Chapter 41 The Skirt
Gavin’s POV
I stared at the quarterly reports on my screen, the numbers blurring together into meaningless data.
My mind was elsewhere.On Melissa.
My mouth curved upward before I could stop it.
“Sir?”
I looked up. Marcus stood in the doorway, holding a stack of contracts, staring at me with an expression somewhere between confusion and concern.
“Yes?”
“Are you… smiling?”
I straightened in my chair, wiping the expression from my face. “I’m not.”
“You totally were.” Marcus stepped inside, setting the contracts on my desk. “I’ve worked for you for five years. I’ve seen you smile maybe three times. And never at financial reports.”
“Your point?”
“My point is…” He studied me carefully. “Are you okay? Should I be worried?”
“I’m fine.”
“Because the last time you smiled like that, you’d just destroyed someone comoany.And before that, it was when you fired that board member who tried to undermine you. So forgive me for being concerned when you’re sitting here grinning at spreadsheets.”
“I wasn’t grinning…”
The door opened.
And everything in my body went still.
Melissa walked in.
She wore a black pencil skirt that was more scandalous than professional. The white blouse was tucked in, emphasizing her waist. The top two buttons were undone, showing just enough skin to be distracting.
Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Sharp eyeliner. Red lips.
She looked devastating.
And she knew it.
Her eyes met mine across the room, and something passed between us. Heat. Challenge and promise..
“Morning,” she said, her voice casual.
“Morning.” The word came out rougher than intended.
Marcus glanced between us, his brow furrowing. “I’ll just… leave these here.” He tapped the contracts. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Marcus.” I didn’t look away from Melissa. “You can go.”
“Right. Yes. Going.” He backed toward the door, still looking confused. “I’ll be at my desk if you need…”
“Close the door.”
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“Close. The door.”
“Oh. Okay.” He stepped out, pulling it shut behind him.
The click of the lock echoed in the sudden silence.
Melissa stood by her desk, setting down her bag with deliberate slowness. “You woke up quite early. I thought we would leave together.”
“Did you.”
“Mmhmm.” She turned, leaning back against her desk. The skirt rode up slightly.
I was out of my chair before I consciously decided to move.
Three strides and I was in front of her.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t back away. Didn’t break eye contact.
“You wore it,” I said, my voice low.
“Of course I did.” Her lips curved into a smile. “You told me to.”
Something primal surged through me at those words. At the easy obedience. At the fact that she’d listened.
My hand found her hip, fingers digging into the fabric of that dangerously short skirt.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” I asked, pulling her closer.
“I have some idea.” Her hands came up to my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. “That’s kind of the point.”
I lifted her onto my desk.
She gasped as I stepped between her legs, the skirt riding up showing her soft curvy laps.
“Gavin…”
I cut her off with my mouth on hers.
She melted into me immediately, her arms wrapping around my neck, kissing me back with the same desperate hunger I felt.
I couldn’t get enough. The taste of her. The feel of her. The little sounds she made when I kissed her deeper.
My hands moved to her thighs, pushing the skirt even higher.
She broke the kiss, breathing hard.
I bit down gently on her collarbone. She arched against me with a soft moan.
“Good girl.”
Her eyes darkened at the praise. I filed that reaction away for later.
Her lips were swollen from my kisses, slick and red, her eyes glassy, her breath coming in soft, desperate little pants that made my cock ache.
She tilted her head, ponytail brushing her shoulder, and asked in that sweet, curious voice that always went straight to my groin.
“Why this skirt, Gavin? Why did you want me to wear it today?”
I let the corner of my mouth lift, in a half smile.
“Because I’ve been dreaming about doing this since the second I saw it on you.”
I stepped back just enough to reach the side table, opened the slim drawer, and pulled out the small velvet pouch I had left there the night before.
She watched me, brow furrowed, curiosity bright in those hazel eyes.
“What is that?”
I didn’t answer.
I dropped to my knees in front of her.Her breath hitched so sharply.I slid my hands up her smooth thighs, pushed the skirt all the way to her hips, and hooked my fingers in the thin lace of her panties.
“Lift,” I murmured.
She obeyed instantly, raising her hips so I could drag the lace down her legs and toss it aside.
I spread her open with my thumbs and just looked for a moment.
She was drenched, swollen, glistening, and so perfect.
A soft, needy sound escaped her throat, it sounded like a half whimper, half plea.
I leaned in and gave her pussy a slow deliberate lick.
Her entire body jerked; a tiny, adorable whimper spilled out, high and shocked.
Another lick, deeper this time, my tongue curling inside her, tasting how ready she was.
“G-Gavin…”
Another.
And another.
I kept going, slow, worshipful strokes, sucking gently on her clit, flicking it with the tip of my tongue until she rocked helplessly against my mouth, making the sweetest little noises, breathy, kitten-soft, broken. “Oh…mhmm Gavin.”
Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging, desperate.
I reached blindly for the velvet pouch, never breaking the rhythm of my tongue.
I pulled out the polished steel ball, no bigger than a large marble, attached to a thin silicone tail, and coated it in her slick heat.
She felt the cool metal nudge her entrance and froze.
“Gavin… what…”
“Shh. Trust me.”
I pressed it inside her gently, watching her face the entire time.
Her lips parted on a silent gasp as it slipped past the ring of muscle and settled deep inside her.
Her thighs clamped around my shoulders, trembling violently.
I gave her clit one final, soft kiss, then licked my lips, tasting her, and stood.
She panted, cheeks flushed crimson, staring at me like she couldn’t decide whether to beg or curse me.
I slid the tiny remote from my pocket and flicked it on with my thumb.
The steel ball inside her began to vibrate, low at first, a teasing hum.
Her eyes flew wide.
Then I turned it higher.
Her mouth fell open on a silent scream.
Her hands slapped to the desk, knuckles white, with her nails scraping the wood.
Her hips bucked involuntarily, a broken cry tearing from her throat.
Her thighs shook so hard I thought she might collapse.
Her back arched, breasts heaving, ponytail whipping as her head fell back.
“Oh God, Gavin…what are you… ahhh doing to..?”
Her voice cracked, turned into a high, keening whimper that shot straight to my cock.
I leaned in, brushed my lips against her ear, and whispered over the sound of her ragged breathing.
“That’s for wearing the skirt, amore mio. You’re going to sit at your desk all day with my toy buried inside you, and every time I press this button…”
I pushed it to the highest setting.
She jolted like she’d been electrocuted, a sharp, desperate cry ripping out of her, hips grinding against nothing, thighs clamping together as the pleasure crashed over her in waves.
Her eyes rolled back, tears of pure overwhelmed ecstasy spilling down her cheeks.
Her whole body shook with it and I let it run for five endless seconds, watching her fall apart, then eased it back to a low, torturous thrum.
She sagged against the desk, chest heaving, tears still slipping down her checks.
I kissed her once, tasting her tears and her pleasure.
Then I stepped back, adjusted my tie, and walked to the door.
“Meeting in ten minutes,” I said calmly. “Don’t be late.”
I left her there, with her skirt still bunched at her waist, and her thighs quivering, the remote burning a hole in my pocket.
And I smiled the entire way to the conference room.