different waters. Elliott was a deep-sea shark, forever circling, always grinning and never smiling. Simone, on the other hand, frolicked in sun-dappled shallows, and no matter how deep she dove, she never lost sight of the light. No, Elliott Anderson was never going to be for the likes of Simone Kahan, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in a good old-fashioned steamy fantasy now and again.
Especially when it was unfolding right in front of her like her very own NetPorn video. Simone let her thighs fall apart a little bit, feeling the silk of her panties press against her. Shifting in her chair, she tugged her skirt a little higher, feeling the whisper of cool air on her inner thighs. Tickle, tickle, a phantom touch, teasing. She let her fingers trace along the soft skin as she watched Elliott pull up the blonde’s skirt and do the same to her.
He didn’t stop when the hem of the blonde’s dress hit her upper thighs. He kept going, exposing bare flesh. No panties. Simone grinned and shook her head. That woman had known what she was in for, all right, and Simone didn’t blame her one bit. If she was going on a date with Elliott, she probably wouldn’t have bothered with panties either.
Simone let her touch drift over the silk, thinking about slipping her fingers inside. All the times she’d watched Elliott fucking some blonde in his office, yet she’d never yet indulged in touching herself while she did it. That she saved for her bed at home, or for a phone call to Aidan, who was always willing to come over and help a girl out with her sexual frustration. When her fingertips pressed gently on the bud of her clit, she couldn’t help but let out a long, low sigh. Still, something stopped her. Maybe the idea that someone in another office might be watching her get herself off while she watched someone else. Maybe just the fact that teasing herself always felt better than giving in right away.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. At this time on a Friday night, Aidan would already be out. She could try his cell phone, but there was no guarantee he’d hear it ring or even feel it buzz with a message. Maybe he’d call her at two in the morning, drunk and horny, and maybe she could wait for him, but what if he didn’t call? Slowly, Simone rubbed gentle fingers against herself as she mused, her gaze going back to the scene in Elliott’s office—and then she let the chair tilt forward with a thump.
In the few seconds she hadn’t been paying attention, Elliott had turned the blonde so that her hands were flat on the desk, her dress pulled up to expose her tanned, yoga-tight ass. But that wasn’t what had caught Simone’s attention. Oh, no. What had pulled her breath out of her like a magician yanking scarves from his sleeve was the sight of the red handprint on the blonde’s taut butt.
It was Elliott’s handprint, and as Simone watched, he slapped the other buttock and left another rapidly pinkening print. At this one, however, the blonde turned, anger painted all over her face. Her dress fell down her thighs, and she shoved him, finger waving in his face. Elliott, held up his hands, looking not angry or perplexed, but sort of amused. This humor seemed to set the blonde into a further fury, and she shoved him.
At this, Simone let out a gasp and Elliott’s expression turned dark. He caught the blonde’s wrist before she could slap him across the face. Simone’s breath caught, her heart pounding, the ache between her thighs growing solid and thick. His fingers easily encircled the blonde’s wrist. A grip like that could hurt worse than a silly little spank.
A grip like that could bruise.
Elliott let go of the blonde’s wrist and stepped away, out of reach, and put his hands up again. His mouth worked, and he shook his head, then made a gesture toward the door. He still wasn’t angry until the woman went after him again, this time with the pinwheeling, out-of-control fists of someone who clearly
Especially when it was unfolding right in front of her like her very own NetPorn video. Simone let her thighs fall apart a little bit, feeling the silk of her panties press against her. Shifting in her chair, she tugged her skirt a little higher, feeling the whisper of cool air on her inner thighs. Tickle, tickle, a phantom touch, teasing. She let her fingers trace along the soft skin as she watched Elliott pull up the blonde’s skirt and do the same to her.
He didn’t stop when the hem of the blonde’s dress hit her upper thighs. He kept going, exposing bare flesh. No panties. Simone grinned and shook her head. That woman had known what she was in for, all right, and Simone didn’t blame her one bit. If she was going on a date with Elliott, she probably wouldn’t have bothered with panties either.
Simone let her touch drift over the silk, thinking about slipping her fingers inside. All the times she’d watched Elliott fucking some blonde in his office, yet she’d never yet indulged in touching herself while she did it. That she saved for her bed at home, or for a phone call to Aidan, who was always willing to come over and help a girl out with her sexual frustration. When her fingertips pressed gently on the bud of her clit, she couldn’t help but let out a long, low sigh. Still, something stopped her. Maybe the idea that someone in another office might be watching her get herself off while she watched someone else. Maybe just the fact that teasing herself always felt better than giving in right away.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. At this time on a Friday night, Aidan would already be out. She could try his cell phone, but there was no guarantee he’d hear it ring or even feel it buzz with a message. Maybe he’d call her at two in the morning, drunk and horny, and maybe she could wait for him, but what if he didn’t call? Slowly, Simone rubbed gentle fingers against herself as she mused, her gaze going back to the scene in Elliott’s office—and then she let the chair tilt forward with a thump.
In the few seconds she hadn’t been paying attention, Elliott had turned the blonde so that her hands were flat on the desk, her dress pulled up to expose her tanned, yoga-tight ass. But that wasn’t what had caught Simone’s attention. Oh, no. What had pulled her breath out of her like a magician yanking scarves from his sleeve was the sight of the red handprint on the blonde’s taut butt.
It was Elliott’s handprint, and as Simone watched, he slapped the other buttock and left another rapidly pinkening print. At this one, however, the blonde turned, anger painted all over her face. Her dress fell down her thighs, and she shoved him, finger waving in his face. Elliott, held up his hands, looking not angry or perplexed, but sort of amused. This humor seemed to set the blonde into a further fury, and she shoved him.
At this, Simone let out a gasp and Elliott’s expression turned dark. He caught the blonde’s wrist before she could slap him across the face. Simone’s breath caught, her heart pounding, the ache between her thighs growing solid and thick. His fingers easily encircled the blonde’s wrist. A grip like that could hurt worse than a silly little spank.
A grip like that could bruise.
Elliott let go of the blonde’s wrist and stepped away, out of reach, and put his hands up again. His mouth worked, and he shook his head, then made a gesture toward the door. He still wasn’t angry until the woman went after him again, this time with the pinwheeling, out-of-control fists of someone who clearly
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