by M R Field
Sliding my feet into my nude pumps, I hang up my maroon dress on the outside of my wardrobe, ready for the exhibition tonight. A few nervous jitters flutter in my belly, and I welcome them. I will never be a cocky artist. Yet as the flutters continue, I have to wonder—is it the exhibition or Cole that has me this excited? Or both? What a combination of two passions.
I head toward the door, eager to start the day so our week is done and dusted and our night can begin. Watch out, Cole. You think you’re a cheeky tease? Well, I’m about to make you squirm. That pen is going to snap between your fingers. Try not to poke your eye out.
I enter the elevator, carefully balancing the tray of coffees for the guys’ morning order, and I adjust the strap of my bag across my shoulder. Looking at my phone in my other hand, I see that I am almost four minutes late, and I laugh that no email has arrived yet. He’s gone soft. Oh, what a shame. I try to channel my inner Monroe, taking life by the balls and throwing it back in its face. Game on, CEO. Let’s see what you got today.
I leave my sunglasses on in hope that they’ll hide my eyes, which I know sparkle with mischief. I struggle to keep the smile that threatens to break across my lips at bay. The door to our floor opens, and I push a bit of sway into my hips, as my heels click across the floor. Let the show begin.
Turning, I tilt my hips and press my behind into the glass door, pushing solidly against it. I shift so the door is behind me and take note of the room.
“Morning,” I sing-song as the boys lift their heads and greet me individually before going back to their workstations.
Fridays are generally our busiest day, so I don’t expect much conversation. I move to my desk and drop my bag at the side of it. Looking over my shoulder, I find Cole’s eyes on me. Well, his eyes are on my butt, then they shift up to mine, and I give him a small, seemingly innocent smile. I twirl slowly, make my way to each desk, and hand the other guys their drinks. I notice they are all wearing their headphones in an unwritten “do not disturb” request. Taking my time, I carefully place each drink down. To them, it must look like I’m just being careful, but while their eyes are trained on their sketches or laptops, I’m strategically giving a performance of my own.
Slowly moving one leg after another, I walk up to Cole’s desk, carrying the tray like a hostess on a mission. When I reach the front of his desk, his eyes run down my body quickly, and I notice the pen in his hand. Oh no, pen. It’s my turn today to screw with his mind.
My free hand goes over to his cup, and I curl my fingers around it. While balancing the tray, I bend forward, keeping my eyes trained on the cup as I place it close to his hand, away from his sketches. I tilt my shoulder down to give him the unobstructed view down my shirt.
A very faint “fuck” escapes his lips while I remove my hand, pressing my lips lightly together to hold the smile in. I blink and raise my gaze, making eye contact with him. His brow stiffens with a tinge of red to his cheeks. Hmm, is that a blush, Mr. CEO?
He breaks eye contact to trail his eyes down my neck, and my pulse flickers, but I hold firm. He takes one more peek down my shirt, his eyes widening as his chest rises deeply. From this angle, he has a fantastic view of my almost transparent lace demi bra. The top barely covers my nipples, so his breathing is a good sign that payback is as sweet as the perfume I’m wearing.
“Anything else I can get for you?” I ask softly, trying not to put any innuendo in my voice, but my nipples tell him otherwise.
He shakes his head and I straighten, wrapping my hand around my own coffee cup and pulling it out to take a sip while pretending to look at the bookshelf near his desk. He clears his throat, and I see in my periphery his coffee cup rise in the air.
I choose that moment to lean to the side of the desk to toss the tray into his bin, giving him another nipple peek. His shoulders flinch, and he grunts as he attempts to suppress a cough. I spin on my heel and walk back to my desk, looking over to the guys, who are all facing their screens and oblivious to anything that I just did.
Sitting at my desk, I bend forward to get my bag, knowing that my boobs are on display again, moving to put my bag away in the bottom drawer. I spend the next few moments setting up my laptop and my phone, and almost immediately the phone begins to ring, interrupting my acts of torment. But, I have all day to make up for slight interruptions.
By late afternoon, I have managed to:
Water my bamboo plant and bend down to check my calf. I thought I’d torn my stockings, but then I realised that I wasn’t wearing any. Oops!
Run my hand along the back of my neck and rub my stiff neck. Shame that my top tightened as I stretched both arms in the air to get rid of the chink. I lowered my elbow, as an itch suddenly appeared behind my neck.
Refill my water bottle and accidentally drop the lid onto the floor. I could have sworn Cole’s eyes were burning a hole through my underwear.
Reapply my lip gloss as often as I can.
Put more song into my voice when answering calls and try not to notice a bit more clicking in the silent air when the calls stopped.
Sprain a muscle in my face from holding in all the bloody grins.
So far, Cole has sat at his desk for most of the day, taking calls. He has spilt his coffee. Twice. It’s possible one spill occurred by the shelves at his desk as I tidied up a few folders that were on the bottom shelf.
Overall, a rather successful day.
The phone rings as I return to my desk from the bathroom, and I make a point of reaching forward to get it, ensuring that I bend down to retrieve it before straightening to stand. By my desk with a hand on my hip, coordinating a client’s request, I walk around my desk to rearrange his next appointment on my laptop. The phone call ends, but I keep the phone against my ear, take a quick look over to Nige and Brad, who are the only guys left by now, both with earbuds in, and I mutter a little louder than normal, “The pleasure is all mine. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
I replace the headset and continue typing on my computer, as a throat clears. I look up at Cole as he rubs his neck, and I pull open my top drawer and say, “I have mints if you need them.” I pick up the packet to show him.
“I’m fine.” He grabs his water glass and takes a sip.
I wait until his mouth is full before I utter, “I’m sure you are,” and open the packet to retrieve one for myself. I pop it into my mouth and peep back at him, noticing his glass is still mid-air but his face isn’t in shock. Instead, it shows pure, unadulterated lust.
My email pings, and I find a document from the client who called earlier that needs Cole’s signature. Normally he’d do an online one, but I need to get out of this stuffy office, as I think Cole is about to set himself on top of me. I send the file to the copier, do a quick scan of my emails, and find a few others to print so I can spend more time in there, letting Cole stew here with the boys.
I wait by the copier, sending silent prayers to the printing gods that these will come through. The copier has only hated me once or twice this week, so I am banking on it not being an arsehole. As one of the files comes out half the size it’s supposed to be, I realise my thoughts spoke too soon.
Moving it to the top shelf, I tap a few buttons on the machine, adjusting the settings, when the door to the room flies opens and I find Cole not standing by the frame like last time, but storming in. The door slams behind him as he reaches me, grabs my hips, and twists me into him, smashing his lips against mine. His lips devour me, plunging, attacking, and claiming me, his goatee scratching along my soft skin. My breath stutters as I struggle to keep up with him. I drop the other sheet from my hand and grip the collar of his shirt, pressing my body into his. He breaks the kiss and moves down my neck, and I shudder as short whiskers run coarsely against my skin toward my chest. His tongue darts out, and I curl my fingers into the back of his head, trying in vain to hold on.
Strong fingers grip into my shirt at the sides, and I whimper, wanting his hands on me. He takes my cue and pulls the m
aterial up, all while his lips keep kissing across the top of my chest, my chin rolling to let his touch pass. I feel the cool air brush against my stomach as he continues to pull the fabric up. His lips give me one more taste before he shifts back to lift my top to above my bra, but doesn’t move it any further. My chest pants. I want his touch.
“Some game you had going on out there.” His voice has lowered to that delicious husk that awakens my clit.
“Not sure what you’re talking about.” I attempt to play coy, but my hardened nipples could give Pinocchio a run for his money.
“Oh, you cheeky minx. I remember the boys saying you wanted a guy to make a grand gesture, so I figured I’d give it a try.”
“Give what a try?” I pant, my chest pushing out toward him.
“Your delicious fucking tits,” he growls before reaching to the cup of my bra and pulling it down, his eyes turning molten as he declares, “Fucking perfect.”
His hot breath is instantly against my skin, as he works his tongue against me.
“Oh … C-C-Cole,” I stammer, throwing my head back, as his warm hands cover my skin, cupping my breasts and drawing my nipples deeper into his mouth. My hands are restless by my side, and I reach forward to his belt and unbuckle it, tearing at the zipper and diving my fingers in, pushing down his briefs and wrapping my hand around his cock. My other hand moves to the back and I squeeze his arse, revelling in it being as tight as it looked. Holy shit. Come to Letty.
“Yes,” I pant, as he growls against my skin, and I curl my fingers harder, running them up and down his shaft. I increase the momentum with the rhythm of his pants, as his mouth and hand travel across my chest. My arm lays against his shoulder, and I run my free hand at the back of his head, my hips moving out to push into his crotch. My hand slides eagerly across his skin.
“Fuucck,” he breathes against my chest, and I lean in to tilt my breasts into his mouth.
“Keep going,” I beg, my hand rising to the tip of his hard cock. I run my thumb across it, feeling the wet drop of his pre-cum, and my knees weaken, wanting more. My fingers clutch his collar, as I draw him back from my chest, noticing a slight glimmer of gloss on his lips. Soundlessly I loosen my grip on his shirt, and I use my hand to push him back a step so I can slide down until my knees are against the floor.
“Letty, I’m close,” he gasps, my grip continuing to move up and down his shaft as he struggles to speak. “You don’t have to … I didn’t lock the door, I—.”
I look at his cock. It’s long, thick, and beautiful as it rests between my fingers. I lean forward to lick the drop that slides toward my thumb. He hisses, and I smile against him,
“Well, I better be quick, then,” I say, before pushing his girth between my lips and sucking hard as my hand moves underneath. His skin rests against my tongue, and I revel in its taste, eager for him to give me more. Much, much more.
“Letty,” he moans, as my mouth devours his cock. I savour every ridge, as I bring my other hand up to cup his balls and use my thumb to rotate them in my hand. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”
I suck harder at his warning and look up to find him watching me, which only serves to turn me on further. Later. He can make it up to me later.
He bites his lip, and I move my hand from his balls to my breast and squeeze my nipple. His breathing becomes deeper, and the pitch in his voice changes, his hands reaching for my shoulders as his hips begin to jerk.
I maintain the same stroke, feeling his fingers curl near my neck as he grunts, pushing his hips into my face as I continue to suck hard. Warm spurts land on my tongue as he thrusts against my face, and I lap up every drop. I slow my hand movements when the ache in his voice sounds, while I run my tongue up and down his shaft in one last taste. My panties are drenched, but I don’t care. Watching him come again is cemented on my Top Ten Favourite Things To Do list.
I release him and push my hand against the floor to stand, and my feet are barely flat before his hands cup my face and his lips press against mine. His tongue pushes against my lips, begging entry. My mouth parts, and he kisses me like a man soothing his hunger; it’s similar to how I feel about him. Yet, my hunger is building with each kiss.
“Tonight,” he says between kisses, “I want hours and hours on your body. We aren’t going to leave my bed.”
“So, no separate rooms?” I tease, kissing him back, running my naked nipple against his chest. He groans, cupping my breast, and I lean into his fingers, not caring if someone were to barge in. His touch is far too addictive.
“I have a few spare bedrooms. We can christen them all, if you want.” He kisses me one last time before releasing my breast on a squeeze and lifting the lace to cover both of them. “I think the Sex Olympics is a sport that I’m willing to try.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, tucking my shirt into my skirt as he dresses himself. I reach up, wipe off the gloss from his lips, and smile. “Looks like we’ve got a little habit going on with my lippy.”
“No colour is going to stop me, Letty.” He does up his zip and reaches forward onto my chest, wiping the traces of gloss away. “Your choice of clothing got my attention.”
“That was the plan.” I chuckle as I reach up and check that my hair is still intact, which it is.
Cole stretches and retrieves the copies that I forgot about and grabs them from the machine, handing them to me. He holds his arm out toward the door, and I purposely put in some extra sway, knowing he’s watching my behind.
“Sway all you like,” he says, as he reaches me at the door, his breath against the back of my ear sending shivers down my neck. “But by the end of tonight, you’re not going to be able to walk, let alone sway.”
My clit pulses, and I reach under my skirt and step away from him to pull down my underwear before stepping out of it, pulling back down my skirt.
“If that’s the case—,” I respond, holding out my lacy white French-cut knickers, “—I think you’ll find, I won’t mind that at all.”
Dropping the underwear into his hand, I turn and walk out the door, fanning myself a few times before I re-enter the office.
Bring on tonight.
Now.
Cole
My hand lingers against Letty’s back. The soft crepe of her dress feels warm against my fingertips, but it’s not as warm as what’s underneath. I’m eager to touch her, but I can’t for another few hours.
We walk through the gallery, the strong white lighting beaming down against the polished floorboards. Bright canvases line the walls and coloured squares line their frames—Post-It Notes attached from people wanting to buy them. Letty is transfixed by the pieces around us. Some are still-life portraits, while others are weird-looking sculptures. All are unique in their own way, but nothing grabs my attention. Half of what I am seeing isn’t making sense to me. Nothing strikes me like her work. Maybe I am cock-tied, but I don’t care. My girl is fucking talented. My girl. Love the sound of that.
I slide my fingers to ease across her back and feel her tremble from my touch. As we pass members of the crowd, my touch becomes calculated, teasing. A few images from our encounter in the photocopier room earlier make me hot under my collar, but I press into her skin, and I am rewarded with a little shiver. Her ruby lips and deep blue eyes turn my way, and I smile down at her, hoping to convey all the promises my thoughts are projecting. Tonight we will have our time, finally.
Her lips curve up at the sides before she looks away, her soft curls brushing across her face, and I almost feel my knees buckle from her beauty. Yep, I’m cock-tied, all right. I adjust my belt slightly with my free hand, while my other hand continues to trace the material against Letty’s back. Not helping.
I dip my mouth closer to her ear to break my dirty thoughts. “Shouldn’t we be stopping and looking at something?”
She chooses that moment to stop in front of one of the exhibits. I straighten and stare at … the plant in a glass prism. Aptly called Prism of Life. I tilt my h
ead to look at it, as it’s exactly what it is. A plant. Is that all?
My eyes creep to the side to assess Letty’s reaction. Am I supposed to be amazed?
My thumb brushes against her back, as I ponder dating etiquette. We’re in a gallery. I might have to keep it clean.
Her teeth press into her bottom lip as she surveys the box. She steps forward, out of my grasp, and picks up a Post-It Note from the stack and a pen next to the plant that I didn’t even notice. Well, that worked to clear my thoughts.
“Some artists are weird,” she mutters as she writes across the notepad. Her eyes flicker up to me as she continues to scrawl. “This exhibition is all about ‘connection.’ Patrons are encouraged to express their thoughts on the work.”
She taps the pen on the Post-It and holds her note up for me to see. “Interesting glimpse into how life can be.”
“I wanted to write: ‘fucking weird,’ along with another dozen things, but I didn’t want to tread on any feelings.” She scrunches her nose and places the note on the side of the glass. I chuckle as her thumb presses it in. I, on the other hand, feel like writing, “WTF,” but I need to curb the dickish behaviour tonight.
“Not impressed?” I raise one eyebrow teasingly.
“Nope.” Her lips pop on the P. “But I’m sure we’ll see something amazing.”
Her last pieces flicker in my mind, and I smile. Amazing is an understatement. I move my hand to her back, as we move from exhibit to exhibit, leaving a few notes here and there. My personal favourite is, “Fabulous painting. Did I stroke your ego enough?”
“So, am I going to find a picture of me with horns or something?” I tease.
“That’s not a bad idea.” She laughs as she squints to read the description on another painting. “But I have enough ideas to fill this gallery.”
