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Mr. Calendar Chapter Nine - Entreat
Please note: (18+) This story includes adult content that may not be suitable for younger readers.》
I look away from him, my eyes going to a spot on the wall that looks recently plastered. It's the size of a fist and I've seen plenty of holes in walls that look similar.
"Give me the night," he asks. "Let me tell you what I couldn't the last time I saw you."
"You can explain now," I suggest, looking back into his dark carmel brown eyes.
He shakes his head. "Not here. Not... like this," he says, looking down at himself for a second.
"Are you embarrassed?" I ask, feeling the grip he has on the back of my neck, and... I like that he's still touching me, still cradled between my thighs, and I don't actually want him to leave.
His eyes fall to my lips, his tongue making a quick appearance as he wets his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth, and then letting it out. I don't know why that gesture looks so sexy on him, but I fight the urge to move, to keep my breathing as normal as I can with my heart racing in my chest as he says, "You'll learn there is very little that can embarrass me."
His hooded gaze lifts to mine and he swallows. I drop my eyes to his thick neck, his prominent adams apple bobbing before he asks, "Will you give me a few minutes?"
I nod, hearing myself say, "Alright."
He smiles then and I know it's real because it's the only time I see that dimple in his left cheek appear. My stomach flutters. I could always tell when he was being nice or when he was truly genuine whenever he smiled from that little detail. "I'll be right back and then we'll go wherever you want. My place, yours, it doesn't matter as long as you feel comfortable."
His place? Mine?
He runs his thumb along my jaw and steps back, releasing me to pull at his jeans. I sit, watching him, my eyes lingering on his muscled frame as he does that thing guys do to discretely adjust themselves, and then he's out the door.
I suck in a deep breath as the door clicks shut, the band around my chest easing even as my entire being shakes from the rush of sexual tension. He's an inferno to my ice queen persona, lighting me up from the inside out until I'm nothing more than a malleable mess of raging hormones.
I rub my arms, feeling the coolness of the room settle around me as I slowly try to calm my nerves. Glancing around, I don't see anything overly personal about him. No pictures on his desk or hanging on the dark gray walls. Infact, his desk is clear of everything except a closed laptop sitting on the corner, an empty ashtray, and a short glass with a swallow of amber liquid at the bottom. There isn't even a phone lying anywhere I can see.
I run my hands over my thighs, looking down to see my dress no longer covers what it's supposed to. My navy blue underwear on display and I slip off the desk. My heels sink deep into the plush black carpet and I adjust my...
I look away from him, my eyes going to a spot on the wall that looks recently plastered. It's the size of a fist and I've seen plenty of holes in walls that look similar.
"Give me the night," he asks. "Let me tell you what I couldn't the last time I saw you."
"You can explain now," I suggest, looking back into his dark carmel brown eyes.
He shakes his head. "Not here. Not... like this," he says, looking down at himself for a second.
"Are you embarrassed?" I ask, feeling the grip he has on the back of my neck, and... I like that he's still touching me, still cradled between my thighs, and I don't actually want him to leave.
His eyes fall to my lips, his tongue making a quick appearance as he wets his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth, and then letting it out. I don't know why that gesture looks so sexy on him, but I fight the urge to move, to keep my breathing as normal as I can with my heart racing in my chest as he says, "You'll learn there is very little that can embarrass me."
His hooded gaze lifts to mine and he swallows. I drop my eyes to his thick neck, his prominent adams apple bobbing before he asks, "Will you give me a few minutes?"
I nod, hearing myself say, "Alright."
He smiles then and I know it's real because it's the only time I see that dimple in his left cheek appear. My stomach flutters. I could always tell when he was being nice or when he was truly genuine whenever he smiled from that little detail. "I'll be right back and then we'll go wherever you want. My place, yours, it doesn't matter as long as you feel comfortable."
His place? Mine?
He runs his thumb along my jaw and steps back, releasing me to pull at his jeans. I sit, watching him, my eyes lingering on his muscled frame as he does that thing guys do to discretely adjust themselves, and then he's out the door.
I suck in a deep breath as the door clicks shut, the band around my chest easing even as my entire being shakes from the rush of sexual tension. He's an inferno to my ice queen persona, lighting me up from the inside out until I'm nothing more than a malleable mess of raging hormones.
I rub my arms, feeling the coolness of the room settle around me as I slowly try to calm my nerves. Glancing around, I don't see anything overly personal about him. No pictures on his desk or hanging on the dark gray walls. Infact, his desk is clear of everything except a closed laptop sitting on the corner, an empty ashtray, and a short glass with a swallow of amber liquid at the bottom. There isn't even a phone lying anywhere I can see.
I run my hands over my thighs, looking down to see my dress no longer covers what it's supposed to. My navy blue underwear on display and I slip off the desk. My heels sink deep into the plush black carpet and I adjust my...
