Yeah…. no… I can’t do that. Every single thing that could go wrong flashes before me.

He’s not interested.

He doesn’t have sex during the work day.

He’d think it was inappropriate.

He’s turned off by forward women.

Another dozen reasons pelt at me, knocking my confidence down even further. I’m not that type of girl. Even if I’d love nothing more than for Woolf Jennings to throw me down and pound the ever-loving breath out of me, I can’t ask for it. I’ll just have to wait.

Except…

I’m never going to stop being the Old Callie Hayes until I actually start trying to be the New Callie Hayes.

Leaning back in my chair, I look once more, completely confounded that I am obsessing about sex so much. I never thought about it constantly the way I am now.

Boots still crossed on his desk, complete silence meaning he’s immersed deep into something.

Oh, screw it. I need to take the New Callie out for a spin and see what she can really do.

I look down at the fitted but no-nonsense white button-up shirt I’m wearing paired with a simple black pencil skirt and black heels. The only thing sexy about it is the clothing molds to my frame well, but it’s totally unrevealing. So I solve that problem by unbuttoning two more buttons at the top and the material spreads beautifully so you can see my cleavage. My skirt has a small slit on the right side that only travels a few inches above my knee so it doesn’t reveal much when I’m walking. I take my scissors from the cup holder on my desk and use the slender, sharp end to pick at the stitching in the slit. I pop out several and pull the material apart, until it rises another three inches to mid-thigh. Because the material is so snug, if Woolf even bothers to look at me while I walk, he’ll see a good bit of leg now too.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up from my desk, run my fingers through my hair to fluff it, and then let all the air out, feeling empowered.

When I step into Woolf’s office and get a full view of him, he’s exactly as I imagined from the little bit I could see. He’s got his big leather chair leaned way back with his booted feet still crossed and resting on the edge of his desk. He has his laptop on his lap and his eyes are narrowed at the screen in concentration while he chews on his bottom lip.

He doesn’t look up at me so I take a moment to walk over to his credenza on the opposite wall and pick up the stack of folders he had been working on earlier. When he’s finished with stuff that needs to be filed away, he sits it there for me to pick up and handle.

And oops… as soon as I pick up the folders, they all seem to clumsily tumble from my hands to the floor. I squat down, keeping my knees primly together and making sure my right leg is facing Woolf. I can feel the air against my skin at just above mid-thigh where my skirt has split apart.

After I gather all the folders up, I take a peek over at him and find that he’s watching me. A tiny thrill rushes through my body as his eyes drop down to my leg. I slowly stand up, the folders grasped in one hand, and start walking toward his desk. Woolf’s eyes rise up and spend a few moments checking out the low dip in my blouse as I saunter his way. His lips curve upward in an appreciative smile.

When I reach the edge of his desk, I rest a hip against it and hug the folders to my stomach.

“What are you working on?” I ask, because while I had all kinds of courage strutting in here, I’m really not sure what to do right now. Normally, I would think the slit in the skirt and the peek of cleavage would have Woolf up and out of his chair, but he just gives me a lazy look.

“Just a bunch of boring shit about some oil wells we’re purchasing in Nebraska,” he says as he leans forward slightly and puts the laptop on his desk. He then leans back in his chair again, clasps his hands together, and rests them on his stomach. His boots on the desk haven’t budged an inch.

He just stares at me, amusement shining in his eyes. I stare back… unsure of what to do.

“Did you need something?” he asks me slyly, his eyes flicking down to my breasts and then back up to me again.

I can’t tell whether he’s encouraging me or not. I have no confidence to discern the difference, so I let Old Callie lead the way. “Um… no. I was just going to get your coffee cup and wash it out.”

I lean across his desk and grab the cup. Just as my fingers loop into the handle, his hand comes out so he can graze a finger along the back of my hand. My eyes slide over to him, and the amusement is gone. Now he’s looking at me with dead seriousness in his eyes. “You know, Callie… if you ever want anything from me, you never have to be afraid to ask.”

I swallow hard. It’s painfully clear now that he’s read me like a damn horny book. He knows why I came in here. He sees right through me, and he also knows I’m a chicken shit when it comes to follow through.

Woolf waits me out, giving me no other encouragement. Nibbling on my lower lip, I try to decide what to do. I truly didn’t have anything planned, figuring my cleavage and bare thigh would induce Woolf up and out of his chair. But it seems that Woolf wants to see how the battle of Old versus New Callie plays out.

He’s a patient man. I know he’ll sit here all day.

I release my hold on the cup and lay the folders on his desk. As I straighten up, I tap the back of my hand against his boots, encouraging him to put his feet down. He does without hesitation, placing them solidly on the wooden floor and then spreading them slightly. He leans back in his chair and watches me.

I gather up every bit of courage I have, tell myself I am one sexy woman and that no matter how awkward I might be, Woolf is going to enjoy anything I hand out to him.

Still, I can’t help the bit of nervousness in my voice when I step in between his legs and tell him as I look down at his face, “If it’s okay with you, I want to give you a blow—”

My words falter… stop dead in their tracks.

Stiffen that spine up, Callie. Go for what you want.

“I mean,” I say again with a stronger voice as I drop to my knees in front of him. “I’m going to suck your cock, Woolf Jennings, and I’m going to love every fucking drop you give me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he groans as he sits up straighter in his seat. His hand goes to his crotch, and he gives a slight rub to the bulge that is growing exponentially behind his fly. “That may be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

I can’t help but snort. “I think any man would think that was the hottest thing ever.”

A hand shoots out, and Woolf palms the side of my head, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. “No, that was the hottest thing because it came out of sweet Callie Hayes’ lips and because I’ve been fantasizing about you doing that to me since I was about twenty years old.”

“Really?” I ask in amazement, and I can’t help the actual goofy, love-struck tone to my voice. He’s been thinking about me like that for all this time?

“Really,” he says and then his other hand comes up behind my head. He reaches under my hair and then grips it in a ponytail to hold it out of the way. “Now what are you waiting for?”

All of a sudden, I don’t have a single doubt in my head. Giving head has never been that great of an experience for me, and I know it all boils down to the fact that I just don’t think I really cared if I pleasured Will. Things were so off… so unsure, that I just didn’t have this insane and overwhelming attraction to him. And because he was never focused on pleasuring me, I really didn’t care if I did it to him. The times I did were because we both might have been a bit tipsy and he begged me to do it, but otherwise… I just didn’t like it with him.

But with Woolf… I want to do this. I mean really, really want to do this to him. I think of all the ways he’s had his mouth on me, selflessly giving and giving and giving to me. My mouth waters as my hands come out and work at his belt buckle. He lifts his hips enough to let me open the fly and tug the thick denim down a bit, all the while he palms the side of my head with one hand and holds my hair in a ponytail at the back of my head with the other.