left the first couple of buttons open, keeping it
within the realms of office-appropriate while still giving someone like him, a few
inches taller than me, a good view.
Looking at him again, I said, “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, you didn"t disappoint.” He traced his lower lip with the tip of his finger,
and if I hadn"t already been turned on beyond reason, that asymmetrical grin would
have done the job. “You didn"t disappoint at all.” The same finger gestured at my
blouse before returning to his lip. “Unbutton the next two.”
Once I"d done so, he nodded with approval.
“I like it just like that. So I can see some, but not all.” His lips curved into that
devilish grin that was rapidly becoming familiar. “Leaves my imagination to fill in
the rest.”
“You"ve seen the rest,” I said.
“Not with that bra, I haven"t. Red lace looks good on you, by the way.” He put
his foot down and sat back, folding his hands over his belt buckle. “Come a little
closer.”
I did, stopping when our knees nearly touched. He gestured at my foot and
beckoned with two fingers, so I put my foot on the chair beside him.
“Oh, now I like that.” He ran the backs of his fingers down my shin. Looking
up at me through his lashes, he said, “Nylons are so much sexier than fishnets.”
“Are they?”
Damaged Goods
33
“Very much so.” The flimsy layer of nylon created a whisper-thin barrier, a soft
wall between us, rationing unhindered contact to only the rarest rendezvous
between his flesh and mine. “So much easier to feel what"s underneath.”
He put his hand on my knee and let it slide down my calf. Trailing a fingertip
along the thin leather strap over my ankle, he teased my skin until goose bumps
rose beneath my stockings.
His other hand started on the inside of my ankle, drifting up the back of my
calf to my knee. Then his fingertips slid along the underside of my thigh to the top
of my stockings, and when skin met skin, I gasped and nearly pulled away, but his
other hand kept a firm grasp on my ankle.
He looked up. “Something wrong?”
“No.” I licked my lips. “Not at all.”
“I didn"t think so.” He ran his fingers back and forth along the border between
flesh and fabric.
Then he continued higher. His fingers found my pussy, and he looked up at me
with a devilish grin. “No panties. Very nice.”
“I had a feeling you"d—” I gasped when one fingertip made a light circle
around my clit.
“You had a feeling, what?”
“That you"d—” One finger slipped inside me. “That you"d like—” Two fingers.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Tsk-tsk. I expected you to be so
much more articulate with your clients, Ms. Rhodes.”
Oh, Jesus, I loved the way he said my name.
“I usually am,” I said. “But my…clients… They don"t…”
He crooked his fingers slightly, removing my ability to speak and very nearly
doing the same to my ability to stand. “They don"t what?”
“They…”
His thumb brushed over my clit. Then, eyes locked right on mine, he
whispered, “They don"t usually have their fingers in your tight, wet cunt?”
I whimpered and somehow, heaven knows how, managed to murmur, “No,
they don"t.”
Sliding his fingers a little deeper, he said, “What a pity for them.” He gave a
quiet laugh that was nearly as dirty as everything he"d said thus far. “And for you,
I"m guessing. You"ve been thinking about this all day, haven"t you?”
No point in denying it, not when his fingers moved so easily inside me.
“Yes,” I said. “I have.”
“And I"ll bet,” he said, teasing my clit with his thumb, “you"ve been thinking up
all different things for us to do during this little „meeting." Am I right?”
Guilty. As. Charged. “Oh, yeah.”
34
Lauren Gallagher
“Maybe you"ve been thinking about me fucking you over your desk.” He was
almost whispering. “Tell me, did you imagine me laying you across it on your
within the realms of office-appropriate while still giving someone like him, a few
inches taller than me, a good view.
Looking at him again, I said, “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, you didn"t disappoint.” He traced his lower lip with the tip of his finger,
and if I hadn"t already been turned on beyond reason, that asymmetrical grin would
have done the job. “You didn"t disappoint at all.” The same finger gestured at my
blouse before returning to his lip. “Unbutton the next two.”
Once I"d done so, he nodded with approval.
“I like it just like that. So I can see some, but not all.” His lips curved into that
devilish grin that was rapidly becoming familiar. “Leaves my imagination to fill in
the rest.”
“You"ve seen the rest,” I said.
“Not with that bra, I haven"t. Red lace looks good on you, by the way.” He put
his foot down and sat back, folding his hands over his belt buckle. “Come a little
closer.”
I did, stopping when our knees nearly touched. He gestured at my foot and
beckoned with two fingers, so I put my foot on the chair beside him.
“Oh, now I like that.” He ran the backs of his fingers down my shin. Looking
up at me through his lashes, he said, “Nylons are so much sexier than fishnets.”
“Are they?”
Damaged Goods
33
“Very much so.” The flimsy layer of nylon created a whisper-thin barrier, a soft
wall between us, rationing unhindered contact to only the rarest rendezvous
between his flesh and mine. “So much easier to feel what"s underneath.”
He put his hand on my knee and let it slide down my calf. Trailing a fingertip
along the thin leather strap over my ankle, he teased my skin until goose bumps
rose beneath my stockings.
His other hand started on the inside of my ankle, drifting up the back of my
calf to my knee. Then his fingertips slid along the underside of my thigh to the top
of my stockings, and when skin met skin, I gasped and nearly pulled away, but his
other hand kept a firm grasp on my ankle.
He looked up. “Something wrong?”
“No.” I licked my lips. “Not at all.”
“I didn"t think so.” He ran his fingers back and forth along the border between
flesh and fabric.
Then he continued higher. His fingers found my pussy, and he looked up at me
with a devilish grin. “No panties. Very nice.”
“I had a feeling you"d—” I gasped when one fingertip made a light circle
around my clit.
“You had a feeling, what?”
“That you"d—” One finger slipped inside me. “That you"d like—” Two fingers.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Tsk-tsk. I expected you to be so
much more articulate with your clients, Ms. Rhodes.”
Oh, Jesus, I loved the way he said my name.
“I usually am,” I said. “But my…clients… They don"t…”
He crooked his fingers slightly, removing my ability to speak and very nearly
doing the same to my ability to stand. “They don"t what?”
“They…”
His thumb brushed over my clit. Then, eyes locked right on mine, he
whispered, “They don"t usually have their fingers in your tight, wet cunt?”
I whimpered and somehow, heaven knows how, managed to murmur, “No,
they don"t.”
Sliding his fingers a little deeper, he said, “What a pity for them.” He gave a
quiet laugh that was nearly as dirty as everything he"d said thus far. “And for you,
I"m guessing. You"ve been thinking about this all day, haven"t you?”
No point in denying it, not when his fingers moved so easily inside me.
“Yes,” I said. “I have.”
“And I"ll bet,” he said, teasing my clit with his thumb, “you"ve been thinking up
all different things for us to do during this little „meeting." Am I right?”
Guilty. As. Charged. “Oh, yeah.”
34
Lauren Gallagher
“Maybe you"ve been thinking about me fucking you over your desk.” He was
almost whispering. “Tell me, did you imagine me laying you across it on your
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