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My dick a steel pole in my jeans, I said, “Yes, alphabetical.”
The lust nearly overwhelming me made my voice a low rasp. I cleared my throat as Charlotte glanced at me. “File them alphabetically by label name.”
She studied me briefly before nodding. “Yes, Mr. Steele.”
CHAPTER 8
Riley
I picked up the last file folder and studied the label before facing the open drawer. I bent and leaned forward, stretching to put the file in the very back of the drawer. I was so absorbed in the filing that I didn’t hear Mr. Steele get up from his chair. But I certainly felt the hard length of his dick against my ass and the strength of his fingers when he cupped my hips and pulled me back against him.
I straightened, the file still clutched in my suddenly sweaty hand. Mr. Steele kissed the back of my neck. “Finish your filing, please, Charlotte.”
I leaned forward, a quiet moan escaping when Mr. Steele ran his hands over my ass, squeezing and kneading my flesh through the tight confines of my skirt. My hands shaking, I tried to stuff the file into the drawer, moaning again when Mr. Steele slid his hand under my skirt and caressed my tightly clenched thighs.
I’d worn thigh highs, and he made a sound of approval as he traced the top of the stocking.
“The filing,” he prompted.
I stuffed the file in the drawer, pretty certain it was the wrong one, but who cared when Mr. Steele’s big hand rubbed up and down my thigh?
“Good girl,” he said, and his praise felt nearly as incredible as his touch.
He pulled lightly on one thigh, and when I didn’t spread my legs, he said, “Open, Charlotte.”
I was immediately self-conscious. I had no doubt my pussy would be dripping, and how embarrassing was that? Normal women didn’t get this wet just because a man felt up their ass and told them they were a good girl. “Mr. Steele, I -”
“Be my good girl and do as I say,” he said.
I melted immediately, shifting my feet apart and gasping when he ran his fingers up my inner thigh. His fingers skimmed the crease of my thigh, and I couldn’t contain my moan. His other arm slid around my waist, and he pulled me straight. I leaned against his broad chest, grinding my ass against his erection as his hand tightened on my hip.
His hand was still under my skirt, but he was now tracing lazy circles on the front of my thighs, his fingers a soft rasp against the nylon. I twisted my hips, trying to encourage him to touch my pussy. His warm chuckle stirred the curls that had escaped my bun.
“Please,” I said when he didn’t react to my subtle hint.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Please touch me,” I whispered.
He squeezed my thigh. “Take off your shirt, Charlotte.”
I hesitated. It was stupid to feel shy, I had just asked him to touch my pussy, for God’s sake, but my self-consciousness about my not-so-perky tits reared its stupid head.
“Charlotte.” Mr. Steele’s voice was stern, and what did it say about me that it turned me on? “If you want me to touch your pretty pussy, take off your shirt.”
My body aching and throbbing for relief overrode my self-consciousness. I stripped off my shirt and placed it on the filing cabinet. I closed my eyes, my body stiff and my lust ebbing away as the cool air washed over my naked breasts.
The silence stretched out like warm taffy, and my skin grew hot. I was about to pull away and reach for my shirt when Mr. Steele said, “So goddamn beautiful, Charlotte.”
My eyes popped open, and I stared mutely at Mr. Steele. He was staring over my shoulder at my breasts, and when he raised his hot and glittery gaze to mine, I could practically feel liquid dripping from my pussy. The pure lust on his face left no doubt he told the truth.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, his dark eyes boring into mine.
“Th-thank you,” I whispered.
He pulled his hand out from under my skirt, but before I could mourn its loss, he turned me to face him and cupped both of my breasts with his big hands. I arched my back, the sight of his fingers plucking and pulling at my hard nipples more erotic than I could ever have imagined.
When he bent his head and sucked my right nipple into his mouth, I cried his name and clutched at his head. His tongue flicked across my nipple, sending a line of pleasure straight to my core. I arched again, the hot suction of his mouth as he switched to my left nipple left me barely able to think straight.
