With one vigorous sweep of his arm, Dean cleared his desk of the files and stationary that sat upon it. They lay abandoned on the floor as he turned her to face away from him, his hand guiding her until she was bent over his desk, her cheek pressed against it.
"You," he said, leaning over her to whisper in her ear. "Not even being your boss can stop me from wanting you, Elle. Every day I have to resist the urge to bend you over my desk like this and make you mine. I can't resist this anymore."
Dean swiftly swatted her arse, her yelp stifled only by his hand covering her mouth.
Oh lord, have mercy on my soul.
His touch travelled up her thighs to the hem of her skirt, pushing it up to reveal the black lace that lay beneath. With a sharp intake of breath, he relieved her of her underwear.
