Free He Touches Me by Cynthia Sax

race.
    On some future night, after a long day at work, we’ll enter the elevator. I’ll remove my clothes slowly, teasing him, taunting him with my body, my small breasts and bare ass reflecting in the mirrors. Blaine will watch me from all angles, wanting me, needing me, unable to wait to have me.
    He’ll bend me over, his rough hands flattening on my back. I’ll grip the railing for support, the metal cool against my fingers, while he unzips his black dress pants, freeing his large cock.
    Blaine will nudge against my exposed pussy, his tip thick and hot. He’ll pull back and drive forward, burying his cock with one hard thrust.
    I part my lips, my breathing growing ragged as I fantasize.
    Skin will slap against skin as we rut like two wild animals. He’ll ride me hard, losing his renowned control, my ass and thighs heating. I’ll tilt my hips, taking him deeper and deeper.
    I toy with the buttons on my borrowed sweater, the garment too warm, too concealing.
    â€œAnna.” Blaine’s growl brings me back to the present. Want and need reflects in his brilliant green eyes.
    I gaze up at him, infused with a feminine power I only feel when I’m with him. “I was thinking of our future.” I lick my bottom lip.
    Blaine’s gaze tracks the movement. “Not here.” He leans closer and inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. I arch my back slightly, curving into him, into his enticing heat. His breath wafts on my neck.
    We remain locked in place, standing too close together to be mere employee and CEO. My breasts ache for his touch. My pussy pulses with desire.
    The elevator rings a warning and the doors open, breaking the sexual spell. Blaine exits first and I follow him. A sleek black limousine idles nearby, the windows dark.
    The driver, smartly dressed in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, and a black cap, opens one of the back doors. “Evening Mr. Blaine.” His brown eyes sparkle, the man young, handsome, his brown hair cut short. “Miss.”
    â€œTed.” Blaine gestures for me to enter first.
    I duck into the vehicle. The seats are shiny black leather and face each other. As there is room in the forward facing seat for both of us, I choose that one. Blaine disappointingly sits across from me, and the door shuts, the light dimming. I place my tote on the black carpet and glide my fingers over the seat. There aren’t any seat belts.
    There’s a jolt and then nothing, the only indication we’re moving being the arousing vibration under my ass. Blaine drapes the garment bag on the seat beside him and leans back in his seat, his gaze fixed on me, his green eyes smoldering.
    â€œHere,” he rumbles.
    â€œHere?” I glance at the partition between us and the driver. It has been lowered, the back of the man’s head visible. “He’ll see.” I unbutton my sweater, the thought of the driver watching our encounter exciting me.
    â€œI’m the only one you should be concerned about.” Blaine commands my full attention. “Take off your clothes, nymph.”
    The driver is a man Blaine has chosen. Blaine would never allow me to be harmed, to be seen by someone who could hurt me. My fingers tremble as I remove the sweater. Blaine’s eyelids partially lower, his eyes darkening.
    I remove the blouse quickly and toss it to the side, removing the temptation to cover myself again. Light reflects off the gold key dangling between my bra-­clad breasts. Does the driver notice? I raise my gaze to the partition. He hasn’t turned his head.
    I shimmy out of my oversized pants. Does he need to turn his head to watch me? I sit in the backseat of Blaine’s car in my bra and panties. Can the driver see me in his rearview mirror? I cup my small breasts. Does he like what he sees?
    â€œYou’re beautiful, Anna. Never doubt that,” Blaine drawls, reading my mind, a talent he has. My insecurities fade under the