Guilty Pleasure by Jane O'Reilly Page B

living room floor,’ he says. ‘But that wasn’t quite right, either.’
    ‘No,’ I agree. ‘Too pedestrian.’
    ‘Quite,’ he says.
    ‘So what did you decide?’
    He looks away, smiles again, but this time it’s tense, not quite so easy. ‘Up against the window,’ he says.
    I look over at it. It’s a lovely wide thing, with a narrow ledge and a good view of the street beyond. There’s no doubt that the neighbours could see straight in, if they decided to look. I feel a kick of heat inside my body, the throb starting up again as arousal and desire curl up together in the pit of my stomach. I squirm a little, trying to relieve some of the ache. His mouth is so close. I let out a breath, take it back in again. All I have to do is move forward just a little, put my wet pussy on his mouth, and he would make me come, I know it.
    But I don’t.
    Instead, I push back, work my way down his long, lean body, exploring him with fingers and mouth and teeth. I work lower, lower, taste the arousal at the tip of his erection. I don’t linger there, even though I want to, because the window is calling to me. I get off the bed and walk slowly over to it, place my palms flat against the glass.
    Anyone could look up and see me. I lean forward, set a knee to the narrow ledge and turn my face to the side, pressing my naked breasts against it. The cold makes me gasp. The warm stroke of Ethan’s hands makes me close my eyes and tip back my head. He’s tender with me, careful, as he gently pushes me down onto my knees. I rest my arms on the ledge and stare out of the window at the world beyond, as he lifts my hips and puts me exactly where he wants me. I can see the people walking along the street outside, the cars slowly driving past, and yet we’re safe from them in here.
    And I realise that’s how he makes me feel. Safe. Even with all the things we’ve done, and the places we’ve done them, I was safe, because I was with him. I can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against the entrance to my body, and he eases his way forwards, filling me with one smooth stroke that has my back arching and my nails digging into my palms.
    ‘Tasha,’ he says. ‘You’re so very lovely. You know that, don’t you?’
    His hands slide over my back, warm and strong, as he fucks into me again, and I lift my hand and thump the glass. Below on the street, a woman walking past turns her head, but she doesn’t look up at me.
    ‘So lovely,’ he says, ‘and so very, very naughty. Tell me, just how much time did you spend masturbating in your office?’
    ‘Not much,’ I lie.
    ‘And how much is not much?’ he asks. He’s fucking me harder now, a deep, steady rhythm that has my entire body humming. ‘Once a month? Once a week? Once a day?’
    ‘Not every day,’ I manage. Oh god, he’s fucking me hard now, and his fingers are sliding lightly over the cleft between my bum cheeks. I wiggle my hips, trying to increase the pressure of his touch.
    His hand stills.
    ‘Most days,’ I admit.
    ‘Anywhere else in the building? Or just your office?’
    I bite my lip as he increases the pressure. ‘Just my office.’
    ‘You are welcome to use my office,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
    I can’t respond to that, I can’t. I shake my head and arch my back, needing him deeper, wanting him more. ‘Shut up and fuck me.’
    His hands meet my hips, holding me firm, as he angles his hips and does as I ask, fucking right into my g spot, making me moan. I bite my lip harder. I reach down between my legs and touch my clit, the pressure instantly sending me closer to climax.
    Ethan takes my wrist, pulls it to the small of my back and holds it there. I jam my other hand onto the ledge as his thrusts get harder, more desperate, each one pitching me forwards towards the glass. Each one has me crying out, unable to stop myself, and I know that the entire street can hear me, and it only turns me on more.
    ‘Dirty bitch,’ he says.
    ‘Yes. Yes, I