She took a few steps forward, her hips swaying. Her hand went to the corner of his desk and she ran a finger along the edge of the wood. “I thought I’d come by and devirgin you.”
His brows furrowed together. “What?”
“Your virginity—I’ve come to take it.” She pulled the condom from her pocket and held it aloft like a trophy. “Unless you’re not interested, of course.”
“What happened to going slow?” His face was thunderstruck, his gaze darting to the condom she held tucked between two fingers.
That wasn’t a no. Gretchen moved forward, pressing her knee between his legs on the chair and sliding forward until her breasts were in his face. “I promise to go slow, if that makes you feel any better?”
“Gretchen—”
“The way I figure it is that we’ve been going about this all wrong. I thought taking it nice and slow would make you feel more comfortable, but now I’m thinking we should treat this like ripping off a Band-Aid—make it rough and fast so you won’t overthink things.” She removed her knee and slid down until her elbows were resting on his knees. His cock was already getting hard in his slacks, tenting the front. “Parts of you are interested at least.”
“All of me is interested, Gretchen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I have a conference call in two minutes and I can’t reschedule it.”
“Mmm.” She trailed a finger over his groin. “I can stick around, you know. I promise to be quiet.”
“I won’t be able to concentrate—”
She put a finger to her lips, smiling, even as his phone rang.
With a muttered oath, he grabbed her and spun her around, dragging her ass down to his lap. He pulled his chair in, tucking their legs under the desk, and grabbed the phone. “Hunter Buchanan here.”
Gretchen wiggled slightly in his lap, keeping quiet. His cock was already hard underneath her ass, and getting harder by the minute. His thighs were thick and rather strong, and she liked that, she decided, tucking her legs over his knees to spread her ass cheeks a bit more. She leaned forward on his desk and gave a bit of a wiggle again, so her pussy would rub up against his cock.
Immediately, Hunter reached past her and hit the mute button on his phone. He groaned, his free hand going to her hip. “Don’t move like that. Please.”
“I’ll be good,” she promised in a voice that told him she’d be anything but.
He clicked off mute, giving her a warning look. “No, I’m here. Go on.”
Gretchen propped her chin up on her hands, glancing around at Hunter’s desk while he discussed a property acquisition with whoever else was on the line. His hand remained at her hip, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth as he talked. It was hard to be still, especially when she could feel the thick length of him nestled against her pussy, but the conversation seemed to be an important one—they were discussing how many millions of dollars to offer for a shopping mall—and so she tried not to disturb him.
His desk was rather austere. Most people had small trinkets or personal possessions on their desks to mark them as theirs. Gretchen’s desk at home was covered with knick-knacks, postcards of exotic places, and a stack of unpaid bills. Hunter’s desk was spotlessly clean, and the only photo he had on his desk was of yet another building that she didn’t recognize. He sure did like pictures of buildings. On one corner of the desk was a single rose—matching the one he’d given her that day—in a slim crystal vase. Since he wasn’t using his computer, she tapped his mouse to get rid of the screen saver and glanced at his desktop. Jeez, he hadn’t even changed it from the factory setting. Boring. She opened his Internet browser and looked for a desktop wallpaper that would suit him, and ended up picking something that was a gorgeous shot of roses sparkling with dew. There. At least that was something.
She glanced over at the mirror, studying it. It didn’t make sense that a man as concerned with his appearance would want a big full-length mirror directly in front of his desk. “Why the mirror?” she whispered.
He tilted the phone away from his mouth so only she could hear his response. “So I never forget who—and what—I am.”
“That’s depressing,” she told him, and then rolled her eyes when he shushed her. “You know who does that? Emo people.”
“Uh-huh,” Hunter said, but his response wasn’t for her. His fingers had moved slightly up her waistband and had moved to her skin. He now grazed her skin over and over as he alternately talked and listened. “How many inspectors did you send out?”
That small touch on her skin was driving her crazy. Gretchen leaned forward on his desk, glancing up in the mirror. Hunter’s gaze was on her, his focus intense. He had the phone to his ear, but it was clear his attention was riveted to her. She felt her pulse begin to thrum with excitement, and she gave her thighs a little squeeze to see his reaction.
His eyes widened and he tilted his head back against his chair, as if trying to keep control. “Mmmhmm.”
She could hear the strain in his voice even as he answered the person on the other end of the phone.
“Go on.”
She was pretty sure he hadn’t been talking to her, but she decided to feign ignorance. Gretchen glanced across the desk at the mirror on the far wall and decided to take the teasing in another direction. She pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it on the ground, and cupped her breasts through her bra.
He pushed forward, pinning her against the desk as he reached for the mute button again. “You’re not playing fair, Gretchen.”
“You told me to go on,” she said, tweaking her nipples.
“Goddamn it.” His gaze was riveted on her breasts. “I’m going to have to fight fire with fire, aren’t I?”