“How could you embarrass me like that? I’m not yours, Quincey. We’re nothing! I just work at your desk!” My belt hits the floor with a thud. Her eyes fall to my groin as I work on the fly and button of my slacks. Her chest is rising and falling, but one hand slides to her collarbone, the other to her hip. She’s angry, but she needs me. She fucking needs me the exact same way I need her. I know it. I feel it. “I could say the same for you, couldn’t I?”
