Be professional, Grace, I chant to myself.
“However, you don’t seem like the type of man who exactly needs a business loan from a small credit union like Citizens.” I state the obvious because the man is filthy rich.
The small-town rumor mill has me educated on the guy. I know he’s thirty-two and was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. And my brief interview about his financial history had revealed that he acquired a large inheritance when his parents passed. Needless to say, his pockets aren’t exactly empty.
He showed up on a brand new luxury motorcycle to prove it.
“One thing I learned in my time as a SEAL is that everything isn’t what it seems, Grace. Can I call you Grace?” he asks belatedly.
My mind is too muddled to care. A military man. Wetness pours from my core as I fold my legs again.
“Anyway,” he continues leaning toward me. “I retired a couple years ago and I’ve been managing my money on my own ever since. I don’t tend to trust banks. But people get suspicious when you start paying cash for everything. Which is why I need you. I need to open a line of credit to establish trust and further expand my brand.”
Very thorough indeed. I bet he learned that as a SEAL as well.
I am nodding before I even knew what is happening. The man just told me he retired at the age of thirty. I’m envious and awed simultaneously.
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Wilcox. Citizens Credit union is devoted to providing our members with quality service and care. Just give me a couple of days and I’ll see what I can do,” I promise, plucking a business card from my desk.
When he grabs the card, his calloused fingers graze mine and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. If he’s affected in the same way, his gorgeous face doesn’t betray a thing.
As I stand, the stickiness in my panties reminds me of just how slippery things have gotten down south. I will definitely need to change my panties as soon as he vacates the premises.
“Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Wilcox?” I ask in a voice I hope isn’t too shaky. The last thing I need is for him to know just how horny he’s made me during this meeting.
“Jameson,” he says, reestablishing our eye contact.
“I’m sorry?” My words are barely a whisper as I take in his attire. He’s wearing all black. The dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and fitted to showcase his powerful biceps. The slacks fall over his long legs, the hem brushing the tops of expensive leather shoes.
“I want you to call me Jameson. If we’re going to work together, we should be familiar. Wouldn’t you agree, Grace?”
He finally stands, a fresh whiff of his heady scent assaulting my senses all over again. I would honestly agree to anything he said at the moment.
I gulp and nod as he stands there, patiently awaiting my reply.
“Please let me walk you out, Jameson.”
As we reach the credit union ’s front lobby, Jameson turns to me with a disarming smile, his perfect white teeth on display.
“I’ll be seeing you, Grace.”
Although I know it’s strictly business on his end, I still relish in what sounds like a sinful promise.
I push out a loud breath as I finally re-enter my office. Closing the door, I walk on shaky legs back to my desk and nearly collapse against the corner of it.
Did the man know he was a walking wet dream?
Too frustrated to work, I journey back to the door and slide the lock in place.
With an urgency I can’t explain, I reach down and remove the sopping panties before taking a seat behind my mahogany desk. Reclining in my over-sized office chair, I lift one leg to rest my foot against the edge of the desk.
As moments from our meeting replay in my head, I decide in that instant that my lunch break will be postponed until my fingers attempt to strum away the tension at my aching center.
I sigh as my fingers make contact, my pointer and middle fingers slipping around the slick button that is my clitoris. My head lolls back enjoying the intoxicating sensations that ripple through my middle.
My fingers inch further south as I summon images of Jameson sitting across from me with that penetrating gaze and that cocky smile. Then I imagine those rough fingers teasing my sensitive nub and a moan escapes me at the erogenous thought.
I continue to rub circles around my clit while I dip a finger into the welcoming warmth of my hole. The penetration is a delightful addition that has me grinding my hips upwards as I imagine Jameson thrusting into me with enough momentum to shake me to my core.
And then I’m coming as I pant my client’s name, the wetness of my release coating my fingers as my shoulders relax and momentary satisfaction covers me.