Smut, Spice and everything nice

Fucking Amber

Jack

Standing outside Amber's door, the weight of the files in my hand feels like nothing compared to the tension tightening in my chest. I can feel my heart thudding in my ears, a dull, persistent beat that matches the fluttering in my stomach. Amber is my boss—head of the department, the person who holds the power—and yet, standing here now, all I can think about is the growing attraction that I can't seem to suppress. I repeat to myself that this is strictly professional, a work matter, but the mantra falls flat against the raw, electrifying tension that clings to the air like a storm waiting to break.

Just as I muster the courage to knock, the door swings open, and I'm caught off guard, momentarily stunned. Amber stands before me, a vision of stunning beauty, exuding an effortless confidence that I've always admired—and envied. But today, there's something different about her, something that takes my breath away and leaves me frozen in place. She's dressed in what can only be described as a barely-there skirt that clings to her curves in all the right places, and a bikini top that showcases her sun-kissed skin in a way that feels both casual and utterly tantalizing. Her presence is like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and for a moment, I forget why I'm even here.

Amber's skin has a golden glow, the kind that speaks of lazy days spent in the sun, her body relaxed and content from basking in its warmth. I can't help but let my eyes travel over her, from the way her skirt hugs her hips to the generous swell of her breasts that are barely contained by the tiny scraps of fabric she calls a bikini top. It's wrong, I know it's wrong, but the sight of her is too much to resist, and I find myself captivated, my gaze lingering on every curve and dip of her body.

"Hey, Jackie" she greets me with a smile that could melt glaciers, her voice warm and inviting as she steps closer, closing the distance between us with an ease that only she possesses. Before I can react, before I can remember to keep my distance, she pulls me into a hug, and I'm engulfed in the scent of coconut and sunscreen, the fragrance wrapping around me like a warm, comforting blanket. There's something else too, something uniquely her, a scent that's subtle but undeniably present, and it fills my senses, making it hard to think of anything else.

"Hi, Amber," I manage to reply, though the words come out sounding strained, my voice betraying the turmoil that's raging within me. I try to focus on the reason I'm here, the files in my hand, the work that needs to be done, but it's impossible. Not when she's this close, not when her body is pressed against mine, warm and soft and everything I've ever wanted but knew I could never have.

Amber pulls back slightly, her smile lingering as she takes my hand and leads me into her living room. The sway of her hips is mesmerizing, and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the files rather than let them wander to the smooth, exposed skin of her back. The living room is bathed in soft, golden light, the kind that makes everything look warm and inviting, but all I can focus on is the woman in front of me, and the way her presence seems to fill the room with an almost palpable heat.

I sit down on the couch, placing the files on the table with a shaky hand, trying desperately to regain some semblance of professionalism. But it's a losing battle, especially when Amber, without a word, settles herself on my lap, her weight pressing down on me in a way that sends my pulse skyrocketing. There's no preamble, no warning, just the sudden, intoxicating reality of having her so close, her body warm and soft against mine, and all rational thought flies out the window.

Amber wiggles slightly, making herself more comfortable, and I can't stop the groan that escapes me. The feel of her, the warmth of her body, is overwhelming, and I'm painfully aware of how hard I've become, my arousal pressing against her in a way that's impossible to hide. She has to feel it, has to know what she's doing to me, but her expression remains casual, as if this is just another day, another meeting. But it's not. There's nothing normal about this, nothing professional about the way she's sitting on my lap, her hips shifting just enough to drive me wild.