Page 58 of Taste

He was doing it again. Playing me like this, because he knew what it did to me. It turned him on to see me lose it like this, stumbling and tripping over my words, lost in impulsive decisions I had no control over. This was not an official proposal; this was something we had mulled over naked in bed while he was licking the remains of our dinner from my fingertips.

How I kept it together was beyond me, I was sweating profusely under my jacket by the time Mr Klutz led the audit guy out of the room, still clutching one of Mark’s biscuits. There was laughter around us, nervous perhaps, but also relieved; Mr Klutz had been unusually thorough, and none of us had come out unscathed by his sharp tongue today. It hit me that Mr Klutz had been as nervous as the rest of us, and I wondered which one of his many small arrangements was about to land him in deep water because Mrs Carrington was no fairy godmother, and I certainly never covered for his decisions or wrote them off as mine.

“I wasn’t lying,” Mark said from behind me, reaching over to grab the last of the discarded biscuit crumbs from the tray on the table. “I had some intense and very productive discussions with our union representative.”

“Did you now?” I asked with a smirk, hoping nobody was paying attention.

“Yes, and he very kindly sucked my dick after telling me how brilliant my proposal was. I find this newflexible department contracta verysatisfyingidea of yours.”

“Stop it, Mark.”

“Make me,” he murmured into my ear before gathering his paperwork and letting his phone slip provocatively into his back pocket. Then he walked out, leaving me to loosen my tie. I knew exactly what he was up to, and I was praying that Mr Audit Guy had chosen another department for his first delve into our operations and wasn’t standing outside my office waiting for me as I strode down the corridor with determination in my step.

It was one thing talking about it lying in bed with him curled up on my chest, a whole other ballgame actually walking down to our conference department and letting myself into one of our meeting rooms with a nonchalant swipe of my master key.

This particular room was my favourite, with its sleek, six-seat glass table set off against a backdrop of the same panoramic views as the boardroom. The tinted windowpanes were one of the reasons we’d chosen this as the ideal place to indulge in sexual activities at work. It was also currently restricted to in-house bookings due to an electrical fault, and nobody used it. Well, apart from Mark Quinton, who’d reserved it for a brief in-house discussion with the front-of-house manager.

He was standing by the window, his jacket thrown casually on the table, and his smile lit up the world as I let the door fall shut behind me.

“I really wanted to fuck you wearing that leather jacket,” I said, my voice gravelly with arousal.

“Pressed up against the window?”

“It’ll be easy to clean up. And someone might just walk by outside and hear you scream.”

“That’s what makes this more fun. Just look at you. You’re so bloody conflicted right now, full of shame and arousal and going against everything you know.”

He grabbed my junk through my suit trousers. The gasp that came out of my mouth was all of that.

“I’ve got lube,” he whispered. “But I’d prefer if you just go raw. No condom. No lube. Make me feel it all day. I want to stumble around with a sore arse knowing that you’re sat in that office of yours with a smug grin on your face knowing exactly what you did to me.”

He didn’t need to say more. I’d already swung him around, pressing him up against the glass as I worked his belt and pushed his jeans down to his knees, briefly gripping his erect dick in my hand before freeing my own.

“The things you make me do. Tell me you want it. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I want…” The throaty moan coming from him was deliciously desperate in its rawness. I took his mouth with mine, the taste of coffee mixing with that now familiar taste of home. Sweetness with strong, sharp undertones. I loved the way he tasted and the way he smelled as my nose pressed against his neck. I licked his neck, whipping his snazzy silk shirt away so I could bite his shoulder, leave those small marks I knew he would be stroking for the rest of the day.

“What do you need, baby?” I laid kisses in little lines up the back of his neck. Fuck, he smelled good. Tasted even better. I wanted to devour him. Rim him. Suck every last drop of come from his dick.

“Do it. Hard. Fast. Make me feel you, darling.”

I wasn’t sure about the no-lube idea, but he was doing it to again, challenging me to break my rules, taking me down one tiny word at a time, and it made me so fucking hard.

So I did exactly what he asked of me. I pushed him against the glass, the London skyline spread out in front of us. People milled around like tiny ants below, but I felt safe in the knowledge that unless anyone was really looking…well, fuck that. The tinted windows would show nothing. Not that I cared right now, as my dick pressed against his opening. I pulled out and spat in my hand, coating the tip.

“Chicken.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me. I like it like this. Raw. Primal. Just you and me.”

I snaked my arm around his front, holding him in place with a firm grip on his chin. I wanted him like this, safe in my arms. I pushed, and he let me in, the sensation intensely overwhelming. He was right; it was just him and me, bright spring sun in our faces and his mouth once again on mine.

I fucked into him, long heavy-handed strokes, one hand holding his hip, the other keeping his mouth on mine while his hands painted awkward smudge marks on the glass. My breaths were shallow huffs now, my head swimming in the insanity of what we were doing. He made me reckless. He made me stupid. He made me blush at every tiny, minuscule action the instant I made them, and my cheeks were flaming with a mix of arousal and…I didn’t want to call it shame. It was a new sensation which I vaguely registered was love. That connection we shared, the threads binding us together sparkling like the rays of sunlight through the window.

“We’re going to get caught one day,” I whispered into his mouth.

“Nah. We’re in a meeting. A very important meet—ugh.”

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