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The little black notebook was right there on the corner of Dontae’s desk. Though it was a complete violation of her privacy, Parson picked it up without qualm. Day after day he watched her scribbling in the damn thing, tuning out the world around her. Okay, not the world, just him. Dontae Brooks fascinated him, incensed him, turned him on in a way that made it impossible to even try to think about any other woman. What was worse, she was oblivious to his plight. She rebuffed any effort he made to get to know her better, and they had worked in the same department for three long, tortuous years. Over the past fourteen months, three weeks and four days Parson hadn’t been moved to date, or even just hook up. His damn body rejected all but her. And she wouldn't give him the time of day.
The more often Parson attempted to get Dontae’s attention, the more she studiously ignored him. His jokes were met with a blank stare or a quizzical frown. Never so much as a shadow of a smile crossed her pouty, lightly glossed lips. Glossed in colors ranging from a deep pink to a dark plum; he’d categorized every one she wore. Inquiries of a personal nature such as “So, what did you do this weekend?” were never answered beyond a simple “Nothing much.” He would’ve just assumed Dontae was antisocial to the extreme, only he knew that wasn’t the case.
Everyone else in the IT Department received smiles, laughter, jokes, banter. Men, women, straight, gay and otherwise—Dontae was a friend to just about everyone. She listened to problems, offered advice, met for drinks after work, discussed religion, politics and entertainment. But for him? Nada; not one kind word, not one question, not much of anything. It rankled the hell out of him. Not just because of the blatant snubs either. Every single time he attempted a conversation, especially one just between the two of them, she blew it off as quickly as she could get away. The thought had occurred to him she might be scribbling about him. Maybe the reason for her extreme dislike was to be found in these pages.
Was it a journal? Most people wouldn’t keep something that personal at work, unguarded, if they were writing about those around them. Taking a quick look around the cubicle maze that made up their main office space, Parson flipped it open. Dontae was out on a trouble call to one of the departments with the most technology-challenged individual imaginable. She’d been gone for a while. Most of the cubicles were empty, so no one was around to run their mouths.
I never realized white men could have such full lips. Then again, before Parson I never took much notice. How long had I stared at his lips, imagining them on mine, imagining them feasting from between my legs? Those lips were just that juicy. Now there was no escape from them, not that I would want to. He took my mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, and I swayed on my feet as his mouth sucked away all my will. Who was I kidding? I let it go willingly. Yes, his kiss made me drunk, it turned my knees to water. It made me burn deep inside my womb and it caused my panties to become drenched with my need. As our tongues intertwined, our bodies rubbed against one another. The light friction was not nearly enough to satisfy. His kiss was melting my bones, turning me into a vessel of pure need. My clit throbbed against the flimsy silk of my panties. Strong, steady hands traveled down the curve of my spine in a slow, sensual swipe, ending at my buttocks, which he then cupped, pulling against the rigid proof of his arousal. My hips rocked reflexively. Thankfully I had worn a dress to work today, so I could feel the heated pulse of his cock through my panties. Unfortunately I was soaking into the fabric of his jeans. But I couldn’t stop! I needed him, wanted him so bad I would fall down on my knees and beg for it if I had to. I needed him inside me, invading me, pounding me. Without shame I
The little black notebook was right there on the corner of Dontae’s desk. Though it was a complete violation of her privacy, Parson picked it up without qualm. Day after day he watched her scribbling in the damn thing, tuning out the world around her. Okay, not the world, just him. Dontae Brooks fascinated him, incensed him, turned him on in a way that made it impossible to even try to think about any other woman. What was worse, she was oblivious to his plight. She rebuffed any effort he made to get to know her better, and they had worked in the same department for three long, tortuous years. Over the past fourteen months, three weeks and four days Parson hadn’t been moved to date, or even just hook up. His damn body rejected all but her. And she wouldn't give him the time of day.
The more often Parson attempted to get Dontae’s attention, the more she studiously ignored him. His jokes were met with a blank stare or a quizzical frown. Never so much as a shadow of a smile crossed her pouty, lightly glossed lips. Glossed in colors ranging from a deep pink to a dark plum; he’d categorized every one she wore. Inquiries of a personal nature such as “So, what did you do this weekend?” were never answered beyond a simple “Nothing much.” He would’ve just assumed Dontae was antisocial to the extreme, only he knew that wasn’t the case.
Everyone else in the IT Department received smiles, laughter, jokes, banter. Men, women, straight, gay and otherwise—Dontae was a friend to just about everyone. She listened to problems, offered advice, met for drinks after work, discussed religion, politics and entertainment. But for him? Nada; not one kind word, not one question, not much of anything. It rankled the hell out of him. Not just because of the blatant snubs either. Every single time he attempted a conversation, especially one just between the two of them, she blew it off as quickly as she could get away. The thought had occurred to him she might be scribbling about him. Maybe the reason for her extreme dislike was to be found in these pages.
Was it a journal? Most people wouldn’t keep something that personal at work, unguarded, if they were writing about those around them. Taking a quick look around the cubicle maze that made up their main office space, Parson flipped it open. Dontae was out on a trouble call to one of the departments with the most technology-challenged individual imaginable. She’d been gone for a while. Most of the cubicles were empty, so no one was around to run their mouths.
I never realized white men could have such full lips. Then again, before Parson I never took much notice. How long had I stared at his lips, imagining them on mine, imagining them feasting from between my legs? Those lips were just that juicy. Now there was no escape from them, not that I would want to. He took my mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, and I swayed on my feet as his mouth sucked away all my will. Who was I kidding? I let it go willingly. Yes, his kiss made me drunk, it turned my knees to water. It made me burn deep inside my womb and it caused my panties to become drenched with my need. As our tongues intertwined, our bodies rubbed against one another. The light friction was not nearly enough to satisfy. His kiss was melting my bones, turning me into a vessel of pure need. My clit throbbed against the flimsy silk of my panties. Strong, steady hands traveled down the curve of my spine in a slow, sensual swipe, ending at my buttocks, which he then cupped, pulling against the rigid proof of his arousal. My hips rocked reflexively. Thankfully I had worn a dress to work today, so I could feel the heated pulse of his cock through my panties. Unfortunately I was soaking into the fabric of his jeans. But I couldn’t stop! I needed him, wanted him so bad I would fall down on my knees and beg for it if I had to. I needed him inside me, invading me, pounding me. Without shame I
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