Page 156 of Beyond the Cottage

“Settling in for the show. If I can’t touch you, you’re going to do it for me.”

Her breath hitched. Catching herself, she put her nose in the air. “You think that’s how this works?”

“I do. Lift your skirt.”

“And if I decide not to?”

He sighed. “We’re wasting company time. We both know your pussy is aching as bad as my cock, and we both know you’re going to show it to me.”

Stubbornly gripping the edge of the desk, she crossed her legs and bounced her foot. “You first, Mr. Wallenfang.”

Shrugging, he tore open his trousers. His cock sprang free, pointing north. He draped his arms on the sides of the chair and nodded at her skirt.

With a sniff, she dragged the fabric to her hips and opened her legs, revealing skimpy red drawers and her intentions all along.

He held the armrests to keep from fisting his cock. “Take them off and give them to me.”

The drawers traveled down her legs, to her ankle. She kicked them away, and he caught them.

He draped the satin scrap over his thigh. “Very good. Now show me how wet you are.”

She did. He wanted to lean forward and take a taste, but instead, he settled deeper into the chair and opened his own legs wider.

“Here’s how this works,” he said. “Your fingers are my fingers. You’re going to take two of them and put them where I tell you. Understood?”

She braced an arm behind her and arched a brow. “It’s almost like you think you’re the boss.”

“Do you want to come or not?”

Expression haughty, she traced two fingertips up her inner thigh. “You’re new around here. But I respect your initiative. Just this once, I may be willing to make allowancesifyou’re willing to be a team player.”

“What precisely does that entail?”

“Your hand is my hand, Mr. Wallenfang.”

Ansel’s cock jerked, but he managed to keep from leaking. In order to handle being in the same room as her, he’d already seen to himself twice that day. “Reasonable enough. My hand is your hand. Where shall I place it?”

“Hold your cock in your palm and present it to me.”

He cupped the underside and pointed it at her. “Two fingers, Miss Fairleaf. Circle your clit slowly, the way I’d do it.”

She obeyed, and his palm squeezed. It was all he could do to keep from stroking himself without permission. Her fingers circled and circled, only slightly faster than he preferred.

“Get in tighter,” he grated. “As close as you can without touching it.”

Her speed increased, but she otherwise did as she was told. “Take it fully in hand. Stroke it three times.”

Wincing, he jerked himself three times. “Dip your fingers lower, just deep enough to get them wet. Rub it on your clit.” He leaned in, holding his cock like an offering. “Now put them inside. Pretend it’s this.”

She looked between his legs and drove her fingers deep. “Rub the head for me.” Eyes glazing as he rubbed his cockhead, she let out a stifled moan. “Now fuck yourself. Do it hard and fast, how I would.”

Snagging her drawers, he leapt from the chair. One hand landed beside her on the desk, the other wrapped red silk around his cock, pumping hard.

They’d barely started, but he was already spiraling. He’d intended to draw this out, to keep her on the edge, but he’d been too long without her.

“Are you pretending it’s me?” he asked. “Because I’m sure as hell pretending it’s you.”

“Yes.Keep fucking me.”

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