whole night having sex with her and deceiving her.
“Ms. Reynolds, the floor is yours,” Torres said beside her. His voice caressed her senses like satin sheets against naked skin.
She made the mistake of taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. His cologne teased her, male and refreshing, taking her mind back to the private cove where they’d first met. Think business , she said to herself. She loved her company. It was the one thing she could focus on to move past his effect on her. “Thank you.” Pulling herself together, she began her presentation, her voice smooth, professional and efficient.
Leaning forward, Torres began pressing buttons on the small console in front of them. The curtain pulled back across a large screen big enough to view a Hollywood movie. On point with her speech, the slideshow slid into focus and the lights dimmed slowly until everything else in the room was concealed in a deep gray shadow.
Foolishly, she began to relax in her chair, confident and secure in the darkness. The unexpected warm hand on her thigh, sliding further under her skirt stunned her. Her breath hitched in her throat. She flinched and accidentally pressed her thumb into a button on the remote, advancing the PowerPoint six frames.
When she’d left the house that morning in her chocolate and pink pinstriped shirt dress with its tea length, full skirt, she believed it was stylish and conservative. Now it just seemed useless.
“I think we need to cut down your caffeine intake or something, Delilah. I do believe that was one of the fastest slideshows we’ve ever given,” Darren called out with his normal jovial sense of humor.
Everyone in the room laughed.
Her own laugh sounded airy and false to her ears as she pressed her legs tighter together and arched her hips back in the seat in an attempt to avoid Torres’ questing hand. “Forgive me. I’m just trying to get used to the controller.”
“Managing it in the dark can be rather tricky. Let me show you how it’s done,” Torres cut in.
Before she could object, he moved closer. With one hand, he reset the slides and with the other, he used the advantage to execute dexterous movement and force her legs apart, insinuating his hand between her thighs.
“There, Ms. Reynolds. Now you’re all set to go.” His voice held a sexy intimacy as he made a production of settling back into his seat.
Short of her standing and screaming to everyone that his hand was under her skirt…more specifically, skirting along the edge of her panties, she was trapped. Forced to continue with her presentation. She employed every public speaking technique she’d been taught to keep her voice at an even pitch.
The fear of him soon discovering how wet she was caused her to seize his thick wrist with her free hand, a useless attempt to stop his digital perusal. He was stronger. Her hold on him was less retraining than a gnat trying to move a bull. A persistent bull.
After today, she would stop wearing thigh-high’s.
They both continued on their specified course. She informed the group and he persuaded her.
Nicholas' finger ventured beneath the seam of her panties and exposed her secret. She was wet. She discerned his reaction to her arousal by the low groan he gave, only loud enough for her alone to hear.
Her mouth may have been reciting the thoroughly prepared speech, but all the rest of her senses were directed between her legs, zooming in on the light strokes he gave her clitoris. He pulled back its protective hood and caressed it.
She tried to remain a non-participant, a bystander to the affair, but she couldn’t. Her body remembered all the things he had done to her over forty-eight hours ago and it wanted it again. No longer able to deny it, she recognized that she wanted it again. Her conscience flew out the window as his hand slipped down the length of her slick, aching lips and one thick finger entered her. Then two.
No consideration for how inappropriate their act was,