Beneath the Surface by Gracie C. McKeever Page B

made an exception, recognized several distinctive traits of the Sagittarius he professed to be, especially in his flirtatiousness and outrageous candor, at least where sex was concerned. She had yet to test him on how honest he was in other areas of his life, still hung up on that tie comment he’d made in her office, revealing and candid enough in itself.
    She’d never before thought of herself as a nympho or a sexual freak, but that vision she’d had in his bedroom wouldn’t let go, had her squeezing her legs together and desperately fidgeting in her seat searching for relief. The image of Eric’s wrists bound to his bedposts so intense and real she felt as if she’d done the knots herself and was now eager to try bondage when it had never been a conscience consideration before.
    She usually had more control over her urges. What was wrong with her?
    Tabitha pondered the latest symptom of her carnality for only a minute before she closed her eyes to recall that imaginary scene in his bedroom, and the actual one—his 48
    Beneath the Surface
    hand in her pants, fingers inside her, breath warm and seductive in her ear—that now had her nipples hardening against her silk top.
    She immediately felt wetness seeping from her vagina.
    This was not good, too early in the morning and the wrong place for these shenanigans!
    Cynthia would have said there was never a wrong place or time for making whoopie, but then her secretary was a newlywed with the fresh glow of a one-month-old marriage hovering over her body like a halo publicizing her sated woman status for all the world to see.
    How could he do this to her when he was nowhere in the vicinity? The arrogant sexy pig!
    Okay, no use whining over spilled juices. She’d just have to take care of this while she had time. Granted she didn’t often indulge in self-titillation, and certainly not at the office. Indeed, most who knew her probably thought she was still an untried virgin and didn’t know where all her parts were much less how to get at them and stimulate them to fruition. But she had enough experience with her body to get herself off. She just preferred a partner, more accurately one who knew what he was doing, and cared enough about her pleasure to do it. Having had only three actual lovers since she’d turned eighteen, she had rarely come across men who fell into both categories at once.
    Perhaps some shenanigans now would be good since she was meeting him a little later in the day to start shopping. She didn’t want to be loaded and pent up with so much sexual frustration the mere sight of him sent her into an emotional and physical tailspin, creaming her panties even more than they were now. If this kept up, she was going to have to start wearing Depends! Either that, or carry extra underwear in her handbag.
    Tabitha spread her legs slightly, pussy throbbing with anticipation as she slid her hand into the waistband of her skirt, gliding down into her panties until she’d reached her slit. The crotch of her underwear was moist and the flood had only begun. She teased her labia and vulva with her fingers for several silent moments, intensely focused as she was with any goal she had her eye on attaining, determined to reach it. She gently rolled and pinched her clit between forefinger and thumb before she drove her middle finger into her hot sheath and clamped down on it as if it were a hard pulsing cock.
    Tabitha thrust and made circles with the digit, riding her hand and stimulating the bundle of nerves near the entrance of her vagina, writhing in her seat when she reached her G-spot. She thumbed her swollen clit and plunged her finger in a steady rhythm until she felt herself creeping towards climax.
    Poised on the precipice, trembling and hot before the gathering force of her orgasm pushed her over the edge, Tabitha released a long deep moan, incredulous, the animal sound shocking her with its unfamiliarity. It concerned her for only an instant before she