Emma (69 page)

However, Betsy was a realist and this was the real world. Office sex wasn’t a possibility. She and Max weren’t a possibility. A man that hot had models attached to his arm in his free time, not thirty-year-old pencil pushers with horn-rimmed glasses—though the single rhinestones on the horns were completely retro hot, in her opinion.

Betsy whipped out the last two responses. A solid forget about it for the office playboy and a reprimand to move out of mamma’s home to the forty-six-year-old man whining about his dating trouble finished the job. The template was easy since she’d saved several to work from. Finally, she initiated the shut down of her system.

Her computer whirred through the sequence and Betsy looked longingly into Max’s cube. It was after eleven o’clock and she ought to go home, take a bath, and get some sleep. Tomorrow he’d be back in his black leather chair, a phone attached to his ear and papers spread across the massive desk centred in his cube. Betsy would rather be the one spread across his desk.

Her heart in her throat, she crossed the short distance to his swanky space. A quick look around confirmed what she already knew, she was alone. Betsy lowered herself onto his leather chair, gripping the armrests as though fighting to stay seated. Her pulses hammered, her palms grew damp. The leather sighed beneath her like a lover welcoming her home.

Taking her silent dare, Betsy slipped off her heels and planted her feet on the edge of his desk, simultaneously reclining the leather seat. Closing her eyes, she lightly rubbed her thighs imagining it was him touching her. How many times had she imagined Max, whom she’d trained at the magazine and watched rise to a position above hers, humble himself for a coveted touch to her body?

She opened her legs, her skirt pooled at her hips and conditioned air touched her bare sex. A tingling sensation whispered across her nether lips while anticipation built moisture at her apex and hidden centre.

She rubbed her palms along her inner thighs, the smooth flesh pliable under her caress. Her breath rushed past her parted lips and she licked them. She thought of Max going down on his knees before her, examining her with his pitch black eyes. He would see everything, her plump labia, her cream making ready for his hard cock. “Yes,” she whispered when she imagined his husky question.

Her knees fell open, exposing her to the empty office. Betsy dragged her fingers over her labia, teasing herself. She whimpered softly.

* * * *

Max pushed through the security door and yanked on his tie. Advertising sales was a yes-man job. He hated it. Hopefully, the layout position would be his soon.

In passing, he noticed the lights had been left on in this part of the office. The last thing the magazine needed was higher production cost, and electricity consumption wasn’t going to make Philips any happier.

He froze when he made the corner and saw Betsy in his chair, her slick pussy lifted to the world, her fingers stroking over glistening curls. She moaned softly with her head thrown back, her lips parted, and her glasses askew over tightly shut eyes. Max’s fingers clenched on his briefcase. He closed his eyes thinking his fantasy life had developed way out of control. He reached down and adjusted his suddenly attentive cock.

He forced his mind to think of the woman as he saw her every day. Betsy was a serious woman with a fantastic work ethic, not an erotic poster girl. Okay, maybe she was his idea of an erotic poster girl. It had something to do with the way her shoulder length curly hair and the funky horn-rimmed glasses played off each other. It was sassiness and brains and fuck if it wasn’t sexy. And it simply wasn’t possible that his erotic employee was sitting in his chair moments before midnight in an empty office, stroking her pussy. It just wasn’t.

Thinking about her was going to get him in trouble. He focused instead on her dedication to the job. Her smart approach to the magazine industry made her a tough competitor for the editor’s position. She was very good at what she did and his only real competition for the editor’s chair he coveted. There wasn’t a chance he was going to let her get it, sex goddess or not.

He breathed a sigh of remorse for successfully banishing erotic Betsy for dedicated Betsy and opened his eyes fully expecting to see her gone. Instead, he nearly swallowed his tongue. Betsy’ fingers skimmed her pussy with skill. Her finger dipped inside, and her body shuddered. Her free hand splayed her lips wide, and Max caught sight of the slick pink folds and wet opening all the way down to her sweet rosette.

Betsy thrust her fingers inside pumped twice then circled her clit. Max blinked again, just to be on the safe side. Betsy pulled on her pussy labia, and his briefcase hit the ground.

She leapt to her feet with a squeal. “Mr. Sumner! You aren’t supposed to be here ‘til tomorrow.”

He leaned against the door frame for support. His eyes locked on her skirt, knowing exactly how luscious and wet her apex was. “Got back early,” he said, his voice gruff. “Don’t stop on my account.”

 “Uh, I don’t know what you mean. I was just…”

“We both know what you were doing. Now hop onto my desk and finish up. You’ve got me in suspense.”

She folded her hands as she studied the floor. Her nose wrinkled, and she wiped her fingers on her skirt. A reckless waste, he decided, crossing the room to her. He tugged her hand to his face and inhaled. Betsy stared at him, wide-eyed. With a long deliberate stroke of his tongue, he lapped the length of her finger.

“Mmm. You see? I didn’t imagine your fingers shoved inside your pussy. I can taste you. Now, climb up on my desk and finish the job.”

Her breath whooshed from her lungs. She studied the taut lines of his face. There was no doubt he meant business. Moisture tickled between her legs. He wanted to watch her? Was this actually happening? Her finger zinged with another lave of his tongue. Her insides went mushy. He had a fantastic mouth, and his gaze bored into her relentlessly.

Max’s eyebrow cocked with challenge. “I know you heard me, Ms. Pruitt. I want you on my desk finger fucking yourself, now.” To make his point, he lifted her to the edge of his desk, grabbed her knees and shoved them apart. The small desk lamp hit the floor, but he ignored it. He pushed her shoulder. Betsy fell back on her elbows, staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

Max spread her legs further, hooking her knees on the far edges of his desk then tossed her skirt up. Betsy scrambled to cover herself. He fisted her skirt, and she was unable to smooth the fabric over her aching flesh. His black eyes stared into her parted labia. Her sheath clenched and leaked under his regard.

His chuckle of appreciation only made her ache more.

“There’s no use hiding it, Ms. Pruitt. You want to perform. Get to it.” He placed her hand between her legs.

Her body trembled in disbelief. This could not be happening to her. Max Sumner had not caught her masturbating on his chair and did not just demand she let him watch while she finished. She gave her pussy a tentative fondle. His masculine groan filled her ears and encouraged her.

She brought her other hand back down to spread herself wide as she had earlier and heard Max swear under his breath. Stroking her lips, tugging on them she penetrated her sheath with her fingers. An answering purr escaped her. While she pumped her fingers, Betsy slicked her others over her clit, spreading her juices.

Her eyes opened to watch him. His face bore the expression of one entranced. She rubbed her clit harder, pumped her fingers faster, panting openly now as he watched her fuck herself. Her body began to hum, and she wished she had another hand to touch her breasts. Petals of pleasure bloomed around her, her orgasm upon her.

Suddenly, Max yanked her hands from her pussy. She wailed in protest, so close to climax. Her vagina sucked on nothing, like a hungry being waiting for the fingers to return.

“Why? Oh God, I want to come,” she moaned.

Max lifted her hips in his hands. His tongue dragged her slit, and Betsy screamed with the pleasure of the new hot, wet sensation from the object of her fantasies. His lips nibbled at her throbbing apex. He licked her curls giving her mound an open-mouthed nip. His mouth sealed over her clit and sucked, his tongue flicking like a mad demon on her hungry nub.

Betsy’ hips lifted, thrusting to his mouth. His long, tapered fingers found her sheath and shoved into her, twisting and rubbing the sensitive flesh. Her mind went blank, and she heard screaming outside herself as she splintered into a thousand pieces. Max leisurely lapped at her pussy until she came back down.

In her half-dazed state, she watched Max stand up and consider her bare sex. He flipped the hem of her skirt down as an afterthought and checked his watch. “Time to clock out, Ms. Pruitt. I expect you back at your desk on time tomorrow.”

He tugged open a file drawer, gently moving her leg aside as he did so. He plucked a file from the drawer and shut it again.

Betsy sat up in disbelief, blowing a blonde curl off her forehead. What the fuck? Suck and run? Max Sumner’s business face was firmly in place, and there was no indication he had just pushed her down on the mahogany desktop and thoroughly eaten her pussy after asking her to masturbate for him. The pit of her stomach flipped uneasily.

Calm as you please, he left her straddling his desk as the last shivers of orgasm rippled through her body and strode to his office door, glancing at her with mild irritation. “Be sure to turn off the building lights on your way out.”

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About the Author

Katie doesn’t let the fact that she has lived in the same small town her whole life keep her from experiencing all life has to offer. A hopeless flirt, Katie has had her share of embarrassing moments and red hot encounters.

She believes in living life to the fullest, and standing in her way just gets you run over.

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Katie loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
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