Get on the couch (2)

Get on the couch (2)
I do as I’m told, gladly. My legs were already trembling, and I feared I would fall if I kept standing before him.

The man doesn’t pounce on me immediately. He is deep in thought for a torturous amount of time, regarding me like a prey he has been saving for a while. I don’t know if he is going to devour me or play around for a while.

"Play with yourself," he orders.

The command catches me off guard. I lie back, my fingers trembling as they find their way underneath my skirt and into my panties. Being near him barely an hour ago got me aroused and longing, so it’s not a surprise when I find that I’m soaking wet.

I have pleasured myself before, but it’s a different feeling when Rhys is watching. I know he can’t see everything—my panties are in the way—but the bulge in his pants tells me this is enough. He stares at me hungrily, the lust in his eyes spurring me on.

I throw my head back, a low moan escaping from my mouth. I clasp a hand over my mouth, muffling any sounds in fear that someone may hear me outside the office. I thrust my fingers in and out of my pussy slowly at first, mimicking what he did before, then I pick up the rhythm as his stare intensifies.

My orgasm is close, and I’m on the verge of exploding but confused at the same time. I assumed he wanted me to play with myself for a short while before he fucked me. So far, he has done nothing but stare, even when it’s obvious he wants to join in on the action. His pants zipper is about to burst open from how hard he is.

I want to suck his cock as badly as I want my next breath. I imagine him, throbbing and pulsing in my mouth as he grabs my hair, guiding my head to whatever rhythm he wants. It’s enough to draw me so close to my orgasm that my hips are trembling.

"Stop," Rhys orders.

I find myself obeying him. My hand stops its movement. He gestures for me to get my hand out of my panties and I do.

"Get back to work," he demands.

I sit up, my brain still foggy. "I thought you were going to…"

"Let you come? That wouldn’t be much of a punishment, now would it?" For the first time, his voice is filled with humor.

I want to slap that smirk off his face. Does he enjoy teasing my body?

Who am I kidding? He probably gets off on it.

_____

My evil boss didn’t touch a strand of my hair even though I stayed late at the office. By the time I make it home, I have regained some of my brain cells that go inactive when I’m close to Rhys Redmond.

It’s best if he doesn’t touch me, after all. How can we put an end to this if we don’t stay away from each other?

We were not in any kind of relationship, but when I write my diary entry that night, it feels like I’ve been jilted. I strike through the whole entry, determined not to let him mar my sexy fantasies. Just because I stopped acting on these fantasies doesn’t mean I can’t write them.

This time, I’m writing from experience. When Rhys touches me in my fantasies, I feel his touch as though it were real, the scent of his skin when he embraces me so unadulterated that the lines between imagination and reality start to blur.

My mind flits back to how he found my diary that night. What would have happened if he never found out what was written in it? Would we be exactly as we were in the past, lusting for each other from afar?

Not every attraction should be acted on. The next time I fantasize about someone I shouldn’t, I will remember this.

_____

I am accompanying Rhys to meet a client today. I pick out my clothes carefully—a pair of loose-fitting cream pants and a black silk blouse with a neck scarf. If I’m going to put an end to any hanky-panky between me and Rhys, I have to ensure I don’t look seductive in the slightest.

My skirts aren’t made to be deliberately seductive either, but I figure pants send the message more clearly.

We are taking his car to the property for sale. As soon as Rhys sees me, he says, "This is an important client. Don’t screw it up."

Well, good morning to you too.

Someone must have pissed in his Cheerios. I don’t want to be the unlucky person who catches the bullet lying down, so I refrain from remarking on his particularly grumpy mood.

He didn’t notice my choice of attire.

Good.

Fine, the realization stings, even though this was the whole point. What do I want, exactly? It’s becoming impossible to tell.

I assumed Rhys would drive, but he sits in the back. I notice the man behind the wheel when he rolls down the window to wave at me. "Long time no see, Kira."

Shane.

It’s not been nearly long enough. I wave, forcing a smile as I stand there awkwardly, wondering where to sit. I’m trying to avoid being near Rhys, but I cannot survive a car ride next to Shane, either.

"What are you waiting for?" Rhys barks, and I realize he’s been waiting for me.

The back it is, then.

We sit in awkward silence save for Shane’s off-key singing. I’m clutching the folders in my hands for dear life, forcing myself to focus on anything that isn’t Rhys. The car smells like sandalwood and spice—much like him. It isn’t helping much.

I stare out the window until a hand lands gently on my lap. It’s a slight touch, but my body is quick to react to it like the flip of a switch. I peel it off with an embarrassed smile.

Rhys frowns in confusion.

My heart is on the verge of jumping out of my throat as I whisper the word I thought I would never use. "Pineapples."

Rhys blinks. It takes him a few moments to register the safe word.