Page 21 of Due South

She lets go of my tie, and the look of betrayal on her face is soul-crushing.

“Not for good! I just had to—” I make a frenzied gesture between the desk and the tented front of my pants. “It was…uncomfortable.”

“But you’re probably right.” Her tone is slow, but steady, and I don’t want her to talk herself out of this again. “We could both get fired and neither of us can afford to lose our jobs, and—”

My brain is spinning because she’s not wrong, but god what I wouldn’t give to have something for me. To have something good and bright in the black and white of my days. Something bright red and cherry-vanilla flavored. To have Lucy.

I’m a decently smart guy, which sometimes gets overshadowed by my undeniable awkwardness, but I should be able to figure out how to let us enjoy this. And that’s when it comes to me.

“Wait, Lucy, hold up. I have an idea.”

My hands come up, index fingers pointed toward the ceiling and my other fingers curled toward my palm, and I start pacing. I used to do this when I was on the debate team or when I was studying for a big test. Something about it helps me think better, and I kept it up even though Darren used to call me Super Chuck when I did.

“Well?” she demands, and I want to hand it to her on a silver platter, this brilliant idea that’s going to enable us to keep doing this thing we both clearly want to do, but are too responsible to go for without fear of the repercussions.

“Let’s compromise, okay? This doesn’t have to be all or nothing, right? I mean, the odds of getting caught go up the longer this goes on, but what if we didn’t do it for very long? Hardly anyone’s gonna be in the office for the next few days because of the holiday, so how about…how about until this project is over, we can fool around? And then after the holiday when everyone’s back, we’ll stop.”

She looks me up and down, her gaze pausing for longer than strictly necessary where there’s still a noticeable bulge in my pants. “So you’re saying we can keep sleeping together until this PRA thing is done.”

“Yeah.”

Her mouth twists up to the side, as though she’s honestly considering it, and it makes my heart grow three sizes.Come on, Luce. Say yes.

“And no one has to know.”

With that, my heart deflates some. Would it be so terrible for someone to know we were sleeping together? I mean, professionally, yes, because we would get our asses handed to us on a Fired platter, but is she embarrassed by me otherwise? Am I not who she would choose to date? The point is moot, though, so I shouldn’t let the possibility get me down. “Our little secret.”

She chews her bottom lip, and I wish it were my teeth sinking into the plump pinkness. “That doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. I mean, the hours we’re going to have to put in should be illegal, and sex is good stress relief. We’d be doing BCG a favor.”

“Exactly.” I’m warming to this. “It’s the most efficient way. Not having to leave the office, even to get some, is enhancing our productivity.”

She giggles, and some of the fear she might say no leaves with an answering laugh. “I probably wouldn’t try to sell India on its merits that way.”

“Can we not talk about work for a while? I can think of things I’d rather be doing with my mouth.”

Her mouth forms the prettiest O, and I can think of things I’d rather her mouth be doing, too. But first…

“Push your chair back.”

She does as she’s told, keeping her eyes locked on mine as the wheels roll over the mat behind her desk. I walk around and study her cube for a second before deciding, yeah, there’s enough room for a grown man to crouch under the desk. Which is exactly what I do.

“Evans, what are you—”

I shush her and position myself so I can pull her back, spreading her thighs as I do. The lighting in here isn’t ideal, but I can still see the lace of her panties pulled tight between her legs. Which is totally sexy, but they’re also in my way. Reaching under her skirt, I urge her hips high enough to drag the scrap of fabric down her thighs. I could take them totally off, but the idea of them slung around one ankle because we couldn’t even wait that long to go at it is hot. So that’s what I do before pulling her even closer, her wheelie chair aiding and abetting our illicit activities.

After a few seconds of licking and tasting her, I realize the chair keeps rolling away, which, dammit, I don’t want it to, but I also want to use my hands, push fingers inside her so I can feel the pulse of her orgasm when she comes. It takes some fumbling, but I find the lock on the chair and pull her exactly where I want her before flicking it so she won’t roll away.

I’ve always had a fantasy about a woman going down on me behind a desk, but I’ve got to say the reverse is as hot as I ever thought that’d be. Even though I know it’s extraordinarily unlikely, there’s the tiniest chance someone could come back to the office, and they wouldn’t know I was hiding under here with my head buried between Lucy’s legs. And maybe I wouldn’t even know, given how her thighs are pressed tight around my head, covering my ears.

It’s stupid to need anything other than the taste, the smell, the feel of her, but I can’t help fantasizing someone’s going to come back because they forgot something in the office and they stop to say goodbye to Lucy on their way out. She’d try to be pleasant, but she’d be breathless, her words suspiciously gaspy and her face damningly flushed. But no one would ever guess what was actually going on because we’re the last two people on earth who would do something so scandalous. I mean, we wouldn’t even slip a pad of Post-Its in our pocket on the way out.

Swirling my tongue around her clit and then taking it into my mouth to suck, something thuds and drags above me. If that’s Lucy dropping her head to the desk and scraping her nails over it because she can’t even take what I’m doing to her… That is nothing short of inspiring.

She’s started canting her hips up, offering herself to me more fully, so I use my fingers to spread her apart and then enter her. Tight, hot, and wet, the feel of her surrounding me makes my cock ache. I’m so hard kneeling here and only get harder when she bangs the top of the desk with what has to be her fist. Or maybe her stapler. Whatever it is, it’s substantial and emphatic, and then she’s drawing her thighs apart slightly, enough so I can hear her say, “Evans, please…”

I stop working her with my mouth and rest my head against her thigh, not ceasing the slick pumping of my fingers, and she’s meeting me thrust for thrust. “Please what?”

“Make me come. Make me come like this. I want to come in your mouth.”

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