Page 43 of Watching Her

I tilted my head, studying the work of art taking up residence in my office. I had a blank wall, which was perfect for it. But for now, it was leaning against the wall, although after some deliberation, I’d insisted the delivery men uncrate it. I’d thought about keeping it covered, almost fearful of the inanimate object.

Which was ridiculous.

But I’d had the creepy-crawlies since returning. Partially from the jerk who’d accosted me, but mostly because of the note. I’d ‘chatted’ with both Jasmine and Chantal and neither had been able to determine who the note had been for or from. And there hadn’t been a repeat.

For some crazy reason, I expected there would be.

I didn’t like the feeling of being watched, followed, or otherwise stalked by anyone, including by some keyboard warrior who obviously thought he was hot stuff.

Maybe my handsome mystery man could come to my rescue.

Another glance at the painting and I was able to take several deep breaths.

I’d done a tiny bit more research on the artist. There were no pictures of him, the stories on the internet treating him as if a genius recluse. His pieces went from tens of thousands for smaller paintings. One of a size similar to what was placed ten feet away? Upward of three hundred thousand.

Why in God’s name had I won the piece? The thought of bribery no longer stuck the way it had before. The not knowing was infuriating.

A soft laugh left my lips and I closed my eyes, moving my chair back and forth, an image of the painting shoved out by a more delicious one of the mystery man from the conference. And of course, I wondered if he had a big, fat cock. My guess? Hell, yeah.

My thoughts continued drifting in several very sinful locations while I should be thinking of nothing but work. Well, it was already dark outside. Wasn’t I allowed a little playtime? A little relief?

The idea was decadent, even a little sinful. I glanced at the open door, reminding myself the blinds were all closed so no one could see in and the doors were locked. Plus, what I did in the privacy of my own home was my business. Mine. No one else.

With a subtle, throaty laugh, I stood. There was quite an evil smile on my face as I stripped off my tank top, tossing it aside. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of my thong, sliding the soft, silky material down my legs.

Without looking, I kicked them off, taking a scattered breath that sounded as if I was releasing pent-up air. Or fear. That was it. Fear. As if I wasn’t allowed to pleasure myself in my own home.

Well, fuck that.

The playlist I’d selected for working was far too mellow. I needed something wild and crazy, depicting the sinful way I felt. While shimmying my hips, I searched through all the playlists I’d created. One for every mood.

Wow. Would you look at that? I had one titled Tasty Seduction. Perfect.

As soon as the music started to play, I closed my eyes, doing nothing more than breathing while the first delicious drumbeats boomed against the subtle strings of the acoustic guitar. I certainly knew why I’d selected the first song.

I swayed my hips, taking several deep breaths while brushing my fingertips down the side of my neck. Tingling sensations popped across my skin, heat rising in the deepest part of me. I continued moving while crawling my fingers between my breasts. A slight giggle bubbled to the surface as I rolled the tip of my index finger around my right nipple.

Within seconds, it was rock hard and sensitive, so I moved to the other one, still undulating my hips. As if I was a talented dancer, which I used to be or so I’d thought, I moved around the corner of my desk. Even pretending as if there was an audience.

In tossing my hair from one side to the other, I fell more intrinsically into the music, the bass rumbling in my chest. Laughing, I could almost pretend I was being naughty in front of a crowd of famished, alpha men eager and willing to do anything to fulfill their needs.

The thing was I wouldn’t mind doing whatever it took to satisfy their fantasies. No matter how dark, how dangerous, or if I was required to surrender all of me.

I continued dancing, gyrating to every beat while flicking my finger across one nipple and pinching the other. The pain was delightful.

By the time I made it around the other side of the desk, I’d rubbed the flat of my hand down my stomach. When I dared open my eyes, I laughed since my vision was slightly cloudy. Yes, I certainly did need a nice hard cock to satisfy my own needs.

Patience. I’d need to learn patience.

The moment my fingertips reached my aching pussy, I was close to panting. For whatever crazy reason, my mind wandered through events of the day, picking them apart. Soon, I realized the moment was cleansing, freeing me of the day’s tensions and the mental clarity heightened the euphoria.

Suddenly, my legs were wobbly, incapable of holding me aloft any longer. I struggled to shift the chair just so, thumping down and immediately opening my legs as wide as the arms would allow. It was as if I’d exposed myself to the world. I pressed the balls of my feet against the floor, the way I was sitting completely naughty.

I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling while I rubbed just one finger down my pussy. Teasing myself as perhaps a man would do.

Only I wouldn’t know since I’d never had a man take the time to know what I needed. What I wanted. What I preferred. My laugh sounded bitter, but it wasn’t about being angry with the former men in my life.

It was about never letting myself fall for a dude. Ever again.