She’s wearing one of those damned short skirts again.
She knows he can hardly control himself when her thighs are on display like that. How’s he supposed to concentrate on mingling with his peers when she struts around like that?
Dr. Kazansky is talking his ear off about the budgets for next year, but Bob’s eyes follow Imogen around. He drains the rest of his drink in one go, and excuses himself.
He’s laser focused on Imogen, trying to catch her eye. When he does, she excuses herself from her own conversation, and slips out a side door discreetly.
He tries to wait a few minutes, but he’s antsy and when he enters the narrow corridor, she overwhelms his senses.
“Took you long enough, Professor.” Her voice is almost as dark as the corridor they’re standing in, but he can feel the heat of her. Pushing her against the wall, his lips capture hers in a desperate kiss.
It’s only been a few days since he touched her last, but he can’t keep his hands to himself. “Let’s go to my office,” he mumbles against her lips as his palms travel up under her skirt.
“We can’t,” she pants into his mouth.
“We won’t be missed for a couple of hours,” he insists, groaning when he realizes she’s not wearing panties. “We should take advantage of that.”
Imogen puts her hands against his shoulders, keeping him from kissing her. “They’ll notice.”
Pressing his thumb to her unclothed clit, he relishes in the gasp that escapes her lips. “If you didn’t want this,” he whispers and adds more pressure. “Why did you leave your panties at home?”
It’s dark in the corridor, but he’s sure he sees her smirking up at him. “Because someone keeps them all and refuses to give them back.”
He circles her clit slowly, her wetness already coating his fingers. “I need to taste you.”
Her gasp turns into a strangled moan, and the hold on his shoulders tightens. “Do it then.”
