Then I kissed her, slowly, sweetly, and in complete control.
She whimpered and opened her mouth beneath mine.
That control fucking vanished.
My hand slid into her hair, the curls wrapping around my fingers, and I sank into her mouth like I’d been dreaming about since the day she’d walked into this office. My tongue stroked against hers, tasting and teasing, memorizing every line of her mouth. She tasted like chocolate and honey and I discovered that I had a sweet tooth.
But only for her.
“More,” she demanded, like she was reading my damned mind, wiggling so she sat nearly sideways on my lap.
“Yeah.” My hand slid from her hip to her lower back as she rotated, giving us an even better angle. I tilted her head and kissed her deeper this time, my tongue licking into her mouth with long strokes and light touches that electrified every nerve ending and left it buzzing, longing for more.
Kissing this woman was more than a physical act. It was a religious experience that threatened to pull the soul straight out of my body.
Her hands cupped the back of my neck, then rose to the base of my skull as she kissed me back like I was necessary to her existence. She wouldn’t be a passive lover, I knew it in those first seconds. No, Daisy would make her own demands, take her own pleasure.
It would be fucking amazing to watch her come, to feel her pulse around my fingers, my tongue, my cock. I wanted her to ride my hand while I stroked her to orgasm. No, I wanted her thighs around my ears, my tongue fucking her as she arched and writhed over me. Scratch that, I wanted her naked, keening under me as I thrust into her with the full length of my dick, getting us both there. I wanted everything.
She slid her tongue into my mouth, and I sucked on it, exchanging one of my hands for the other in her hair, holding her at the perfect position to kiss, and kiss, and kiss. There was no reason to come up for air, no logical thought to stop, not when every time we collided it was better than the last. My other hand skimmed her ribs and the curve of her waist, down her thigh and to her exposed knee, where I felt smooth silk over hot skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, putting her hand on top of mine and guiding it under her dress.
“Fuck.” I kissed her again and again, losing myself in the satin of her mouth, the heat of her skin at her thigh, the bolts of pure pleasure as she slid her hip against my aching cock. Up and up, my hand traveled as our tongues swirled and stroked, until I reached a lace band and then nothing but smooth skin.
Fuck my life, she was wearing a garter belt.
She arched against me and pulled me closer, her nails biting into my scalp with an addictive bite of pain followed by tortuous pleasure as she explored my mouth at her leisure.
I nipped at her lower lip.
She sucked mine between her teeth and repaid the favor.
My fingers stroked over the warm, satiny skin of her upper thigh and she rolled her hips upward in invitation. I kissed her again, slipping my tongue past her lips as my thumb stroked the lacy edge of what felt like the barest G-string. A single tug and I could rip the fabric, but instead, my thumb ghosted over the damp scrap of lace that covered her pussy. “You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you?”
She whimpered in response.
She was exactly as wet as I was hard. We were matched. Both aching. Both ready.
I pressed my thumb into the lace right above her clit and her hips arched up as she cried out into my mouth. Yeah, I’d give her the first one with her panties on.
The second one with my fingers deep inside her.
The third one—
“Mr. Silas?” Mrs. Donaldson’s voice came through the intercom.
She may as well have walked in and thrown a bucket of water on us. Daisy froze in my arms. I lifted my mouth from hers the barest of inches, just enough to suck in breath after breath. I felt like I’d run a damned marathon, my heart beat so loudly.
“Mrs. Donaldson,” I managed to say, my eyes locking onto Daisy’s.
The wide brown orbs weren’t just wide with shock over what we’d done. Oh no, there was heat there, and so much need that my dick pulsed against my zipper.
“Your next meeting is in the conference room. Mr. Coleman from development?” She added the last part when it was obvious I wasn’t going to respond to the first.
“Mr. Coleman. Development,” I repeated as Daisy’s lips trembled beneath mine. Her breathing was ragged and I could feel just how thoroughly slick she was through the lace under my thumb.