White Lies and Sweet Compromise( 𝐁𝐖𝐖𝐌💕)

Chapter 2

Deacon wanted to hold eye contact with the sultry specimen before him but for the past four years working with Wendy Preston he found himself doing the opposite of what he intended, and this was just one of those moments.

He gave his eyes what they wanted as he knew it was a battle he wanted to lose as it would give him pleasure to be the loser.

He let his eyes trail over the sheer silky white shirt she wore neatly tucked in a pencil skirt of red with white pinstripes that rested on her knees and showed shapely calves that trailed down to red stilettos whose heels seemed so thin they might break.

Her blouse with its flair mid-length sleeves and high neck that was held in place by a neat bow fascinated him just as much as the skirt that framed defined hips and round shapely buttocks. He spends so much time fantasizing about doing hedonistic things to her that he knows it is his ticket to hell, not that he cares.

He had no doubt he would be given a prison sentence if ever those fantasies should come to light.

He wondered what if he pulled that bow what it would reveal beneath. He let himself imagine supple breasts encased in a silky bra or one of lace that would give a tantalizing display of her nipples.

He often wondered if her nipples would be a shade darker or lighter than her cocoa-coloured skin. He had to forcefully tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of those very breasts as he was too fascinated by their mesenteric hold on him. He wanted to make so many discoveries about her.

He knew that any part of Wendy would send him into a primitive hedonistic onslaught of fantasies. He had often found himself only a millisecond away from making them a reality, if she only she had so much as hinted she found him desirable there would be no stopping him.

He licked his lips as his mind leapt with one such fantasy. He saw himself going to where she stood like a doe caught in blaring headlights and claiming those red lips that were slightly parted in shock in a hot wet kiss of dueling tongues and bruised lips. He wanted to leave an imprint on her to show everyone she was his.

Those lips would part in a sigh of pleasure when he released them to now nip those very nipples he thought so much about through her blouse and bra causing her to tremble with pleasure and budding desire. He would let her beg him for more as she laces her finger in the strands of his hair a presses her full breast into his mouth.

When he knew she could take no more he would spin her around bending her over her desk, hike up her skirt rip her pantyhose shift her thong---as a skirt like that requires only such undergarment or none, but he'll opt for a lace thong.

He would slap those firm full butt cheeks with enough force to send her fusing with pain and pleasure that would ripen her need and set her body ready for him when he plunges into the hot, sweet, and sopping-wet centre of her womanhood. He would fill her to the tilt letting his balls hit against her sensitive clit.

"Fuck," he breathes under his breath.

Why does he torture himself like this? He had too many cold showers, jerked off one time too many in his private bathroom, and taken too many substitutes to appease his need for his PA and none of it helped, if anything the need and desires intensified.

"Mr. Ffrench! I did not expect to see you here so soon today," she said regaining her composure and staring at him with her almond-shaped eyes the colour of rich golden honey. "Good morning, let me get your coffee."

He smiled and he saw her pause and falter in her attempt to stare at him. He watches as her face mirrors a look of disbelief as she takes in him smiling. He was one prone to smirks and harsh laughter but to smile like that knocks her bearly in check composure out the window.