‘No,’ he says, his voice a little hoarser. ‘Not today.’
‘What would you do if someone did walk in?’ I ask him. ‘If someone came in here, right now, and caught you, what would you do?’
‘I’d probably come all over the desk,’ he admits. He closes his eyes, as if he’s imagining it.
‘I’d like to see that,’ I tell him. ‘I’d like to see you come all over the desk.’ I settle myself back into my seat, cross my legs, hot, excited, turned on.
And then Ethan says something I don’t expect. From the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he expected it either. ‘Marry me, Tasha.’
‘What?’
‘Marry me,’ he says, and his hand starts to work faster, and he’s flushed and smiling, and I realise that he means it.
‘But….’
‘I’m not going to come until you give me an answer.’
‘We haven’t even talked about it,’ I point out, as the idea begins to take hold inside me, as I look up at this wonderful, beautiful man, someone who views me as a woman and yet doesn’t think I’m any the less for it. Who likes me wholly as I am, who loves me. ‘Don’t you want to talk about it?’
‘No,’ he says. He’s pumping faster now, faster, and I can see how much he needs to come, how much effort it’s taking for him to hold back. I want to see him orgasm almost as much as I want to put him out of his misery, but he’s asking so much. ‘Ethan, what are you doing?’
‘Something I’ve been too afraid to do for a very long time,’ he says, his voice harsh. ‘Call it an experiment, if you will. Please, Tasha. Just answer the question. Don’t make me think about it. Don’t make me think about all the ways I’m not right for you otherwise I might bloody well lose my nerve.’
He’s on the edge now, I can see it, as I lean forward in my chair, as I try to persuade myself I don’t know what the answer is, only I do, and I’m just torturing him now. I let him suffer for a few more seconds, a few more, for my pleasure and for his.
And then I give him my answer. ‘Yes,’ I say. One little word, so short, so easy. One little word that can change everything. Those water-blue eyes go wide, and he tries to smile at me, only his climax is on him now, gripping him hard as he squeezes his stiff cock in a steely fist and spatters the top of the desk with come, white in contrast to polished black. We stay where we are, breathing too fast, not speaking, barely able to comprehend what we’ve just done.
And then I hear the sound of the front door opening, and voices, one confident and male, the other soft, unsure, female. ‘Shit,’ I whisper. I open my bag and grab a packet of tissues and clean up the desk as Ethan fastens his trousers and shoves his hands through his hair, trying to make himself look presentable. I toss the tissues in the bin, take out my perfume and spray it around. Then Ethan looks at me, and I stop. I stop trying to hide who we are, what we’ve done. I don’t need to do that, not any more. ‘I’m so glad you caught me,’ I say.
‘It was my pleasure,’ he says.
‘I know,’ I tell him.
And I don’t feel guilty at all.
If you enjoyed Guilty Pleasure, don’t miss Jane O’Reilly’s The Pleasure Principle, out now!
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ISBN: 978-1-474-02829-5
Guilty Pleasure
Copyright © 2015 Jane O’Reilly
Published in Great Britain (2015)
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