No Controlling Legal Authority Ch. 03

He removed his hand from hers, tentatively, much like a falconer releasing his hunter for the first time, uncertain if it will fly away or return, and grunted with satisfaction when she made no move to take her hand away. He shifted slightly, spreading his legs to make room for her hand. She held him lightly, feeling him through his trousers, and wetted her lips indecisively. His knuckles scraped against her panties and her pulse quickened. He pressed lightly and she felt herself open and knew he could feel the heat of her growing desire. She was frozen in time; afraid to stop and afraid to proceed. She was caught astraddle the fence, a helpless captive of his burgeoning need and her own feckless resistance. His fingers brushed her again, more insistently; heavy pressure forcing the tissue-thin fabric into her, pressing against her blossoming wetness and she bit her lip.

Fingers of desire tightened their grip on her loins and she shivered. Her hand moved on him. Just a flutter, the single beat of a butterfly wing, and, at that moment, she became his. Her resolve crumbled, dissolving into the mists of her irresistible sexuality, and she leaned toward him. Her fingers curled and the sharp points of her nails traced the length of him under his pants. She felt him and measured the heft of him with her fingers. She followed the ridges and contours of his being with deft, skilled fingers and smiled seductively when he groaned for her. She followed him to his end and closed her hand about him. He gasped, and she rocked with the turmoil of her conflicts; one voice screaming in her head to stop, another telling her to make him feel good. Judgment and control shattered against the jagged rocks of her excitement, as she reacted to the throbbing under her fingers.

"Ohhhhhh," she sighed heavily when she felt him jerk excitedly.

He stood suddenly and pushed her back roughly for his need was great and insistent. She had denied him too readily, and he had longed for this moment for months. His urgency could tolerate no kindness, no consideration of her needs or desires. She looked up, into his face, questioningly, and he yanked his zipper down in her face.

"There, Miss Anne, I think you know what to do," he said. His voice was a harsh growl from deep in his throat. His voice was husky with desire for her, and his hands trembled with his excitement as he pulled his pockets and made his fly gape open. He stood still, right in her face, and she could smell the animal scent of his desire rising from the opening in his pants. His bulge rose stiffly within his pant leg and lifted the cloth into a low tent. She glimpsed a tiny stain spreading from the tip, and recognized it as proof of his need for her. She bit her lip and stared at the gap in his pants. Her hands quivered in midair, suspended on the threads of her conflicting uncertainties.

"Well, Miss Anne, either you want the job or you do not." Harshness flowed onto her like lava, and she cowered from the thunder of his voice. She shrank from her desire for an instant, while his words rolled past, then lifted her shoulders and closed her hands into fists. She put her fists on her thighs and breathed deeply, collecting herself. She shut her eyes, thinking, balancing, rationalizing and, then, blinking first, looked straight at him and tentatively reached toward his pants.

* * *

"Holy shit," Caleb muttered. He squirmed in his chair uncomfortably. The maintenance crew had shut off the heating system for the night, and his office had become unbearably stuffy. He had stripped off his tie ten pages into the story, and his vest, unbuttoned, hung loosely from his shoulders. His forehead was damp with perspiration. She was a hot one, this Anne whatever-your-name-is, he acknowledged in amazement, and, of course, he was deeply hooked, fascinated by her sensuality and vulnerability. He glanced toward the empty glass on his desk and wondered briefly where the contents had gone, because he had no recollection of finishing the drink. He toyed with the idea of pouring another, but his mind had become restless and pulled him back to the text before him.