“I think about fucking you over this desk,” he tells me roughly, nibbling on my earlobe as I shiver. “Or maybe mine. Every time I see you in one of these fucking skirts, making your ass look like a fucking gift—I think about inching it up over those pretty thighs of yours and filling you up.” He squeezes my ass for good measure, and an irrational urge to turn my face and press my mouth to his floods me, but I hold it back. Even if it’s something I can’t stop thinking about when he’s this close. “I could have you right now,” he rasps, pulling me closer to the throbbing heat between his legs
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