Chapter 8: The Desk

Elliot touched a switch on his desk, and the glass walls frosted white.

He took his jacket off and laid it over the back of his chair.

He did it slowly, but his hands weren't quite steady.

"Tie too," I said.

He pulled the knot loose and dropped it on the blotter.

I let my coat fall to the floor.

Under it I wore a gray sweater and the jeans I had put on at six that morning, thinking only about a jade plant.

"Come here," I said.

He crossed the carpet in three steps.

I took him by the shirt front and kissed him, hard, with my back against the glass door.

He made a rough sound against my mouth.

His hands went to my hips and tightened.

"You've been thinking about this," I said against his lips.

"For four years."

"Then stop thinking."

He pulled my sweater over my head.

I tugged his shirt open and the buttons went on the carpet.

His chest was hot and hard under my palms, and his heart was slamming.

I pushed him backward until the edge of his desk caught him at the thighs.

"Sit," I said.

He sat on his own desk, among his own papers, and looked up at me with his mouth red and his eyes black.

I unhooked my bra and let it drop.

His hands came up to my breasts, and his thumbs found my nipples, and I gasped.

"Hallie."

"Don't talk."

I opened his belt and his zipper.

He was already hard against his trousers, thick and hot, and when I pulled him out he groaned and let his head fall back.

I wrapped my hand around his cock.

I stroked him from root to tip, slowly, and watched his stomach tighten.

"Fuck," he said. "Hallie, fuck."

"Is that what you sound like?" I said.

He laughed, breathless, and then his laugh turned into a moan when I thumbed the wet tip.

"Four years," I said. "You never once told me what you wanted."

"I want you on this desk."

"Then say it properly."

"I want to fuck you on this desk." His voice was raw. "I want to be inside you. I want to hear you say my name."

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