Page 71 of Worth the Risk

“Bah,” Nick shoos away my comment. “Too bad I own the damn course.”

“I own this course; you own the one down the street,” Niles snaps back before taking off on his golf cart. “They’re the bastards that threw us out,” he shouts into the wind.

At the rate these guys have us going, and with their history of a three-hour long lunch after the eighteenth hole, I’ll be lucky to get out of here in time to see Taylor back at the office, but I make the promise anyway.

Austin

I’ll be there.

Taylor

I’ll be waiting.

Her text has one last accompanying picture. I make sure the phone is turned before I enlarge it. It’s the matching thong panties to the bra she’s wearing. Only she’s not wearing them; they’re sitting on top of my desk.

The thought of Taylor sitting at her desk all day with no panties on runs through my head on a loop. By the time we finishlunch I’m so tightly wound I should probably jerk off before I see Taylor or I’m very likely to fuck her straight through the floor, chair, couch, whatever the hell I can get her on or bend her over.

Surprisingly, I get out of the golf course with just enough time to shower, change, and make it back to work. I make a quick stop at my office, surprised to actually see her panties still sitting atop my desk. I’d fantasized that she’d left them, but I fully expected it was just for the photo, after which she slipped them back on.

I can’t resist and I bring them to my nose and smell them, the faintest hint of her on them still remaining from her ride into work.

It’s now 4:21, 4:22, 4:23. I count down the minutes until I can’t stand it. I walk to the elevator and hit the button, her panties still in my hand.

When I reach for the handle of her office door, it’s only 4:27.

“You’re early,” she says, leaning against her desk, her fingers curling around the edge. That’s when I notice her blouse, an extra button undone, revealing just enough that I see a flash of her red bra.

She was waiting for me.

The thought excites me further.

“And you’re not wearing these,” I say, holding up my hand, the sheer red scrap dangling from my finger.

“Oops.”

She slowly starts to inch her way back onto her desk, her eyes never leaving mine as she reaches down, bunching the material of her skirt up just enough so that she can spread her thighs, giving me a perfect glimpse at her sweet, wet center.

I take a few seconds to admire her, my mouth watering.

But when my eyes travel back up to her face and I witness her expression, I reach for my belt without hesitation, walking toward her.

“How do you want it?” My belt is through the first part of my buckle when her hands reach for my shirt, and she pulls me toward her hungrily.

“Kiss me.” Her lips are on mine before she finishes the plea. Her hands sliding up my body, into my hair so she can pull me even closer.

My cock throbs, begging for release. I reach down to finish undoing my belt and zipper.

She slows the kiss, her hands reaching down to grab the hem of my polo, pulling it upward. I help her, lifting it over my head and tossing it to the floor. She runs her hand down my chest slowly, to my abs and finally to my cock.

“How?” I moan into her mouth, my strength to continue holding back hanging by a thread. “What do you need?”

“Fuck me,” she whispers back, her tongue licking inside my mouth, “slowly.”

I groan, my body wanting a quick, hard release after today’s torture.

“Unbutton your blouse.” She undoes another one.

I slide my hands up her thighs, beneath her skirt, wrapping my hands around her ass and tugging her closer to the edge of the desk.

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