Personal assistant

You have no idea

Impatiently, I sat on the leather couch, glass in hand staring at the bedroom door. She was on call with Matt and Katya about the success of the trial, and left me alone with only the movie for company. She'd done it so as not to disturb me, but I wanted her so badly. My desire was scorching, unbearable, a heat so intense it was tropical. The alcohol didn't help, adding a searing fluster to the tremor inside me, banging at the walls to escape. The door handle dipped, and she walked back in, phone by her side.

Kiss me.

I licked my lips, they felt dryer than the Atacama, only she could quench my thirst. As she sat down next to me, the promise of drowning in her became a tantalising mirage, I would have begged on my knees for it if she asked.

KISS ME.

She knew what she was doing. I clocked that flare of a smirk, how could she sit there staring at the mundane television with so much control knowing I was burning up with a sky-high fever inside. She turned to look at me, feigning innocence as I narrowed my eyes at her. One of her eyebrows raised in question, or perhaps more welcomed, a challenge. 

Fuck it.

Glass smacked down on the table, my fingers flew for the buttons on her shirt, greed dewing from them. She barely responded, simply observing my vehement manner as I kissed her, chuckling low against my lips.

"Patience is a virtue," she tested lightly, breath tickling my ear, her hands still resting tauntingly beside her as I attacked her neck with kisses.

"I haven't got any." My voice poured out as a desperate whimper, more frustrated than I realised, and at last, both Sofia and the energy in the room shifted.

"That's hot."

She finally gave me permission to her touch, every spot she felt left behind sparks, her lips swelled with each indulgent breath. 

"No, you're hot," I divulged between kisses, her body nuanced to the pent-up atmosphere.

 "And I'm overheating," I finished, reaching for the zipper on her pants as she balked, clutching my hand tightly. 

"Ah ah," she tutted at my impatience, and I frowned critically, lips parted in frustration. A cunning glint ricocheted off her pupils.

"Sit," she commanded, and expectantly crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for me to do as I was told. I straddled her, locking lips again, settling into her lap, and suddenly stopped. Something was blocking me, and I met her eyes again, quizzical. She flashed me her pearly white teeth as she grinned through lean eyes, looking at me like a lion would stalk a gazelle.

"The way I want," she said simply, and my pupils blew wide at her echoed words from after I took her in that office at Dragon's lair. Again, she impishly smiled wider, shining those canines as her hands finally pulled down the zipper on her pants, though now I felt nervous.

"You have no idea," she continued, mirroring our previous conversation even further. I looked down, and my eyes widened at the sight.

Christ.

I'd never experienced anything like this before, I was usually quite vanilla with sex. The irony was not lost on me - her signature scent was vanilla, and yet she was the opposite of such. I was a seasoned lover, but not much of an explorer, mainly because I'd never found sex boring. I had skill, never any complaints, so focused on refinement rather than experimentation. She'd sensed my apprehension, and her body language alleviated.

"Do you... have any idea?" 

Miss Bardot's eyes held no judgment, only curiosity. I thought for a moment, then responded with a swift head shake, looking into my lap self-consciously.