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1047 Words
The office was dark except for the city lights pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quiet. Empty. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.
But Rayne was still there.
She sat at Khalil's desk, heels dangling off the edge, blouse unbuttoned just enough to threaten trouble. She was reviewing the last draft of a pitch, phone in one hand, wine in the other, trying to act like she didn't hear him approaching from behind.
"You always make yourself comfortable in my s**t," Khalil's voice came low, teasing.
"I run your s**t," Rayne replied, not looking up. "You just collect the checks."
He chuckled, his steps getting slower the closer he got.
"Funny. You run it, but I sign off on everything."
"'Cause your name's on the building," she said, flipping a page. "Not 'cause you're the brains."
He stepped around to the front of the desk, between her legs. Close.
"But I am the hands," he said, voice deep and heavy now. "And the mouth..."
He dipped his head, brushing his lips along her neck. Soft. Warm. Intentional.
Rayne inhaled, just a little-but enough for him to feel it.
"Don't start," she whispered.
"I already did," he said, letting his mouth trail lower. The edge of her collarbone. The top curve of her breast. His hands settled on her thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles just above her knees.
"You not gon' stop me," he murmured against her skin.
Rayne bit her lip, eyes half-lidded. "You real confident for somebody who ain't tasted s**t yet."
He smiled against her chest. "Ain't gotta taste it to know it's mine."
She let out a low, breathy laugh. "Boy, please."
But her legs were still open.
His hands slid up, grazing her hips, slipping under the hem of her blouse.
"You keep callin' me 'boy' like I won't make you forget every grown man that ever touched you," he said.
Her breath hitched.
"Khalil..."
"Mmhmm." He kissed her again, right where her pulse was thumping in her neck. "Say it like that when I'm deep in it."
She shoved his shoulder lightly. "You think too highly of yourself."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.
"You talk all this s**t," he said, gripping her thighs tighter, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk, "but your legs ain't moved once."
Rayne stared at him, heat crawling up her spine.
"I didn't say stop," she said, lifting her chin. "I just said don't start."
He smirked, eyes locked with hers.
"That's the difference between boys and men, baby. A boy starts just to impress you. A man finishes-and leaves you stuttering."
Then his lips were back on her.
Lower.
Slower.
Rayne's head tilted back just a little as Khalil's mouth moved along her throat-slow, deliberate, like he had all night. His hands were warm on her thighs, fingers spreading across her skin like they'd always belonged there.
She could feel his breath against her collarbone. His lips brushing the top of her breasts, just above the lace. Not kissing. Not sucking. Just... claiming space.
"I should tell you to stop," she murmured, breath shaky.
He didn't move.
"Then say it."
Rayne swallowed, jaw tight. "You think you slick, huh?"
"I know I am," he murmured, voice so low it sent chills across her skin. "You got all this mouth at brunch, in front of the crew... but now?"
He let his tongue trace a slow path along the dip of her neck.
"Now your hands on my shoulders. And your thighs just keep spreadin'."
Rayne gripped his shirt.
She wasn't trying to pull him closer... but she wasn't pushing him away either.
"I'm not scared of you," she whispered.
"You should be," he said, lifting his head. "'Cause I don't play with s**t I want. I take it. And I keep it."
Their eyes locked.
His hands moved higher, thumbs slipping under her blouse, dragging across bare skin.
"You talk all that tough girl s**t," he said, lips inches from hers, "but your body's honest."
She leaned in, almost close enough to kiss him-almost.
"I'm not one of these little groupies you keep fuckin' through my walls," she said.
"I know you not," he growled. "That's why I ain't touched you 'til now."
Their breaths mingled. Hot. Heavy.
She could feel him between her legs, hard, ready, and not hiding it.
But he didn't push.
He just hovered there-so close she could taste the next step, feel the danger of it.
"You wanna know what I'd do if I really touched you, Rayne?"
She stared at him-lips parted, breath unsteady. He was right there. All heat and hunger and low, nasty promises whispered against her skin.
"No," she whispered, lying.
Khalil grinned, voice dropping even deeper.
"Yeah you do."
His hands flexed on her thighs, fingers digging in just a little, like he was picturing how far he'd take it. His mouth hovered over hers, close enough to taste the want between them.
But Rayne blinked slowly. And that smirk? It slid across her lips like satin.
"Maybe I do," she said, calm now. Dangerous. "But you won't."
She reached up, adjusted his collar like she was straightening him for a meeting-not because her hands were shaking just a little.
"You like to talk," she murmured, letting her fingers trail down the middle of his chest. "All these fantasies. All that bass in your voice."
Her nails grazed just under his shirt before she pulled back.
"But you not ready for me, Khalil. You think you are... but one night with me?"
She hopped down from his desk, slow, sensual, like her body was made to be unwrapped.
"You'd be down bad," she whispered, stepping around him. "Sending good morning texts. Buying me flowers. Checking my location."
He turned to follow her with his eyes, but didn't move-just stood there, tense and silent, letting her talk that talk.
Rayne walked to the door, heels clicking like a countdown.
She glanced over her shoulder.
"You talk like you'd break me. But let's be honest, baby..."
She licked her lips.
"I'd be the one making you beg."
Then she was gone.
Door clicking shut behind her.
Khalil stood in the silence smirking.
"this gone be fun " he muttered.
- Writer
