Free The Billionaire's Allure by Vivian Leigh Page A

stuff, if your idea of exciting is that special brand of legalese that can only be found in Washington.
    Thoughts of the dark-haired stranger plagued me all morning. At the top of every page I’d catch a glimpse of someone moving through the cubicles, and I’d think it was him, come to whisk me off for a night of fun. Or maybe his aide, ready to lead me to his office to become a personal assistant like all the mommy porn portrayed.
    By lunch time I had fantasized so much that I had an ache in my stomach that had nothing to do with food. I wished I were home in my favorite pajamas with Miles on the stereo and my magic wand at hand. Instead, I made my way to the ladies’ room and locked myself in a stall.
    It didn’t get much more romantic than the Adamson Aerospace ladies’ room. Cornflower blue walls, a random chair filling space in the corner, and a line of half a dozen stalls. The ones on either side of me were empty, and my pussy was pounding, so I eased up the hem of my skirt and slipped a hand to my slit. My fingers massaged my hard nub, then down into my wetness. My middle finger dipped into my channel, moving in and out, slick with my juices. It didn’t take long to have myself right up to the edge. The dark haired stranger flitted through my mind. I imagined how he’d take me. In the backseat of his limo. On a recliner in his private jet. Maybe bent over the rail of his yacht.
    I moaned and rubbed the heel of my hand across my clit. An orgasm’s soft escape flooded through me, releasing my tension and easing my need. I gave myself one last stroke, then cleaned myself up as best I could. I adjusted my panties and skirt back into place and flushed the toilet as cover.
    I thought a quick rubdown would help me concentrate, help me forget about the fantasies. All it did was make the rest of day stretch on at half speed. I couldn’t wait to get home to a glass of wine and a vibrator. The only thing that got me through the day was the knowledge that I could do myself all night if that’s what it took.
    ***
    The next morning, I hurried across the crowded ground floor of the building, dodging between women in high heels and men with briefcases. Sam, the old man at the security gate, smiled as I presented my identification.
    “You have a good day, Miss Wilson,” he said, as he passed back my badge.
    “Thanks Sam. You, too.” He buzzed me through the gate and I headed for the back stairwell. Should I take the elevator instead? I didn’t want the mysterious stranger to think I was some kind of stalker, but I didn’t know how I was going to get through another day of reading contracts without even a glimpse of him. I sighed. It wasn’t worth the risk, not after yesterday.
    I angled toward the elevator and the mass of people waiting in front of the doors. The doors groaned open and part of the mass shuffled into the cars, but it was a far smaller part than I had hoped. It would take at least two more loads before I could get on, and then I’d have to endure the ride up in a cattle car of perfume and hard edged briefcases. I turned for my stairwell instead.
    I was determined to stay focused. Charge right past him and pretend he’s not even there. My conscious mind knew what I should do, but I worried that I’d still look. Maybe a little glance wouldn’t hurt. Just enough to get his outline fresh in my mind. Maybe see what color tie he was wearing. I mounted the stairs at my normal, brisk pace and glanced out the window as I reached the second floor. The balcony was empty. Where is he? He’s never missed a day. Did I scare him off by staring too long?
    I slowed down and looked harder, searching for a newspaper or the remains of breakfast. As I was looking, a strong hand gripped my arm and spun me toward the wall. The sudden movement made me lose my balance. The hands lifted me up off my feet and pinned me chest first to the wall. My mind screamed with panic, but no sound escaped my lips.
    “I see you watching me