Page 42 of Foreplay with the Boss

“Probably not,” I said again, “but that’s never stopped me before.”

She tsked and shook her head. “Guess the skirt is staying on, then. Too bad because this thong I’m wearing barely has enough fabric to qualify as underwear.”

“Take off the skirt,” I growled.

She slowly reached for the zipper of the skirt. She inched it down halfway and then locked gazes with me. “Remember, no touching. Or the game will be over.”

I curled my hands around the arms of my chair and narrowed my eyes so she knew that I wasn’t a fan of her terms, but that only made her smile wider.

Pretty sure it was why she also shimmied out of her skirt, torturing me with every sexy little movement. Holy fucking shit.

She took a step closer but remained just out of swiping distance.

“Is that outfit my punishment? Having to stare at you in it, but not being able to get my hands on you and feel it for myself?” I’d play her little game for now because the lust flooding my body and mixing in with frustration was oddly intoxicating. But by the end of the night, this woman was going to be bent over my desk and begging for mercy.

“It’s half punishment, half be a good boy and I’ll reward you.” She stepped closer, within my reach, and while I’d decided to play her game, it still took all my willpower to keep my hands on the armrests.

“Good. Keep your hands right there and we can have some fun. As I mentioned, I’m very serious about you not touching me.”

Wait. What?

She bent, giving me a prime view of her fantastic tits and unknotted my tie. Then she slowly slid it free and used it to secure my right hand to the armrest. “Just to keep you from forgetting it needs to stay there.”

“That’s fine. I can do a lot with one hand tied behind my back—or to my chair.”

She shook a chiding finger at me as she clicked her tongue. “Not if you want the show to keep going.”

The phone rang and she jumped. “Just ignore it,” I said.

She frowned at the still-ringing atrocity. “I thought that everyone had left for the day.”

“That’s why the calls are sent straight to my line. It’s fine. It’ll just go to voicemail.”

She glanced from the phone to me, then back to it. “Maybe I should answer it.”

“Do not answer it. Whatever it is can wait a few minutes.”

“A few minutes? Here I thought this was going to take a while.” She tapped a finger to her lips, then lifted the receiver and gave the caller a chipper greeting. She looked at me, and if she handed it to me, I didn’t care who it was, I was going to tell them to fucking call back later. “He’s a little tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?”

She spun, giving me full view of her ass, that tiny red triangle of fabric highlighting it in a way that made every last drop of blood flow south. She hung up, her cheeks flushed pink. “That was rather exhilarating now, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what kind of monster I created, but I’m not sure whether to be scared or turned on.”

“A little bit of both.” She straddled my chair, brushed her lips across mine, and then sucked on my neck as she went to undoing my buttons. I reached for her with my free hand, hooking my hand behind her knee, and she smacked my hand and pulled away.

“Kat,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “You’re driving me fucking insane.”

“Oh no, you’re not quite at the insane level yet. But you’ll get there soon.” She cupped me over my pants and I arched into her touch, wanting more—needing more.

She squeezed, ripping a guttural groan from my throat. “Are you going to keep your hands to yourself?” she asked.

I nodded, even though I had no intention of doing so.

She went to remove my shirt, but it snagged on the tie, so she undid the knot, tossed my shirt aside, and then retied my arm to my chair.

“Turnabout is fair play,” I warned, “and I’m going to make you pay for this later.”

She undid my zipper and tugged my pants down, then she climbed onto my lap, her damp heat dragging across my achingly-hard dick. She moved her lips next to my ear and gently bit at the lobe. “Bring it.”

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