my level. "Get up, spread your legs, and lift your skirt up for me, beautiful."

There's a pang in my chest—a hot, lecherous pang that urges me to instantly shoot to my feet before even he gets up. He does so slowly, memorizing every part of me. The length of my legs, the shortness of my skirt, the area between my breasts. He's below my chin, but that power I should get inclining my head down at him doesn't come. It completely shatters when he's over me and I'm obediently moving back to the desk and holding up my skirt. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

His hand returns inside my panties. No restraint comes when his fingers enter me. Sudden, deep, and delighting. I seal my lips together, releasing only hushed moans that I know he can barely hear. The hold on my skirt slackens because he's racing into me with utter brilliance, his thumb is pressing down on my clit, and his opposite hand is supporting the back of my neck.

Being pressed against a front desk and getting fingered should bring in that sensible headspace where the fear of getting caught doesn't fire up my emotions into a blaze of desire. Each contortion of my features becomes his complete focus, and all I can do to avoid that eye-to-eye contact and brief grin that are undoing my self-control is drop my head.

But he demands, "If coming to work and rewarding yourself with naughty little breaks like these is going to be a usual thing, then I'm going to need to see those eyes on me. Look up."

It takes struggling through a coming orgasm, but I handle obeying him.

It becomes even harder to maintain quiet when victory and amusement tug the corner of his lips into an addictive, titillating smirk.

He brings his fingers up and into me with a hard force and steps closer, continuing as our distance satisfyingly declines. I drop my head and find the ability to talk, though over sharp gasps. "What if a camera—ohh fuck." That consuming pressure accumulates between my legs, growing and working its way into taking ahold of me, stirring into my consciousness to tell me it wants to step over the edge right now.

My skirt falls back into place, and Andreas lets me grasp his neck. His fingers slow down, and a scornful look washes over his face as his focus veers to something further towards the front of the store. I know Boyfriend-Girlfriend has begun.

His face nears my own, and I hear the smile with his words as he whispers. "Since this soaking cunt has helped me establish that you wouldn't mind, I need you to start acting. My darling business partner has arrived."