Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 31: Damon

It has been two weeks since the false labor episode, and I'm still not over it.

Drew has been able to just shrug it off. I think getting the nursery set up, and our trip to the Finger Lakes helped. But me? Nope, I'm still a mess over it.

I wake up at least three or four times in the night to check on Drew. I spend most of my day wondering how she's feeling, if the baby is ok, to the point that I had Matt pull me aside yesterday and tell me to stop daydreaming. He didn't realize, of course, that I was drifting in meetings out of worry. He figured it was just new father excitement. But still, it's affecting me.

It feels like, at any moment, things could completely fall apart, and I'm the only one worried about it.

Maybe I should call Collin and talk it out? He probably has at least some advice for me on managing my anxiety. A therapist would probably be better.

Our car pulls up to the curb at work, breaking my train of thought. I get out before helping Drew down, guiding her across the busy sidewalk. We hold hands as we head inside. It's just before eight, so a massive crush of people is trying to get into the elevators. Before I know it, Drew and I are smashed into the back of the car, with Drew directly in front of me. The doors close, and I catch her eyes in the reflection.

Her wicked smile should have tipped me off.

I didn't realize she had evil intentions until I noticed her ass was pressed against my crotch. At first, I think it was just because there are a lot of people here, and I try to not feel it. But then she ever so slightly moves against me.

My eyes shoot to our reflection, and I see her raise an eyebrow and bite her bottom lip.

My hands go to grip her waist, to push her away or pull her closer, I don't know. She pushes back again, causing my quickly hardening dick to press between her ass cheeks. We have plenty of clothes on, I barely feel anything, but that doesn't matter. All of my blood has rushed to the lower part of my body.

I glance over her shoulder and see that her nipples are hard, and her telltale flush creeps up her neck. She's as turned on as I am. A quick glance around the elevator car tells me no one is paying attention. People are either half asleep or on their phones.

So, I let lust take over and subtly thrust back. Our movements are minuscule, barely visible to anyone watching but have us both breathing heavily.

Finally, finally, our floor arrives, and we push our way through. I keep my computer bag positioned in front of me for the short walk to my office. No need to have to explain that to anyone.

Drew looks cool as a cucumber as she goes to her desk, setting her own bag and coat down. She's right on my heels as I enter my office and quickly shuts the door behind us. "Couch, now," I growl, herding her across the room.

I'm on fire, and it's her fault.

I see the thrill of excitement flash through her eyes as she nearly runs to the piece of furniture. She kneels on the seat, arching her back so that her ass is at just the right height. Her hands go to the back of the couch for support.

We may or may not have done this before.

In my defense, it was always late at night, not eight in the morning.

My pulse is pounding as I step up behind her. She peeks at me from over her shoulder, a smile on her face. "You better hurry up, mister; we've got a call in fifteen."

"Oh, we do, do we? That's a shame since I have no intentions of going quick." She pouts, but it becomes a moan as I drag one finger up the back of her leg. I tease at the hem of her skirt but don't expose her just yet. Instead, my finger continues up over her fabric-covered leg to palm one cheek. I do the same with the other and give her a quick squeeze.

"Damon! We really do have a call, and it's not one we can be late to." I sigh because she's right. While I'd love to draw her pleasure out, we are technically on the clock. I roughly push up her skirt, exposing her panties. One swipe over the fabric tells me they're already soaked. If I know her half as well as I think I do, I'd bet our kid's college fund on her having an extra pair in her bag. Just for this.

I yank them down her legs, helping her shuck them completely. Then I'm plunging two fingers into her slick heat, savoring her responsive moan. She's so ready I could take less than a minute to finish her off with just these fingers. But my cock is weeping in my pants, and it's painful.

My belt clinks as I quickly undo it and free myself. I don't wait any longer; I line myself up and push in. She pushes back, helping me bottom out in record time. I pause for a moment and lean over her back, kissing that sweet spot between her shoulder blades.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Did you know that? I can't handle your beauty most days." She shakes her head as if she can't believe I'm saying it.

"Don't believe me?" I set a slow pace with shallow thrusts. She usually can't come in this position until I've added clitoral stimulation to the mix. And while we need to be quick, we don't need to be that quick.

"When I first saw you across that club, all I could see was how free you were. You laughed, and it lit up the fucking room. And even when you threw your drink in my face, all I could think was, fuck, that woman's fire burns so bright, I want it. But I lost you that night, made an ass of myself, and thought I'd lost my chance to know your light. Until you fell into my lap months later, still spitting mad. But fuck, your fire was so brilliant I didn't care. You still stun me every day, and I can't wait to see you teach our daughter that fire."

She keeps shaking her head, but I can't tell if it's because of what I'm saying or because she needs to get off. I pick up the pace, my hips snapping audibly. I feel my own orgasm begin to build, along with the words I know she isn't ready to hear yet.

So instead, I say, "I hate you."

I love you.

"I hate you more!" She cries.

"I hate you the most!"

I love you the most.

I reach around and seek out the button I know will set her off. With a few firm strokes, I feel her inner muscles begin to clench around me until she's shouting, "I hate you to infinity plus one!" as she comes.

Any onlooker would find our little routine absolutely bizarre, but I don't care. It's ours.

My hand returns to her hips, and I push myself just a little faster, chasing my orgasm. But today, it's just out of reach.

Sensing my struggle, I feel one of her hands connect with mine, interlacing my fingers. Her head turns again, and our gazes lock on. The feel of her hand in mine and the look on her face get me to the finish line, and I'm coming hard, calling her name.

I slump over her body, careful to put my weight on my free hand, using the back of the couch for support. I rest my forehead on the side of hers and just breathe her in. After a moment, she untangles our hands and brings hers to stroke the side of my face; I can't stop myself from leaning into her touch. I want to stay in this moment forever.

But work awaits.

Reluctantly, I pull out and use her abandoned panties to clean her up before helping her to stand. She's still flushed and maybe a little sweaty, but she's smiling.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom quick.Start the call without me." I smile and buss a kiss over her lips beforesending her on her way. A minute later, my phone rings. Time to snap out of my post-orgasmhigh, I guess.