I’ve just gone through the security check at the employees’ exit when my iPhone buzzes inside my pocket. I hesitate when I see it’s an email from Mr. X, but curiosity eventually wins over my still-smarting pride, and I click on his message.

Meet me at my office.

My face scrunches in an unhappy frown, and I stop walking just so I can concentrate on typing my reply.

Me: No, thank you.

Mr. X: I only have thirty-five minutes to spare.

I grit my teeth. So what? Does he expect I’d come running just because he deigned to give me thirty-five minutes of his time? The more I think about it, the more irritated I get, and I find myself making a 180-degree turn.

Mr. X needs to be taken down a peg or two, I think grimly as I march back to the office, and I’m going to do just that.

When I reach his office, I don’t bother knocking on his door and barge straight in. I want to slam the door closed behind me, but good manners prevail in the end, and I allow it to close quietly. There are better – and more polite ways – to make my point.

Turning around, I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind---

Mr. X is right in front of me, and before I can say a word he’s already cupped my face and covering my mouth with his.

Ooooh!

My knees buckle at the unexpected onslaught, and I futilely beat his chest, trying to shove him away even as my head reels at his kiss. But still it continues, and with every second that passes, the movement of his lips over mine takes over my senses more and more and more, until he’s dominated them completely---

And I’m lost.

My eyes close in surrender, and when my body softens against his, Mr. X pulls me closer to deepen the kiss. When he sweeps me up in his arm, I don’t let myself think where he’s taking me or what he’s about to do. I just want to lose myself in his kiss forever.

“You taste sweeter every time I kiss you, Anisia.” The words, muttered against my lips, make me shudder, and I squeeze my eyes shut more tightly. How embarrassingly weak I am with Mr. X, to let myself be swept away with just a kiss and a few nice words.

After lowering me to the edge of his desk, he lifts his mouth from mine, leaving me no choice but to let my eyes slowly drift open. When our gazes meet, he says quietly, “I hurt you earlier. Didn’t I?”

I don’t answer, knowing I don’t need to.

“I’m sorry.” His voice has become tight. “It wasn’t my intention. You caught me off guard, and I reacted instinctively.”

I still don’t say a word, but this time it’s because I don’t even understand what he’s getting to. He told me to stalk him, and now he’s saying I caught him off guard?

Mr. X shakes his head, snarling under his breath, “You’re the only one who reduces me into this state of incoherence.”

His faintly irritated tone gets to me, and I can’t help but glare at him, muttering, “You seem to be blaming me for a lot of things when you’re not even making sense.”

There’s a moment of silence and then I hear Mr. X mutter an expletive under his word.

I stiffen. Is he actually cursing me---

Mr. X’s blue-gray eyes widen, and then he says right away, “No.” His voice is firm. “That wasn’t directed at you. I’m furious at myself because I realized you were right. You’re not to blame at all. I am.”

“I don’t even get what you’re blaming me or yourself for,” I blurt out.

“I’m blaming myself for hurting you,” he says simply.

Oh.

“I could’ve said something earlier to reassure you, but I didn’t because…” His gaze becomes hooded, and his tone unreadable as he says, “When you told me you were going to leave because you didn’t want to distract me from Sir Bartholomew’s operation – you meant it, didn’t you?”

I nod warily.

“I thought you did.” His lips twist. “And that’s what caught me off guard. All the other women I’ve dated before you didn’t give a damn about my work.”

Understanding finally dawns, and I say uncertainly, “I didn’t say it just so you’d think I’m nicer or better than them.”

“I know that, sweetheart.”

This time, a note of gentle amusement underscores his voice. It makes my cheeks burn for some reason, and I add hurriedly, “It’s only because we work in the same field – well, sort of – that I understand the nature of your job.”

His eyes gleaming, he drawls, “Let me get this straight. Are you actually trying to convince me you’re not nice?”

I grimace, realizing he was right, and when he starts to chuckle, I stammer defensively, “It’s not just that.”

“Go on then.” His tone is patient. “Give me another reason to prove you’re not nice.”

“Stop twisting my words!”

“So you’re nice then?”

“No! I mean, yes!” I shake my head, now feeling even more rattled. “What I mean is, I also said those things because I wanted it to be clear that this, umm---” The word ‘fling’ comes to mind, but I just can’t make myself say it, and so I end lamely, “I don’t want this, umm, thing between us to be an obligation.”

“I see.”

“I just want it to be fun.” I look at him earnestly. “It has to be fun for both of us, okay?”

After a moment, Mr. X answers, “Okay.”

His tone is mockingly obedient, and it’s just so unbefitting that I can’t help but giggle.

Mr. X blinks. “You giggled.”

Oops. My mouth snaps shut. “I’m sorry.” That was terribly unsophisticated of me.

“You misunderstand,” Mr. X refutes. “I think it’s adorable.”

I shrug, not at all convinced. From now on, I’m going to stop giggling and be more sophisticated.

Mr. X sighs. “I can see I’ve got my work cut out with you.”

Blinking in confusion, I’m about to tell him he’s not making sense again when he adds abruptly, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about today. I know approaching me earlier didn’t come easy to you. On the other hand---” His gaze narrows. “Why haven’t you come earlier?”

“Umm---”

“I’ve been tempted to strangle you for having me chomping on the bits, waiting for you to make a move.” He pauses, and his voice is hard when he asks, “Or was that your objective all along?”

“I wish I can be that calculating, but no.” I know I should be offended by his question, but honestly I’m more concerned. He must have dated a lot of manipulative women before me.

“Don’t make me wait that long again,” Mr. X orders. Before I can answer, he goes on asking, “Well? What was your reason for making me wait?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I confess the truth. “I was weighing the pros and cons.”

His eyebrow arches. “And what are the cons?”

“Just one,” I admit awkwardly.

“And?”

“And it’s that you could end up hurting me.”

“I see.” His tone has become unreadable once more, but he doesn’t say anything else, and I actually like and respect him more for that. After a moment, he asks levelly, “And the pros?”

“Just one, too.” And knowing that he’d want to know what it is, I lower my head to avoid his gaze as I mumble, “You’re really good at kissing.” The words must have shocked him because he doesn’t speak for several moments. Unable to bear the silence, I slowly peek at his expression---

And that’s when I see the sexy tiny smirk playing on his lips, and I realize he’s only been waiting for me to look at him.

“You’re such a---”

“Good kisser,” he cuts me off silkily. “I know. You told me so, remember?”

Oh God, how unbelievably cocky can this man be!

I try to push him away so I can get off his desk, but he only laughs as he hauls me close to him. As I fall against his chest, he whispers, “I think you should know…” He pauses to lick my ear, and I gasp and shudder, taken completely by surprise.

“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.” And as soon as he finishes speaking, I feel his hands going under my skirt.

“W-what are you---” My voice trails off when his next action answers my unfinished question.

Oh dear heavens, he’s taking my panties off…and I’m letting him!

When he starts to part my thighs, I stammer, “What are you---”

“Relax,” he interrupts me soothingly even as he gently pushes me back to the desk.

I shake my head jerkily. Relax? Is he serious? How can I relax when he’s standing between my legs and I haven’t any panties on? Raising myself on my elbows, I start to tell him that things are going too fast---

But it’s too late.

Mr. X has planted his face between my legs.

Oh.

I feel the first lick of his tongue against my folds.

Dear.

And I fall back against the desk.

His hands gripping my butt, Mr. X proceeds to eat my pussy. He starts slowly and leisurely, and he licks my folds for the longest time that when he finally thrusts his tongue inside of me I’m this close to orgasm.

Clapping my hands over my mouth, I try to control my moans even as I writhe under the agonizingly exquisite movements of his tongue.

The strokes of his tongue have become faster and deeper now, and my body writhes more uncontrollably under his mouth. Squeezing the cheeks of my butt hard, he grinds his mouth against my pussy, and it’s simply too much.

My eyes roll back, and I arch against him as I come, doing my best to keep my screams to myself as I feel wave after wave of ecstasy pummel my wildly gyrating body.

As I come and come and come, Mr. X laps up every drop, and the way his tongue continues to drive in and out of me nonstop prolongs my orgasm so that by the time the last tremor fades, I’m completely spent.

I can’t even open my eyes when I feel him take my shoes off before lifting me up in his arms and taking me to the en-suite shower. Inside, he uses the handheld spray to rinse me, and I can’t help but shudder and moan anew when the soapy movements of his fingers feel very much like a caress on my still-quivering pussy.

“P-please…” But still his fingers continue to torment my flesh.

My knees buckle, my body starts to sway alarmingly, and then I start to fall.

Mr. X catches me in time, and I feel his chest vibrate against mine with his soft chuckle.

“You’re so damn sensitive,” he whispers into my ear.

“S-sorry,” I whisper back, ashamed.

He bites my ear, and over my whimper he says, “Don’t be. I like you sensitive, so stay that way.”

After patting my flesh dry with a disposable towel sheet, Mr. X brings me back to his office and despite my blushing protests, he insists on helping me to my underwear and shoes.

When I’m once again dressed, he begins, “I’ll get my driver to---”

I shake my head vehemently. “Nope.”

His gaze narrows. “I prefer to have my driver take you home. It’s already late.”

“It’s not that late, and you know it.”

“Nevertheless---”

“I’ve been commuting my entire life,” I cut him off gently. “I know how to take care of myself.”

His jaw hardens. “You’re not going to budge on this one, are you?”

“I’m sorry. I won’t.” I bite my lip. “But please don’t get mad?”

After a moment, Mr. X sighs. “I’m not.” Closing the distance between us, he surprises me by placing a kiss on my forehead. “Take care on your way home then.” But just as I pull away, he whispers into my ear, “The next move is still yours.”