Tempting the New Guy. Alegra Verde

he was also cute and funny.

      “I gotta go,” I said.

      He nodded and swiped a curved finger under my chin before releasing me from his gaze.

      Bruce was standing before the window, his back to me when I entered his office.

      “Lock the door,” he said. His voice was barely audible.

      I did as he asked. He was asking, wasn’t he?

      He waited until I was seated in one of the two chairs that fronted his desk before saying, “You and Johns seemed to be getting along well.”

      “He’s a friendly guy.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but I sensed that some kind of showdown was coming.

      “And you? How friendly have you been?”

      How was I supposed to respond to that? Obviously, he had something he needed to say.

      “He’s been here what two months and you and he are whispering and handing off notes like a couple of teenagers.”

      Obviously, he had eyes in the back of his head, but this agitation was out of character. He needed to get a grip. This was not something that should be discussed here, even with the door locked. I hated it when he got all possessive. I’d never really made any commitments to him, and I don’t like being pushed. I pressed my lips together. The walls were too thin.

      “It’s bad enough that I have to suffer Alex Rodriquez, but at least he doesn’t live in town, and he doesn’t work for the firm.”

      “What’s really wrong here?” I asked him.

      He turned back to the window. He didn’t say anything for a long time, so I stood up to go.

      “I want to fuck you,” he said to the window.

      “Maybe we can meet after work,” I said, turning toward the door. “Maybe I can arrange something.” I tossed him a smile over my shoulder.

      “Here. Now.” The words were a short burst through his pursed lips.

      “I don’t like bringing this to the job.”

      “You did with Alex.”

      “That was once and it was before.”

      “Well, then you owe me a once, here.”

      “I don’t owe you anything, Bruce,” I said as I headed to the door that joined my office to his.

      But he was there before me. “Glory, Glory,” he was saying. “I didn’t mean…I.” And he was reaching for me, his long powerful arms securing me, but I pushed at his chest.

      “No,” I said, “neither of us owes the other anything.” My hands were pushing hard against him. He held me tighter and, lowering his head to mine, he tried to kiss me, but I turned my head from side to side, trying to avoid his mouth.

      “It’s just that—” he was saying, and I could feel his hardness against my stomach. His hands were at the back of my skirt, on my ass, cupping and squeezing the flesh of my cheeks through the cloth. Then he was tugging at the skirt and I could feel the fabric rising, the cool air on my thighs. I tried to push him away again, but he held me tighter, his upper arms a vise trapping mine. His mouth groped for and found mine, his tongue eager and aggressive.

      “Stop it,” I said, and shoved at him. “Not like this. Not here.”

      “I just want to feel you,” he was saying as his fingers ducked beneath the thin line of my thong and ran down the crevice of my ass to sink into the heated flesh of my sex. “You are always wet for me,” he was saying as he slipped his fingers between the folds, oblivious to anything other than his own needs. “You’re so fucking sexy.” His fingers slid deeper, coating themselves in my lubricant as he pressed the thick ridge of his penis deeper into my stomach, burrowing, as though seeking warmth.

      “When we were in the meeting, all I could think about was the time you bound my arms to the headboard with one of your stockings. Then you rolled that cock ring down the length of my penis and I was afraid that you would just leave me there. You can be so cruel sometimes. But you climbed over me, straddled my head, pressed your wetness to my face and made me suck and lick at you until you came.” He was breathing hard now and his cock twitched against my stomach.

      “You shivered against my face. The lips of your sex were so hot and your spicy smell was everywhere. I pressed closer so that I could feel the vibrations and my nose dipped into you. I inhaled so hard it made me dizzy.” A thick finger was circling my entrance. “As you came, your pussy beat against my mouth and your juices ran down my jaw and coated my lips. I wanted to swallow you whole.”

      I stilled, thinking that maybe if I didn’t respond he’d understand that I didn’t want this. Not here. But he was intent on arousing my desire so that he could confirm his claim on my body.

      “In the boardroom, with Linda complaining about sign-in sheets, I was thinking about how wet you always get. I was so hard for you I barely heard what Birch was saying. All I could think about was dipping my hard fucking cock into your wet pussy.” He said the words into my hair as though they were words of love rather than lust.

      He was a grown man, not a teenager. He knew how to reel it in, and I was far from falling for that “I’ll die if I don’t get some” bit. If we were anywhere else, I would have struck out, loudly proclaimed my objections and he would have been on his ass, writhing in pain. But we weren’t anywhere else and I would never call him out here. He knew it, too. So he pressed his advantage, his hand on my breast now rubbing it through the silk of my blouse and then using his thumb to rouse the nipple.

      His hands were rough and purposeful as he turned me about and pressed me against the wall, face-first. I let him. I would concede him this victory. He shoved my skirt up farther until it rode my waist like a belt and then he was shoving my thong aside. From behind me, his hand pressed between my legs, opening my stance as a finger slid up through the widening passage of my thighs, nudging its way through the slippery labia to tangle with my clitoris. The broad tip of his finger slipped up and around, engaging in a sort of gliding dance that ended in a wet kiss as its tip pressed the swelling nub. I shuddered, as he knew I would. His lips nipped at my neck; his tongue darted out, leaving a trail of damp tingles. Even through the growing haze of need, the sound of his zipper seemed to resonate throughout the room. The muscles of my pussy clenched in expectation.

      The tip of his penis, a huge knob, pierced my opening as he gripped my right hip with one hand and my left shoulder with the other, securing my position. I leaned against the wall, hands splayed, all at once angry with him and with myself. I should have never become involved with this man. You don’t shit where you eat. An adage well worth repeating.

      As he pushed forward, my sex twitched, anticipating the hard length of him.