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“Aw, trouble in paradise, huh?”
The elevator dings, and the doors open, releasing me into the hallway. I stride forward quickly to put some distance between myself and Hannah. It was a little too tempting to snap back at her, but I don’t even know what I would’ve said.
No, he hasn’t broken up with me. I’m still screwing the boss, thanks.
No matter what I said, I’d have been playing right into her hands.
I keep my head down, going straight to my cubicle and getting right to work. If I look busy enough, nobody will bother me.
Besides, at this point, half of them probably know that I’m sleeping with Declan, thanks to Hannah’s determination to talk shit about me. Maybe they’ll understand if I’m not feeling particularly chatty today.
In the afternoon, I catch sight of Declan through the glass door of a conference room, in a meeting with legal. He’s resting his head in one hand, his posture slumped, clearly stressed and exhausted.
It makes my heart ache to see him like this. Usually, Declan looks so fit and ready for anything. I’ve never seen him look this tired before. He must’ve been up all night. There are veins standing out in his neck; he looks so tense that I can tell even from this distance.
I feel the sudden urge to do something for him. Whatever it takes to help take some of that weight off him.
An hour later, I stop by the printer to grab a couple of test sheets out of the tray, then head for Declan’s office. His secretary looks up as I approach.
“Do you have an appointment to see Mr. Wright?” she asks. “He’s quite busy at the moment.”
“Oh, I know.” I wave the papers in the air and lie, “He asked me to bring these to him.”
She sweeps a hand toward his door and turns back to her keyboard. She looks almost as stressed as he does; I imagine she’s been fielding calls and emails all day too.
Hopefully that means she won’t notice when I don’t come back out of his office right away.
I close the door behind myself. Declan looks up from his monitor as I enter, and I turn toward his desk, meeting his gaze. He has dark circles beneath his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I get on my hands and knees, crawling over to him. His eyes darken, sending a thrill through me. I can’t tell if he’s angry at me for breaking our rule about work boundaries or not. What I can tell, though, is that he doesn’t want me to stop.
“Goddamn, Spitfire,” he rasps. “You look so good on your knees for me.”
He scoots back from his desk a little, and when I reach him and palm his slacks, he’s rock hard already. I undo his belt quickly, my fingers slipping on the catch. His dick springs free, and I take a moment to stroke it, looking up at him.
Then, slowly, I press my lips to the tip. I work up the saliva to slide them around his shaft, my lips stretching as I take him into my mouth. It’s never been easier to appreciate just how big he is.
I work my mouth up and down his length, my tongue swirling at the tip as I draw back. He groans, one hand slipping below his desk, fingers twining into my hair.
I take that as an encouragement to keep going. I start to quicken my pace, unable to stifle my own sounds of arousal. I needed this—to be close to him. As close to him as I can physically manage.
“Fuck,” he whispers. He grips my hair tighter, allowing me to set my own pace, but ready to take control as needed. “Fuck, that’s good. You’re doing so well.”
I look up at him. He has his head leaned back, his eyes closed as he savors the feeling of my tongue just under the head of his cock.
“That’s right,” he breathes. “Just like that.”
His hand cups the back of my head, taking over the motion for me. He controls my movements, thrusting into my mouth. I let him use me, whimpering, turned on by the firmness of his grip. He’s in command now.
“Touch yourself,” he demands. “I know you want to.”
Immediately, I slip my hand beneath my skirt and into my panties. My fingers are instantly wet, and I slide them into my folds, letting out a quiet moan.
“Your lips are so soft,” Declan tells me, fucking into my face harder. “So warm.”
I make a muffled sound in reply, my mouth too full to coherently answer him. I can taste the salt of his precum; I swipe my tongue against the head of his cock, eager for more.
