Page 37 of Party Favors
She wanted tonight to be special too.
Now the question was—should she go naughty or nice?
She changed quickly, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Heat pooled in her belly, and her hair stood on end. She looked hot and fierce and ready to fuck.
Which was perfect. It was exactly the vibe she intended to give off.
When she opened the door to the conference room, a gasp caught in her throat. Amanda was sitting on the edge of the table facing the door, her legs crossed elegantly and hanging off the end. She was wearing a pale pink silk lingerie set. Both the bra and underwear were simple, wearable, and low fuss. It was high dollar, though. Wren could tell with a single glance. The set was very Amanda. The bra had full cups and wide straps to support Amanda’s rather substantial breasts, and the panties were cut to reduce panty lines. They showed that she was practical but liked her underthings to be pretty and chic.
The thing that was really blowing Wren’s mind, though—Amanda had left her black pumps on.
“You look—”
“Oh my—”
They both stopped talking and stared at each other.
“You’re blowing my mind, Wren.”
“Why?” Wren set her bag of goodies on the conference table beside Amanda.
“Because your strappy getup … I could only imagine it in my wildest dreams.”
“That’s me,” Wren said. “Wildest.” She plopped down in the leather office chair at the head of the table and rolled right up to Amanda’s legs.
Amanda spread them because she was an angel fallen from heaven and put her feet, still in those fuck-me heels, up on the arms of the chair.
Wren was helpless but to kiss her ankle, to worship the transition between foot and shin and knee with her lips. She trailed her mouth up the inside of Amanda’s thigh.
This setup was making Wren feel bossy. Well, bossier. She had a tendency to be overbearing in bed, but right now she felt like the CEO about to ravish her darling secretary.
As Wren pressed her face to the juncture between Amanda’s thighs, there was a tickle on the back of her neck. Amanda was tracing the satiny bamboo straps of Wren’s bralette, focusing on the halter that encircled her throat.
They were polar opposites—Amanda in a prim and sensible silk set, Wren in a super strappy blood-red one with an honest-to-God collar. Wren liked that about them. She liked that they were different but fit so well.
She just wanted them to fit outside of bed too. To match. To stick.
But she couldn’t think about that. She’d promised Amanda a getaway, a fling to literally fling away the expectations and pressure exerted on her. She’d promised Amanda a rocking New Year’s Eve, and she planned to deliver.
Without a word, she pressed her mouth to Amanda’s pussy over her panties, letting her breath ghost over the silk. Amanda had to slam her hands down behind her on the table to catch herself.
“You gonna soak these pretty little panties for me, Amanda?” Wren asked before latching on to Amanda’s clit and sucking.
“Oh God” was all Amanda seemed to be able to manage.
Wren nuzzled her. “I love how wet you get when you come. The way you taste. You deserve someone to live under your desk at the office, to work you over every day like this.”
“Yes. Wren, fuck.”
Wren glanced up to see Amanda staring at her avidly. “Do you trust me?”
Amanda nodded.
“If you don’t like something I do, or if you’re unsure, all you gotta do is say so. I’ll stop right away.”
“Okay.”
Wren reached into her bag and pulled out a sliver of silk. It was the belt to a dressing gown, but it would do the trick.
