By Emily Karen
We sit together on the couch in the corner of our office. It’s velvet. A dark emerald, situated in front of a brass coffee table. Our company’s way of decorating cool to stay relevant and retain Millennial talent.
“What about this?” he asks, tilting his computer screen so I can see the presentation slide he is working on.
“That’s better. But… here.” I take his computer and re-write the title heading and hand the laptop back to him.
It’s 9:24pm and we’ve been prepping for this meeting since this afternoon. Everyone else in the office has long since left, so it’s just the two of us sitting side-by-side on the plush velvet.
I look back at my screen and focus on the one-pager I’m writing, very aware that out of the corner of my eye I can see his chest gently rising and falling as he breathes. As he taps away on his keyboard. Fuck.
I am turned on.
I can feel a warm sensation spreading between my legs. I’ve fantasized about this moment for months of working beside him and here we are, finally. Alone.
“Ok, check it now,” he asks. I slide closer — our thighs are touching now — and look at his screen again. It’s the same slide, he’s changed three words.
“Yeah… It’s not perfect, but I think we should move on,” I say. We make eye contact for a second too long. I don’t move back to my side of the couch.
“You’re probably right.”
I swear to god I can hear his heart beating. Or is that mine? I want him now. On this couch. Will having sex on it stain the velvet?
“What do you think of this?” I tilt back slightly to give him space to lean over me and look at my laptop. He slowly trails his fingers over the computer’s trackpad, flipping through the work I have open. I lean forward. “I think we should keep the subtitle fonts consistent throughout.” I slide my hand next to his to show him. He doesn’t move away and our hands are touching. So are our arms. And our thighs.
“I’m really glad we ended up on this project together,” he whispers. I nod my head and slowly he increases the pressure of his hand against mine. “I would be completely lost without your help.”
He’s right. He would. But something about it is endearing to me. There is something attractive about his genuine effort. His sincere appreciation.
I haven’t said anything and I am vividly aware that our hands, our arms, and our thighs are still touching. It feels as if the same warmth spreading between my legs is radiating from where we are physically connected. From where the skin on his forearm – just below his rolled up shirt sleeve – touches mine. I return the pressure against him and he lifts his hand off the computer and brings it ever-so-slowly to rest on top of where mine remains fused to the keyboard. He strokes his thumb across the back of my hand. I’m so fucking horny I don’t dare move a muscle. There is a live, red hot, electric current pulsing through my entire body and I begin to wonder whether he can actually see it. Like some orange glow of radiation beaming off of me.
Slowly, while he is watching, I close each tab on my computer. Then I close my laptop and place it on the coffee table.
I rotate my position on the couch to face him, curling my legs under me – my knees resting on the space along his thigh that my left leg has recently vacated. “Maybe we need a break.”
He nods. I hear him catch his breath as I reach across his lap. I laugh to myself — he didn’t think I was going to reach straight for his crotch did he? I close his computer and place it beside mine.
He gives me a little smile and leans back, draping his right arm across the back of the couch. I feel his fingers graze the back of my shoulder. I reach across his lap again and this time I bring my hand to rest on his left knee.
“You know I’m always happy to help.” It feels almost absurd to be carrying on a normal conversation. Inappropriate. As if he could somehow feel the warm wetness spreading in my underwear. Then again, maybe he should.
“It just makes it hard to concentrate when I’m this attracted to you.”
For all the flirting, all the leaning-overs and lingerings, all the brief grazings of skin-to-skin over the course of this project, he looks truly shocked. And that makes me laugh out loud.
“Relax, Carter – it’s nothing to be worried about.”
“No, it’s not that, I — ” Why is this so funny to me? I try to suppress another laugh as he stammers out the words.
“Jesus Christ, Jenny, it’s because I’ve been fantasizing about you saying those words for the past 6 months. You’re all I ever think about.” The laugh dies in my throat. I meet his eyes and the intensity in the gaze is almost overwhelming. As if the electric current in my body found another mode of connection to its destination and was hitting it with full force.
I don’t hesitate. I lean across him and brush my lips against his. It’s gentle at first. I lean back to look at him and a silent moment passes between us now that this invisible barrier has been crossed. There’s no going back now. I run my hands through his scalp and kiss him again, hard. I feel his soft lips, his tongue, working their way against mine. He places his hands around my waist and guides me. I respond eagerly, crawling into his lap so I am straddling him. Already, I can feel the bulge in his pants. He runs one hand up the length of my thigh, over my long dress. I kiss him with fervor, both of my hands in his hair, desperate for more of his on my body.
He runs his hands back down the length of my leg, this time slipping under the folds of my cotton dress. One hand is on my back, the other runs up the bare length of my leg, pausing at my hip. He flutters his fingers along my underwear line before gripping my ass and tilting me backwards.
I lie down on the couch as he pulls my dress up higher, looks at the grey thong underneath. His finger trails over my underwear and he realizes that I’m already wet.
“You are so sexy to me.” He breaths, making eye contact as he lowers his head between my legs. My back arches as he lets out a warm breath on my pussy. Oh my god. His tongue flicks me as he trails lazy circles on my inner thigh. One hand gently clasps my ass why the other runs the length of my right leg. He plays with my underwear again. Pulling the seam back, skimming his fingers just underneath, closer to my folds. He breaths again. Taking in my smells and driving me crazy with the warm blast of air.
“Take my underwear off.”
Two long fingers slip under the now-soaked cotton of my panties and trace the length of my slit. They’re glistening wet when he pulls them back. He lets out a growl and then tugs my underwear down. I help him slither it past my knees and off my ankles. He scoops both arms under my legs and buries his face deep in between thighs, flicking my clit with his tongue before licking the length of me. He explores every inch of me with his tongue, alternating between my clit, my folds, my insides. He fingers me with one, then two of his fingers as he continues to lap me up with his tongue. The sensation is driving me wild and I can feel my orgasm building. He seems to sense it too, quickening his pace as I let out a loud groan. The faster he pumps his fingers the harder he sucks and before I know it I’m crashing over the edge, every cell in my body exploding with heat and electricity.
I collapse on the couch, watching Carter lean back and slowly lick his two fingers that are no longer inside of me. I pull his head down to mine and kiss him full on the mouth, relishing the taste of us both.
This project just got a lot more interesting.
Emily is a feminist accountant who loves sharing her sex-positive stories with the world.