Page 18 of Jacob

“You look fine.”She looks perfect.

I turn to unlock the elevator, then push my hands into my pockets and rearrange my cock so she can’t see how hard I am again. This is becoming ridiculous. I need relief, preferably now, but it’ll have to wait.

When the elevator doors open, I step in and hold the door for her.

She stands next to me. “I have a great idea for how we do this meeting today.” She seems more chipper this afternoon.

“I trust you,” I announce.

“I know you do. Oh…” She starts wriggling about. “That is itchy.”

“What’s up?” I hold my breath when she pulls up the side of her short skirt, revealing the taut skin of her outer thigh.

“I think I left the price tag on my skirt. I can’t reach it.” She turns her back to me. “Can you get it for me?”

Tentatively, I reach out to the top of her skirt.

“You’ll be better to go up rather than down.” She looks over her shoulder at me. Reaching around to demonstrate she can’t get her hand down the back of her waistband, she says, “It’s too tight.”

I clench my eyes shut to prevent myself from looking at her and move my hand under the fabric of her skirt. Not close enough to reach, I step closer. When the hem of the fabric touches my wrist, I stop as the enormity of how close I am to her ass dawns on me.

“Can you feel it?”

I wish I could, Butterfly.

“Not yet.” I push my hand further up her skirt and I stop breathing when my fingertips touch the bare skin of her round ass.

“Are you wearing a fucking thong?” I grit my teeth.

“Nope.”

“Are you not wearing anything at all? We are going to a business meeting.” My voice grows loud in the tiny space.

“No, silly.” She giggles. “See.” My eyes pop open because I need to know what she wants me to look at… although as soon as I do, I wish I hadn’t. She pulls her skirt up, giving me a full view of her beautiful smooth ass, and nestled there, between her cheeks, is a barely-there sliver of peach-colored string that leads to an equally thin waistband.

“It’s a G-string. Thongs have a triangle to the back and front. G-strings only have a triangle at the front.” She swivels on the balls of her feet to show me, but I grab on to her naked hips.

“Stop,” I demand as I press my front to her back, not even trying to hide my now hard cock, and growl in her ear, about to turn feral.

“Don’t fucking move.” I dig my fingertips into her hip bones. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but this ends now. I’ve warned you already.”

My mouth says one thing, while all I can think about is how much I want to rip her fucking clothes off.

She tilts her head back onto my shoulder, and one of her little space buns hooks around the back of my neck. Our eyes connect in the elevator’s mirrored walls.

As she arches her back, it forces her ass against my crotch, and I fight to stifle my moan.

“I said stop moving.” I’m surprised why my voice comes out sounding almost strangled.

I slide my fingertips across the swell of her little belly to hold her still, but it makes her squirm more.

I’ve dreamed about a moment like this. I’m so close to dipping my pointer finger into the tiny mesh triangle of her G-string and touching her. But my hands remain still.

Her hips tilt, as if she’s begging me for more.

But still, I resist.

With every rise and fall of her chest, all I can hear is ringing in my ears and the thumping of my heart as if it’s pounding out the conflict that’s raging in my body right now.

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