Page 41 of Filthy Hot Escort

But he hadn’t let her run for long. He’d come to her.

He still wanted her.

Think about it but don’t wait too long to get back to me,he’d said.Because I’m done waiting.

At the memory of his bold statement, Skylar threw her head back and hissed.

Yes! Don’t let me get away. Make me come. Make me give you all of myself. Give me what I want. I crave it. I demand it. My submission.Yoursubmission . . .

God, she was so close. Closer to orgasm than she’d ever been, even on that night he’d gone down on her.

I want to come.

Now. Here.

Wouldshe come with Julian dominating her thoughts? Would this be how he made her orgasm? Could she reach those dizzying heights she’d heard so much about?

I’m going to do it. I’m going to make myself come for the first time in years. Me, just me. Even if it is to thoughts of him.

Her whole body was shaking when she heard the stern rasp of knuckles on her office door. Startled, she violently jerked her hand away from her pussy. Sweat-slicked chest heaving, she looked down at herself. Her once crisp, white blouse was unbuttoned and wrinkled and damp. Her skirt was bunched around her hips. Her heels were kicked off, hiding somewhere underneath her desk.

Oh, God. Hopefully, whoever it was at the door would leave if she didn’t answer.

“McKenzie, open this damn door.”

Fuck! That was Hardy Priese’s voice.

Her first instinct was to scream in anger.

Fuck you, Priese, fuck you for interrupting me when I was so close.

But then panic coursed through her body as she tried to speak. “Mr. Priese, I’m on the phone,” she called out, but her voice was rough and thick with the lingering effects of arousal.

“Well, hang up, goddammit,” Hardy grumbled irritably back, resuming his incessant pounding like he was the fucking Gestapo. “And unlock this door. I haven’t got all day.”

“Just a—um, just a minute!” she called out, already fumbling with her blouse buttons and trying to smooth out her skirt at the same time. Where the hell were her shoes? She stood, the chair rattling against the bookshelf behind her as she ducked under the desk. There, the familiar red sole of one Louboutin. And the other? “Hold on!” she called out.

But Hardy Priese was in his “I wait for no one” moods and yanked at the locked door.

She nearly yelped as the door rattled with each jerk he gave on the handle. It was as if there was a five-year-old throwing a tantrum behind the door instead of a grown man in a high-level banking position wishing to speak with a colleague. Thankfully, the door held, but Skylar had no illusions that it would continue to remain sturdy. At least she’d found the missing Louboutin.

Quickly, she slid her shoes on, then ran trippingly across the marble floor, hastily tucking her shirt into her skirt with one hand.

“What the fuck are you doing in there, McKenzie?” Hardy growled out as she smoothed her skirt and ensured her blouse was buttoned correctly. She hoped that her cheeks weren’t stained bright red or that her turgid nipples weren’t obvious through her thin, silk blouse.

“Open this goddamn do—”

She swung the door open. “Mr. Priese,” she said firmly, blocking the doorway. As she’d flung the door open, she remembered the incriminating evidence still up on her computer screen—a picture of Julian, nude except for that damn pile of gold coins. “Good evening. How may I help you?”

She forced a smile even as her hands balled into fists. Fists she tucked behind her back, out of view.

“I need the quarterly ROI reports printed out for the Riverton account,” he barked, hot breath smelling of horseradish and stale coffee.

It took even more willpower for Skylar to keep her polite smile in place. How dare he? “I’m sure yourassistant, Jill, could help you with that, Mr. Priese.”

“She’s gone for the night,” Hardy complained. “Some shit about feeding a baby.”

“I’m afraid since I’m not your assistant, I’ll have to wish you the best of luck finding—”

---