Page 4 of Losing Ansley

She leans over to look at the monitor, giving me a glimpse of her bra. I can't tell if it's black or dark green. My jaw tenses when she glances at me, and I realize I've been caught—considering the smirk she's giving me. I turn my attention back to the screen.

"We need to make a video showing people how to create their profile and explain to them how the app will link them with potential companions."

Ansley scoffs.

"What?" I grind out.

"Companions? They're not your grandparents. Jesus!" She exclaims.

"What should I say then, Ans?" She rolls her eyes.

"Uh, partners. That's what everyone calls it." She pauses and arches an eyebrow at me. "I knew you were old, but come on." I shake my head and ignore her jab at my age.

"Anyway," I start again, but she interrupts me.

"What kind of questions will people be answering? Generic stuff or personal stuff like do you kiss on the first date? Or questions about if they like to be tied up or their ass smacked?" I turn my attention to her.

"Who kisses on the first date?" I ask, ignoring her other comments. Her mouth pops open like she can't believe I asked that.

"A lot of people kiss on the first date. Some people even have sex on the first date. There are actually apps out there specifically for that." She says emphatically. I lean back in my chair and stare at her. Has she had sex on the first date? I envision finding this guy and killing him with my bare hands when I realize she's talking again.

"I know you have an aversion to kissing, but not everyone does." I bite my tongue at her insinuation, tasting copper. This woman is going to be the death of me. She stares at me, waiting for me to deny her accusation. I stand from my chair and crowd her. She tilts her head at me, giving me a bored look.

"I don't have an aversion to kissing Ansley." A brief flash of hurt fills her eyes before she hides it.

"So, it's just me then." She pushes on my chest to move me, trying to climb off my desk, but I don't budge.

"Move Lincoln." I do move, but not away like she's expecting. I place my hand on my desk behind her, forcing her to lean back and uncross her legs so I can stand between them. My eyes roam over her face, landing on her lovely full lips.

"You know why I can't kiss you." I'm so close to her that I feel the small pants leaving her mouth.

"You were six, Lincoln, and that was twenty-five years ago." She huffs and tries to lean back further, but I crowd her even more. The bottom of her skirt is digging into my upper thighs, and her breasts are touching my chest. Every time I inhale, I smell her vanilla scent. I'm sick of this back-and-forth with her. It's been this way since that night. I bring my hand to her hip and massage it, causing her to gasp.

"Have you kissed on the first date?" I whisper, and she shifts, causing her legs to widen and allowing me to step closer.

"Yes." Her tone matches mine, but her answer causes a visceral reaction. I rub my palm down her outer thigh to the hem of her skirt, rubbing her skin briefly before trekking back up.

"What about sex?" I'm not sure why I'm torturing myself. I stare into her beautiful eyes. Growing up, she hated them; she felt self-conscious about having two different colored eyes. One is green, and the other is hazel with flecks of green. I always told her they proved her uniqueness; eventually, she overcame that self-consciousness.

"I... Ummm..." She swallows and brings her hands up to rub along my pecs and my shoulders. "Yes." She admits, and it makes me want to lift her skirt, rip her panties off and make her forget any other man she's ever been with. I rub my palm down her thigh again, but this time I don't stop at the hem of her skirt. I keep going until I touch her skin. My fingers slip under her skirt when I slowly rub her thigh. I'm about to remove them when her hips buck forward, and I realize I will hate myself in the morning.

"I want to kiss you, Ans," I admit, and she squints at me, tilting her head. I lean forward and nip at her earlobe, allowing my fingers to trail further under her skirt. Her breathing begins to pick up as goosebumps break out along her collarbone.

"On a different set of lips, though." I breathe out as my index finger grazes the edge of her panties. My cock is about to punch through my pants at the thought of finally getting my hands on her.

I have wanted this since she was eighteen, probably before, but I wouldn't let myself dwell on it. She shifts, leaning back a little, causing me to pause. But she leans forward until her lips are almost touching mine.

"I dare you." She provokes, and that pushes me into action. I shove the items off my desk and pull her so her ass is at the edge. I force her to lay back, shoving her skirt up, and drop to my knees. I rub my nose along her thong and can tell how wet she is.

"You're my dirty girl, aren't you? Your panties are soaked for me." I turn my head, bite down on her inner thigh, and then kiss it to ease the slight pain. She groans and bucks her hips up. Turning my head, I do the same thing to her other thigh, causing her to cry out. I rub my hands up her smooth legs to her knees, push her legs wider apart, and rip her thong off.

"Lincoln!" She cries out. I take one look at her pretty pussy and lick up her center.

"Oh my god!" I take her legs and wrap them around my shoulders. Putting one hand down on her abdomen to keep her firmly on my desk, licking between her folds, pulling her clit between my lips, and sucking.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit!" I bite down lightly on her clit and flick her with my tongue as she tries to raise her hips to rock, but I won't let her.

"Lincoln!" She moans in frustration.

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