He rounded her desk and she swiveled her chair to face him as he did, stubbornly not rising and still glaring at him.

“Not gonna say it again,” he told her.

“This is my place of work,” she snapped.

“And?” he asked, stopping close so she had to tip her head back deep to keep his eyes, something she did.

“And you can’t stroll into my place of work and order me around,” she bit out.

“Can, seein’ as I just did. Now, up, Millie. As I’m right here, I’ll take off your panties.”

Again her eyes got round, her cheeks got pinker, but her gaze got angrier.

“You’re not to be believed,” she hissed. “I have work. I have things to do. One of which is needing to leave in ten minutes to meet a client at the florist but I have three emails I have to reply to before I can do that.”

“They’ll have to wait.”

She squinted up at him, even more pissed off, before she ordered, “Get out.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Millie, get up.”

She pushed her chair away, gaining a foot, leaned back, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Okay, we’ve got this bizarre game going on. You know I’m in. But there need to be rules,” she declared.

He shook his head. “No rules.”

“I have a mortgage, High,” she told him sharply.

Fuck, why did he hate it when she called him High? It wasn’t the name given to him, but it was still his goddamned name.

He ignored his reaction to that and replied, “You’re worried about your work, you best get up so I can fuck you and do it fast.”

And he’d give her that.

He knew this was a low play but he also didn’t give a fuck. He’d make any play he deemed necessary, especially if it meant burying his cock inside her, hearing her pant, and feeling her clutch him in all the ways she did that while he was doing it. And he was already hard thinking about it, looking down at her in her frilly blouse, tight skirt, and high heels.

But if she had things to do, he’d take what he wanted fast so she wasn’t too late doing them.

“God, you’re infuriating,” she snapped.

“Score one for me,” he returned. “Now, up.”

“Fuck you, High,” she shot back. “And get the fuck out.”

He took a step toward her and stopped her from pushing back farther by leaning in, hands to the arms of her chair, holding it stationary, face in her face.

“Gonna fuck you on your desk,” he whispered. “Gonna do it fast and hard and you’re gonna come like you come for me, loud. Now quit fuckin’ around and get the fuck up or I’m gonna put you where I want you so I can get on with takin’ what I want from you.”

He knew he had her seeing the heat in her eyes, feeling her breath come faster, noting her tits moving up and down quick with her breaths as she fought the feeling.

But her lips declared, “That is not gonna happen.”

Then she cried out when he made it happen, lifting her clean out of her seat with one arm, twisting, using his other arm to sweep off whatever was on her desk and planting her ass-first on it.

He leaned in, taking her to her back, and she helped out by breathing, “High,” which meant her mouth was open when he kissed her.

She didn’t fight this time. She didn’t twist away. She didn’t push at him.

She accepted his tongue with a moan.

She’d been fighting the feeling.

And she’d lost.

Fuck yeah.

He ran a hand from her knee up, taking her skirt with it, then feeling his dick throb when he encountered the lace top of a thigh-high.

Feeling that, he knew it was time to quit fucking around.

So he did.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he watched as her eyelids lowered and a puff of breath escaped her lips when he used both hands to yank up her skirt.

She immediately locked on to his hips with both thighs.

She wanted this.

Panting for it.

Literally.

He twisted to see her leg in her thigh-high clasped against his jeans at his hip and the sight was such a turn-on, he had to fight against grinding his hard crotch between her legs.

Fuck, now he had to fuck her more than he’d had to fuck her.

Immediately.

He plunged a hand in, pushing aside the gusset of her panties.

The soaked gusset of her panties.

And Millie needed to be fucked.

Immediately.

“High,” she whispered, that throbbing through his dick, too, as she rubbed her wet pussy against his hand and started shoving up his shirt with her fingers.

“You want it?” he asked, toying with her wet as he went after his belt and fly.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Hard?”

“Yes. Hurry.”

To give her something, he started finger-fucking her.

She pressed into his fingers and arched her neck even as she begged. “Your cock, baby. Hurry.”

He pulled his cock free, slid his fingers from her wet, held her panties aside, positioned, and drove deep.

Christ.

Magnificent.

Her fingers curled into his shirt under his jacket, yanked up uncontrollably, then she set her nails into the flesh of his back and dragged down.

High grunted against the gratification of that as he thrust into her sleek, feeling her knees come up so he could drive deeper and she could get more.

When she got it, she raked her nails back up and that felt so fucking phenomenal, he groaned, burying himself to the root and grinding.