“No,” I tell her. “We just lock the outer office when we go. That’s not a problem, is it? If you’re chickening out-”
“Hold on there, cowboy,” she says.
“Cowboy?”
“I think we both know that I have nerves of steel, and besides, I’m wearing my favorite pair of underwear,” she says. “I wore it special for this very occasion.”
“You told me that you didn’t have a favorite pair of underwear,” I tell her, “although exactly how that ever came up in conversation, I’m havi
ng a hard time imagining.”
“You’ll see,” she says. “I think you’re going to like it.”
Grace comes over to me and sits on my desk. She scoots over so one leg is on one side of me, the other leg is on the other side.
She parts her knees and says, “Go on and take a look.”
I run my hands from her knees up her thighs, lifting the front of her skirt in the process.
She leans back, supporting herself with her hands behind her on the desk.
I kiss her thighs as I continue to pull her skirt up and, when I see her “special underwear,” I’m simultaneously amused and aroused.
“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I tell her.
“Shh…” she says. “They’re invisible.”
“You, my dear, are a dork.”
“Whatever,” she says. “Put your mouth on me and let’s get this party started. I didn’t come here to chat.”
“You’re really demanding,” I tell her, kissing her innermost thigh, close enough to tease her center. “It’s a turnoff.”
“You’ll get over it,” she breathes, and I put my arms around her butt as her legs come to rest over my shoulders.
Her scent is intoxicating as I work my way closer and closer to her pussy, and when I lay my tongue over the edge of her labia, her taste fills my senses just as strong as it ever has.
Our relationship is a strange one, but there’s not a thing I would change about it.
Okay, maybe I’d change the fact that I always seem to be risking my medical license being with her, but Grace is worth that possibility.
She takes a sharp breath in as my lips graze her clit.
I could go down on her for days.
Her fingers are running through my hair, and I’m kissing and licking her clit, her labia, and the curve of her upper thigh.
“You’re getting pretty good at that,” she says with a decadent moan.
“I love how you always pretend like I haven’t always been good at it.”
“We don’t have that much time,” she says, “and I want to come at least a couple of times before Yuri gets back here.”
At the Academy Awards, when someone’s giving too long a speech, they start playing music to let the winner know it’s time to wrap it up. That’s what Grace is doing right now to get me to stop talking and focus.
I’m fine with that.
She’s so warm against my tongue and my mouth, and when I slip a finger inside of her, I can hardly believe the heat of her.