Little Black Book (sWet) by Shara Azod Page A

writhed against him, grinding desperately as the hands on my ass assisted my rocking rhythm.
    “I’m going to fuck you, Dontae,” he growled in my ear before biting along the collar of my neck. “Fuck you without mercy. And then I am going to make love to you, slowly.” Breaking away from my heated flesh, he fixed me with a stare I couldn't break. “Tell me you understand, Dontae.”
    “Yes,” I breathed, so very close to my first orgasm.
    “Yes, what?” His hands stilled my hips, causing me to whimper. I didn’t understand. It must have shown on my face because he pressed. “Say my name. Prove to me you know who is talking to you, who will be taking you.”
    “Yes, Parson.”
    God, those eyes! The hot hazel gaze burned me alive with their intensity. He could ask me damn near anything and I was so spellbound by the way he looked at me, I just might do it. Here, in the tiny equipment room where they kept obsolete spare parts, I was about to be taken, just like he declared, without any shame.
    “Please, Parson, I need you.” Forget pride, she had wanted him for far too long to let a little thing like that to get in the way. “Please fuck me.”
     
    Holy shit! Rubbing his eyes, Parson re-read the passage he’d flipped to, just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Maybe he wanted her so much that he’d transposed his own private fantasies to the page. No, that really was his name written in that fancy handwriting of hers. Hands shaking with a mixture of disbelief and some emotion he hadn’t yet defined, Parson found it was all similar. Stories about the two of them in various little hidey holes around their workplace. A couple public scenes too. The words leapt off the pages to surround him with possibilities that left him thunderstruck.
    The writings stroked his cock like a physical being, stealing caution and common sense from his brain with every word he read. This wasn’t the Dontae he thought he knew. The one that smiled sweetly and spoke softly....to every fucking person in this damn place but him, that was. The conservatively dressed woman who tried to hide her woman’s body never uttered a bad word that he could remember. A deep russet blush crept up her cheeks whenever a subject was brought up that was the least bit risqué. That woman wrote this? And it featured him ?
    Suddenly the steadfast refusal to allow him to get to know her better made more sense. While it was a greater relief than he cared to admit to learn that she didn't hate him, it just pissed him off that he hadn't had the foggiest idea that she might want him. How many damn hours had he wasted sitting in his cubicle looking her direction, mentally stripping her out of those shirts buttoned to her neck or those pants that swallowed her figure? How many times had he been forced to excuse himself to go to the bathroom because he had stared at her bountiful ass a little too long? He’d itched to see that luxurious figure he knew was buried under all those layers of clothing she wore. He’d obsessed over what kind of panties she might wear, if she had any panties at all. Did she shave or wax? Did she like to be on top or on the bottom, or maybe mounted from behind?
    The woman had driven him half out of his mind, and not just because she wouldn't talk to him. He’d been attracted from the very beginning. The reason it had upset him so much that she had never responded was because he wanted her. Craved her. And all this time she’d been hiding an equal attraction. While he was pining, she was fantasizing, leaving him out in the cold. That ended here and now. No way was he going to ignore this. Not with the way he wanted her. There’d be no more hiding for sweet little Dontae. They were about to get real acquainted—and that was just the beginning.

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    Dontae rounded the corner, muttering under her breath about giving complicated equipment to the technically challenged, then came to a dead stop. Her