Thank you Mel (Edgehead) for the awesome banner!So far, her boss had yet to catch on to the late hours she’d been keeping, and for that, Buffy was extremely grateful. She really didn’t want to have to explain why she couldn’t get everything done during her regular office hours, especially considering there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for it.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. There was an explanation, a reasonable one too, she just wasn’t sure her boss would buy it if she told it to him.
What would he say if he knew her every thought was filled with a sinful fantasy of sky blue eyes, sharp, angular cheekbones and soft, pouty lips that left a trail of warm moisture from one end of her body to the other? That the thought of hot, skilled hands traveling over her bare skin left her panting with the need for release and unable to focus on anything but the dream of total, sexual fulfillment?
Would he want details? Would he ask for a demonstration? Or would he fire her on the spot and accuse her of being some sick, twisted pervert that shouldn’t be allowed to work in a high-rise office building like his ever again?
If her boss were any other man, she’d bet on the latter, since the man that was filling her fantasies was his own brother. And twelve years her senior.
Liam *my boss. My. Boss. The man who can erase me from the corporate map forever.* had only been her boss a couple of weeks before subtly hinting he’d like for there to be more between them, but on the day she’d finally decided going out for a drink with him wouldn’t be all that bad, Spike popped by for a visit. Any thoughts of going out with Liam flew out of the window on the spot. As the days went by and Liam’s attempts to get in her panties only became more persistent, she was more thankful she’d never mentioned she’d been this close to giving in to him by the day. The fact that her and Liam’s offices were the only two located on the top floor made things even worse, as he didn’t fear anyone overhearing his blatant passes at her. *Imagine if I’d shown any interest… and oh my God, the wanting a demonstration thought? Ewwwww!!!* Yes, Liam would go for that, and that would be a world of no.
So she daydreamed the workdays away and worked the long hours, grumbling but still hoping for the off chance to catch a glimpse of his older brother’s yummy ass stretching those tight jeans he always wore, and trying to contain her drooling on the few times he made an appearance. He’d never said more to her than introduce himself and say, “’Ello, luv. Here to see the ponce,” every time after that, before heading to the big man’s office, but his body had a language of its own, calling her to it with every step he took away from her, asking her to lick it, ride it…
Realizing her eyes had lost focus at the thought of said body, she had an uncontrollable urge to bang her head on the desk, and uncontrollable urges couldn’t be resisted. Pushing the keyboard out of the way she let her head thump on the hard surface and curled her arms around it. *I’m so screwed*!
“Are you ok, pet?”
*No, NOW I’m screwed. And what is he doing here?* It wasn’t even noon, and Liam wasn’t in yet. Being top of the food chain let him come and go as he pleased. It didn’t hurt that his father owned the company whose L.A. branch he was directing either.
She chanced turning her head a bit to the side, towards the voice to the memory of which she’d cum countless nights and let out a groan when her suspicions were confirmed. He, Spike, was next to her desk looking at her with equal parts worry and amusement dancing in his brilliant blue eyes. She hid her face again, wishing him away, but she’d obviously already used up her wishing quota for the year because he moved behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders.
“Pet? Is something the matter?”
And that was it. She threw her head back, bumping the back of it against the hard planes of his stomach and – fire blazing in her eyes – said, “Yes, Mr. Pratt. Something is the matter. And if you don’t take your hands off me things are about to get worse.”
It was funny looking at him upside down as he looked at her, amusement gone from his eyes. She didn’t giggle as she wanted, though, because he asked her worriedly, “What happened? Is it Liam?”
For some reason his question pissed her off and loosened her tongue. “No, it’s not Liam. It’s you!” He seemed shell shocked, which made seeing his chin over his eyes even funnier, but she didn’t let herself be distracted. “And will you move? I’m straining my neck!”
He released her shoulders, holding his open palms up in a show of surrender as he moved to the side again and leaned against the edge of her desk on one hip, crossing his arms. “Me?” He raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck did I do?”
“You-” she bolted upright, sending her chair rolling backwards as she leaned towards him and poked him hard on the sternum, *ouch, hard, haaard sternum* “-show up here, with your… your tight jeans, and your swagger, and… and this grin… and—and you’ve got stupid hair!”
“Oi, m’ hair is not stupid!”
She glared at him for having only been bothered by that part of her rant, and because he was right. His hair wasn’t stupid. It was peroxide blond, slicked back with a hint of curl' at the ends, but he was the only thirty-eight year old man she knew who could pull it off! And that enraged her even more.
“It is. You’re too old for it. And this is a place of business, buddy. You can’t just show up whenever you want. Your brother isn’t here. And I have work to do. Work. Do you even know what that means?”
“Please enlighten me.” *Is he mocking me? He’s mocking me!* Of course he was, his head cocked to the side, eyebrow still high on his forehead while his tongue curled behind his front teeth.
“It means not being able to sneak up on people in the middle of the day, because you have responsibilities that keep you focused on something.” She glared harder, snappily retrieving her traitorous finger that had stopped poking him and was grazing a hint of a nipple evident under his t-shirt.
“An’ would you say that is the official definition?” he chuckled.
“You do not chuckle when I’m pissed off at you!” All sense of self control was lost and her hands started flailing, assaulting the body they wanted to caress.
His hands snaked out quick as lightening and grabbed her wrists, pulling her to him and bending forward so his lips were only inches away from hers, his eyes bewildered as he yelled, “What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?”
“You—you are what’s wrong.” She struggled to free her hands, her fingers reaching and grasping the fabric of his shirt, and he had to twist them and pin her against the desk to keep her still.
They were both panting as they strived to keep their balance and Buffy slipped, pulling him half on top of her as she leaned back onto the desk. That shift was enough for her to feel the bulge between his legs pushing into her hip and her irrational anger melted into the feeling from which it had stemmed. Desire.
In an effort to keep from crushing her he’d let go of one of her wrists to steady himself, planting his palm on the desk, by her waist. Her now free hand seized the opportunity to sneak its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair to push him towards her for a kiss.
*Yup, I’m screwed alright. Better make it count.*
She shimmied underneath him, spreading her legs as far as her skirt would allow, cursing the stupid thing for preventing her from wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and feeling that hardness where she wanted it the most. That’s when she realized he wasn’t kissing her back.
“Buffy, pet, you don’t want to…”
“I do,” she breathed against his mouth before the thought that maybe he didn’t want to registered. She pulled back to look into his eyes. “Unless you don’t…”
He shook his head hard. “I do, just want to tell you-” she cut him off, turning her focus back to his mouth to nibble on his lower lip and she could feel him strain with the effort to pull back again. “-somethin’,” he panted when he finally managed to speak again.
“Are you married?” she asked, her hands - both free now as he tried to keep her hips from rising to rub against him – running down his back and then moving to the hem of her skirt to pull it up.
“No,” he said as if the thought never occurred to him. “Not involved in any way, but-”
“Gay?” Her skirt bunched at the top of her thighs, she raised her hips enough to draw it around her waist before starting to fumble with his belt.
“Bloody hell, no!”
“Then I don’t care.” And she didn’t. Liam could walk in right then, hell the U.S. Army were more than welcome to, too, as long as they didn’t try to stop her from feeling the length of him she was trying to free inside her.
“Ah, sod it all.” He stood upright before she could protest, pushing her hands away to undo his belt on his own, popping the buttons of his jeans in one fluid motion. His cock jumped out, hard and proud against his taught stomach that was revealed for fractions of a second.
She looked at him and had to check her tongue to make sure it hadn’t rolled out of her mouth.
He wrapped his arms under her knees, raising them, and placed himself at her entrance. “Are you sure about this?”
She could only nod.
He didn’t push into her, instead pulled her against him, slowly impaling her on his cock and watching her face with such intensity she thought she would weep.
He suddenly froze half-buried inside and she whimpered, longing to feel all of him. “I—I didn’ think to…”
“What?” her voice was strained.
“Prepare you…”
He seemed almost bashful, and she couldn’t hold back a grin as she said, “I’ve been ready since you first walked through these doors.”
She could swear he growled at that, and then she couldn’t think any more as he shoved the rest of his shaft inside her, snaking his arms under her back till he could hold on to her shoulders, her legs draped over his upper arms. He plunged into her hard and fast and it was all she could do to hold on to him, her fingers finding their way up his shirt to scratch his back, her hips mirroring his fervent motions.
He kissed her as hard as he took her, claiming her mouth as his, and she melted against him, feeling a tension coil low in her belly as her mind screamed again and again a resounding YES at each of his thrusts. Yes, he was there. Yes, he wanted her. Yes, he was fucking her. Yes, she was close!
“Fuck, YES,” she cried out as his angle changed, rubbing against that spot inside her.
He straightened up a bit, making his thrusts shallower and slower and retrieving a hand to rub a pert nipple. “Play with yourself, kitten. I want to see you gettin’ yourself off. Want to see your little fingers rub your nubbin, feel you strangle my cock. Do it for me?”
Of course she would. She did. She ran two fingers along her slit, taking the time to graze the part of his body where it was immersed into hers before slowly circling her clit.
His eyes held the same intensity as when he first entered her, only now they were locked to the movement of her hand as his jaw clenched with self restraint. He adapted his rhythm to that of her fingers, adding to the white hot pressure inside her.
She began rubbing faster, pinching and rolling the swollen pearl and his pace picked up too, making her spine bow one final time when he ordered in a hoarse voice, “Cum for me, Buffy. Now.”
He didn’t have to ask again. Liquid pleasure burst through her veins as the tightness inside her exploded, making stars blossom before her eyes. “Kiss me,” she breathed out and his lips covered hers at once, as her body convulsed under him, limbs jerking.
He didn’t cease moving inside her, the thrusts of his hips becoming jerky, as he roared his release inside her mouth, obviously trying not to fall on top of her as his body tensed and then went lax.
She used the hand still at his back to press him to her, wanting his weight to reassure her that he was real, that she hadn’t dreamed the wonderful tryst, the mind-blowing sex, but he took her hand from where it lay limp between their bodies and brought her fingers to his mouth to lick them clean.
“Next time I’m tastin’ this straight from the source,” he said in a tone too serious for his words.
She looked up at him and let out a giggle.
“That funny for you, luv?”
“No, it’s not that… that wasn’t funny. It was more with the ‘yes please’, but-” she worried her lower lip.
“But…?”
“But I just had sex with my boss’ brother. On my desk.” She giggled again and he leered at her.
“You just had sex with your boss. On your desk.”
Her eyes widened, suddenly ripped of any mirth. “What?”
“Liam is goin’ to San Francisco, I’m takin’ over this branch. Tried tellin’ you, before…” He swooped in for a kiss but she averted her face.
“That—that means…” her voice broke and her words sounded eerily like a sob to her own ears.
He cupped her face and turned her to face him. His look was soft as he said, “Only thing it means is that we never have to worry about anyone walkin’ in on us.”
Round two took place on Liam’s former desk.