I was right.

I could have that dress on the floor in two seconds flat.

But I might just take my time.

I press a button on my desk. Instantly, the door locks with a loud click and the windows along the wall separating my office from the rest of our workforce turn opaque.

‘Is that yoursexy timessetting?’ Lotta asks. She drapes herself across the sofa on her stomach, her heels waving in the air, ankles elegantly crossed and face turned back towards me so she can bat her eyelids at me. ‘Use it a lot?’

‘It’s usually myI have to bollock someonesetting,’ I tell her, taking a couple of steps towards her. The curve of her arse, the dip of her lower back, looks so enticing right now.

‘You can bollock me any time,’ she tells me with a coquettish smile, and I’m instantly assaulted by the visual of being balls-deep in this one as she grinds her face into the sofa cushions in her efforts to accommodate me.

I stand next to her and bend, fondling the zipper at the hem of her dress, because of course I’m going to start at the business end.

‘Dangerous words, sweetheart,’ I whisper, and she gives a little wiggle of her delicious bottom which has me pushing her ankles down and lifting a knee so I can straddle her.

It’s a knee-length dress, and the bottom few inches of the exposed zip are already undone, leaving a little slit. I grab the chunky silver zip pull and drag it upwards. It chugs against the metal teeth, and they part for me, offering me access. Inch after inch of bronzed thigh comes into view, so alluring that I sink my teeth into my lower lip.

I’d rather be sinking them into her skin.

Then, as I run the zip pull over the curve of her arse, I’m rewarded with a sight that has me going even harder. Carlotta’s twin, shapely cheeks, divided by a scrap of red lace.

Jesus Christ.

I tug hard on the pull, unzipping her the rest of the way so I can part her dress like curtains and marvel at her rear view. Flawless skin and the delicate scarlet lace of her thong and bra.

‘Would you look at that,’ I say on an exhale, running my hands over her body. ‘So, so beautiful.’ I glide them over her arse and up her back, brushing her long hair out of the way so I can toy with the closure on her bra before I slide my thumbs back down and under the waistband of her thong.

I have no idea where to start. I wanteverything. Want to flip her over and admire those tits in their red lace before pulling her cups down and feasting on her nipples. But my instinct is to slide a firm hand under her stomach and raise myself up high enough on my knees so I can get her onherhands and knees for me.

That’s what I’ll do.

First, I lower my full weight on top of her so my still-clothed dick is pressing between those beautiful, plump cheeks and my mouth is next to her ear. She smells incredible. Heady. Expensive. Her floral fragrance pervades my nostrils and wraps itself around my brain.

‘Did you wear this underwear for me?’ I ask her, running my lips along the soft spot just below her ear. Her head is to one side, cradled in her arms. I loop my thumb and fingers loosely around the wrist next to her face, marvelling at how daintily she’s constructed.

‘No.’ She sounds genuinely affronted. ‘I told you, I always wear stuff like this.’

I grind my pelvis against her, and she moans a little.

‘Hope you’re not too fond of it, because it might not come out of this unscathed.’ What I really mean is that neither she nor I may come out of this unscathed. ‘You asked for real, sweetheart. Things are about to get real.’

She tries unsuccessfully to wriggle beneath my weight. ‘I’ll believe you when you show me.’

I laugh softly and press a kiss to her jaw. ‘My little hellcat. I’ll show you, alright.’

Raising myself up, I pull back to my knees and give her a little slap on that gorgeous bare arse. ‘Up you get. Hands and knees.’

She does so with a sexy little noise of approval, her sleeveless dress sliding down her arms and fully off her. I nudge her legs apart one by one and position myself between them. Her arse is exactly where I need it, and I allow my hands to roam over those cheeks, to savour the dip at her waist, my thumbs to explore the curves of her hips.

I could spend hours worshipping her body, and I will, just not right now. For one thing, I won’t last that long, and for another, she needs me to prove a point. She needs me to show her that the gruff, pretty fucking basic guy she’s inexplicably responded to over the past week is still there. That the fancy Tom Ford get-up means bugger all.

That I am every inch the dirty, primal animal she seems to want me to be.

Shouldn’t be difficult, because that’s what this pampered, gorgeous, sparky little princess turns me into, whether I like it or not.

But I’m very, very glad she likes it.