Was she really doing this? In her office, her professional sanctuary? Yes. Her bad-girl self wanted to come out and play again, and even though it felt dangerous, Monica wanted to walk on that fine edge. With Cal.

Her breasts felt full and achy. Her nipples strained against the red satin. “What would you do next?”

Cal knelt down before her. He slid his hands around to her bottom, where he kneaded her cheeks through the lightweight wool skirt. Gazing up at her, he leaned forward and nipped her naked waist.

He didn’t play nice, and she loved that. Monica sucked in a breath. “Watch it. I bite back.” Her jacket and shirt still dangled from her wrists, constraining her, keeping her from touching Cal—and she really needed to feel him right now. With jerking movements, she pulled at the cuff until she managed to shrug out of the restrictive clothes, dropping them to the floor. Using both hands to capture his head, Monica ran her fingers over his fine, short hair, sifting through the blonder strands.

Cal glanced up. “I look forward to it.”

She was so turned on, she could barely catch her breath. “What would you do next? If I let you fuck me here.”

“Well, next, I’d reach under your skirt.” He let go of her ass to gather the material in his fists, yanking it up, exposing her legs. He stopped and grinned when he saw her thigh highs. “Stockings. Miss Prim, you are full of surprises.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Cal lifted her skirt up past her panties. Satiny red panties. “Perhaps. And I’m amending the naked part. I’d let you leave on the stockings, because they’re sexy as hell.” Compliments from Cal, delivered in that husky voice, turned her into mush every time.

His fingers circled the border of the silky thigh highs. His hands were close, so close to her swollen clit. Just another two or three inches, and he’d be right there. “Touch me, Cal. Please?”

He grinned. “I will. Eventually.” When Cal’s tongue darted across her bare leg, near the top of her stockings, it put his face right in front of the triangle covering her pussy.

“Okay,” Monica said, “I surrender. The floor works. Yay for office sex.” Her knees trembled, and she started to lower herself to the carpet. But Cal held her up.

“No.” That one word locked her knees into place.

“What? I’m on board here. Clear off the credenza or something, and let’s go.” A few minutes ago, it had seemed out of the question. Now she was desperate for him, her body needy and ready for release.

“Who has sex on a credenza?” he asked.

He ran his hands along her outer thighs and wiggled his thumbs past the elastic and underneath her panties. Then he slid his middle finger against her slit. Oh yes. Restless, achy, Monica bit back a moan. Back and forth, his touch so light, so whisper soft, she had to fist his hair, using it as an anchor to keep her upright. Monica’s hips jutted forward.

“Take your skirt off.” Cal’s thumb circled her clit. It was swollen, pulsating, begging for his touch.

Without hesitation, Monica reached around and unzipped the back of her skirt. “That feels amazing. Don’t stop.” But he did. And very gently, Cal removed his hand from her pussy. When Monica groaned at the loss, he let out a small laugh and helped her wiggle out of her skirt until it landed in a heap at her feet. She also toed off the ugly black flats, until she wore nothing but her underwear.

“Now the bra,” he said.

She wasn’t going to hurry this part. He’d been teasing her, now it was his turn. Bowing backward, Monica thrust out her breasts. She grinned when every bit of his attention honed in on her tits. His lips parted slightly, and his green eyes darkened.

“This bra?” she asked. Gliding a finger along the lace-edged cup, she inclined her head to one side. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to wonder if this is a good idea after all. You haven’t told me where we’ll do it.”

Suddenly, Cal’s hands clamped on her hips. “I’ve been remiss, darling. I’ll spell it out in detail. After you’re naked.”

Although heat flooded her pussy, she pretended to think about it. “No, I need the details first.”

Cal’s jaw slid to one side, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her. “All right then, I’m going to spin you around to face that window. You’re going to press your hands against the glass, and I’m going to take you from behind.”

Monica’s eyes fluttered over his face. Cal was serious. She swallowed as she turned to look at the large, unadorned glass. Her office faced an empty parking lot and a darkened medical building.

She swung her head back to face him. “If we get any closer to the window, someone could actually see us. For real.” They’d be open to scrutiny. There may not be anyone in the other building, but she didn’t know that for sure. And if someone were up high enough, they would probably be able to see her right now, standing here in her underwear. Oh God, that shouldn’t make her heart thump in excitement. It shouldn’t make her pussy clench just imagining Cal standing behind her, pounding into her, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. But it did.

“All the windows in the building across the way are dark,” he said. “The chance that anyone will spot us is remote.”

“But possible. No, it’s too risky.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to her own ears.

“You’re shaking, and your knickers are soaking wet. It excites you, doesn’t it, that risk?”

She didn’t bother lying. “Yeah.” Monica wanted to go there. Dangerous sex with Cal—she could become addicted to this. Or she could get caught, and her life would be ruined. It almost seemed worth it, acting out this exhibitionist fantasy.

Cal said nothing, letting her make the call.

But it wasn’t much of a risk, not really. She hardly ever saw lights on after dark, and she worked late every night. “We could turn off the main light.” That was reasonable. A compromise—semipublic sex, but dark enough to provide some protection.

“No, I want to watch your reflection when you come. And, Monica”—he snagged her panties and pulled them down to her knees—“you will come. Hard.” He looked into her eyes as he continued removing the scrap of material from between her legs.

Her cunt throbbed in response. “Is that a guarantee?” She bent over and held on to his shoulder while she stepped out of her panties. He tossed them aside, and now she stood before him, her pussy bare, clad in nothing but sheer thigh highs and a screaming-red bra. Monica had never been this aroused. Calum Hughes knelt at her feet, his gaze so scorching, she felt the heat of it on her skin.

“It is.” Cal palmed her ass, his grin lilting a little higher. “Now take off the bra.”

“No. Not until you’re naked too.” He wasn’t the only one who wanted a show.

Cal released her, and while still on his knees, unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled it off his shoulders and down his tight, muscular arms, she got a glimpse of his tattoo. Celtic knots wove their way around each other, connecting to form a larger pattern.

Monica traced her finger along the ink work at the top of his shoulder, following the intricate loops as if they were a maze. She loved that tattoo. “Where did you get this?”

“Ireland.”

“Does it mean something?”

“Probably.” Cal rested his hands on her waist. “You’re wearing a bra and no knickers. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

When he kissed her stomach, Monica threaded her fingers through his hair once more. “You’re still wearing pants. They need to come off.”

Cal gracefully rose to his feet. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his socks before shucking out of the dark slacks. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Monica stared at his boxers. Navy blue. His hard cock strained the material. “I’m sure there is, if you put your mind to it.” She stepped toward him, close enough so her breasts brushed against his smooth chest. Tucking her finger inside the elastic waistband, she gazed up at him. “Time to lose these.”