Foreplay with the Boss: Billionaires of Boston

23. Kat

On second thought, wearing a bustier to work might not’ve been the best idea. It made it harder to bend, and taking deep breaths was a no-go. I didn’t only wear the bustier, of course—I wasn’t that bold. But I’d put it on underneath my work clothes, adding a jacket to downplay the way my cleavage practically reached my chin in this getup. I also felt a slight tug on the straps securing my thigh high black stockings with every move.

IswearifIwearthisalldayandhedoesn’tshowupattheoffice…

To say I was disappointed when Jameson called me to tell me his flight was canceled would be a huge understatement. He said he should be in the office by noon, though. I told him that I’d believe it when I saw it, but made sure to say it teasingly, since I could tell that he was as disappointed as I was. And hearing that disappointment gave me enough confidence to wear lingerie under my work clothes. Made me more confident all around. This way I could tease him a little throughout the day, and as soon as we got off work, we’d go to his place or my place and get off.

I glanced at my watch. 11:56.

I decided I needed coffee, but the pot in the kitchenette was empty again. Areyouserious?

Grumbling as I did it, I started the pot. Honestly, I was probably already keyed up enough without adding more caffeine to the mix.

Since I needed something to do to help expel all my frantic energy, I decided to go for a quick walk around the block. I gave Debra a heads-up and then rode the elevator down to the lobby. My heels clacked against the tile, and then the sidewalk as I stepped outside, and I fought the urge to pick the permanent wedgie my thong gave me, because it wasn’t like thongs—or heels for that matter—were made in the name of comfort.

I ended up grabbing a smoothie from one of the nearby vendors. I sat on a bench while I downed it, deciding it counted as lunch. Once I finished my drink, I tossed the cup in the recycling bin, and headed the block or so back to the office. I had just reached for the door to the building when a large hand came down on the frame, holding it shut.

My body recognized that hand and all the amazing things it could do to me. I glanced over my shoulder. A week was way too long to go without, and as I took in Jameson’s perfectly tailored suit, his strong jawline, and the heated gleam in his eyes, white- hot need streaked through me, sending my heart rate climbing.

Jameson’s cologne invaded my senses as he stepped closer, and I could feel his erection cradled against my ass. “I’m out of town for a few days and you take long leisurely breaks on my dime?”

I pushed back against him, a thrill going through me when he gripped the doorframe harder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. It won’t happen again.”

His fingers grazed my neck, and then he balled up my hair in his fist and gave a small tug. “Good. It better not, or we’ll have to have a private meeting in my office.”

Through my turned-on haze, I realized that our co-workers were coming across the lobby. I quickly turned, and Jameson seemed to understand that there’d been a shift, even if he didn’t know why. “We have company,” I said.

He straightened and pulled the door open for me. I took one last breath of fresh air and stepped into the lobby. My body screamed at me, annoyed I’d pulled away from the fun instead of taking it to the next level, and I tried to convince myself that I could wait a little while longer.

Jameson greeted his employees, his deep voice igniting another spark of desire.

Since I didn’t want it to look like I was waiting for him—even though I wanted to—I made my way to the elevator. My self-control had been shaky as it was, so it was better this way. I could go upstairs and cool off somehow, like maybe I could see if I fit into the fridge, and if that didn’t work, I’d just dump ice water over myself, because that wouldn’t make people think I’d gone crazy or anything.

Just as the doors were closing, Jameson stuck his arm in the way, making them pop back open. He stepped inside the elevator with me. “You can’t escape me that easily,” he said, advancing toward me like a predator who had decided on its next meal. “Not after all those phone calls. Did you like knowing how worked up you got me?”

I nodded. But then I noticed that we were halfway to our floor already and panic flooded in, taking a bite out of our fun. “You’re going to have to wait until the end of the day. Remember the rules? No touching at the office.”

He reached for me and I smacked his hand. Heat flared in his eyes and he walked me back against the wall.

“The doors are going to open,” I said, only it came out breathy, desire making a play at overtaking my panic.

“Show me your panties.” “We don’t have time.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m not leaving this elevator until I see them.”

My heart beat a million miles an hour as I reached for the hem of my skirt. I lifted it higher and higher, watching in satisfaction as Jameson’s jaw dropped.

The bing of the doors had me yanking down my skirt, and Jameson spun, doing his best to block me from view as they opened to reveal Debra and Rob.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Debra spun back to her desk, picked up a stack of notes, and handed them to Jameson. “Here are your urgent messages.” She reached for another pile. “And here are the non-urgent ones from the last few days that are probably reaching the urgent stage now.”

Jameson’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long breath, and I decided I’d have to find a way to cheer him up. But not till the end of the day, because no one would respect me if they caught me with my pants down—or skirt up, as it were.

Justafewmorehours…

I checked the time.

Ugh,makethatlikefiveorsixmorehours…

Jameson adjusted his tie, and I thought of how he’d bound my wrists the last time we had sex.

Ohshit,I’msoscrewed.

Actually,I’mnot,whichiswhyI’mconsideringbreakingallmyrulesandrequestingaprivatemeeting,stat.

Our moans would carry through the entire office, there’d be screaming of his name, and…and I really needed to stop thinking about it, or I was going to explode from sexual frustration.

Then I’d get to have a super classy line on my tombstone that read something like: Here lies Katrina Taylor, who died of horniness.