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Corbeau is patient, except for when it comes to you.
He wakes up to his alarm from a euphoric dream about you, and rock hard, his boxers wet and uncomfortable. His body is on fire, as though your hands and lips were still cascading across his body, fingertips lightly scratching at the flesh of his torso. At a weak attempt to relieve himself, he strokes his cock until he has to get ready, and pictures your hand instead of his. When he has no more time to spend on himself, he forces himself to get out of bed, despite how badly he aches for you.
Corbeau doesnât even last a full hour at the office, constantly readjusting in his seat, until he finally texts you.
âGood morning. Iâm free between 1-3. If you have time to drop by, Iâd love to see you.â
He plays coy on purpose. Corbeau doesnât want to pressure you, but if heâs not inside you by the end of the night, he might go insane.
Your reply comes fast, and heâs grateful for it.
âSure, Iâll see you then :)â
With a victorious grin, and another readjustment of his pants, he sends another text.
âYou should wear that outfit I like.â
And then, in quick succession;
âIf you feel up to itâ
You take longer to reply this time, and Corbeau taps his foot on the floor. Surely, you shouldâve gotten his hint. When he considers taking it back, you respond.
âWeâll see đâ
Corbeau smirks. Immediately, he begins drafting a text where he tells you exactly what he wants to do to you, but deletes it the moment Philippe enters with a few grunts trailing behind him. He taps his foot again, understanding that heâll just have to show you what he wants.
The hours tick by so painfully slow. He does his best to not be cross, but every moment that passes is another he doesnât have his lips on your body. Another he canât hear your delicious moans or-
He adjusts his pants again.
Corbeau canât remember a time he was this desperate for someone, but you are already an anomaly to him. Still, heâs had partners and flings in the past that were hot, and heavy, though they died just as quickly. You, however, circle around and around, and Corbeau still canât get enough of you.
Lucky for him, you arrive 10 minutes early. The elevator dings, and immense relief washes over him. Still, he stays upright, crossing his hands over his desk as casually as he can manage, putting up a well practiced facade of nonchalance.
You were wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweats, rather than the sexy outfit he implied you wear. Maybe you didnât understand what he meant earlier. ThatâsâŚfine. Thatâs fine, he can manage.
âDearest,â Corbeau smiles, motioning you over. âCome here. Iâm so glad to see you.â
You return the greeting, coming up the long runway to his desk, and then around the back. Corbeau wants you to sit on his lap. He spreads his legs to make room, even pats his knee encouragingly, and you instead sit on the edge of his desk across from him. Youâre close, but not even touching.
Corbeau twitches, resisting every urge to pull you onto his lap and have his way with you.
âSo, how was your day?â You smile.
âFine, uneventful.â He lets out a long breath. âHow are you?â
âGood.â You glance around the office, casually. The dimmed, yellow lights, look great on you, they always do. Suddenly, you look back at him. âSo? Whatâs the plan? Itching to lose to me again?â
Corbeau scoffs. âHaha. No, actually, I was thinking-â
âUgh!â You hung your head back dramatically, âitâs hot in here. More than usual.â
Corbeau raises a brow. âI hadnât noticed.â The truth is that he is burning up, but he was under the impression this was a self infliction. Though, he found his opening. âWell, if you want to slip that sweater off, Iâm sure youâd find the temperature more manageable.â
You consider for a moment. Corbeau canât quite place your expression, it feels almost too thoughtful. âYouâre right, this thing is too hot to wear.â
Suddenly, you rip your sweatshirt off. Underneath, a deep purple, lacy lingerie webs across your chest. Corbeau chokes on his spit, and a taunting, evil smile grew on your lips.
âPhew.â You lean back on your arms, stretching across the edge of his desk. âMuch better-â
Corbeau stands, and pins your shoulders down to the desk. You squeal as he starts attacking your shoulder blades with kisses.
âBeau-â
âYouâre such a minx.â He grins, teeth scraping your flesh. His hands run up and down your sides wildly. âFirst you haunt my dreams, and then you do this?â
âYour dreams?â
Corbeau doesnât bother to answer, he doesnât have the mind to. He stands between your legs as he trails hot kisses down your chest. His erection is obvious, even through his pants and yours. He pants against the plush your stomach. âCan I fuck you? Here? Now? Please.â
You laugh. âWell, that was the plan.â Tangling your hands into his hair, you tug, lifting his head so he could look down at you. His cheeks were bright red, glasses askew. âI wouldâve come sooner, I didnât realize you were so worked up.â
âI canât stop thinking about you.â Now he meets your lips, kissing you slowly, with more control than before. âYouâre diving me mad, I just want to touch you. Always.â He groans into your lips.
âIâm right here. Have me.â
With your permission, he steps back to pull your sweats off, revealing the bottom half of your lingerie. He scans you over with wide, hungry eyes. For a moment he hesitates, fingers twitching on your thigh.
Suddenly he grabs his phone, pressing a button and holding it to his ear. As the phone rings, his free hand runs across your torso, from your chest to your abdomen, where he lingers at the waistband of your panties.
âPhilippe.â Corbeau grunts into the phone as he suddenly dips into your panties. He goes straight for your core, fingertips pressing against your clit. You cover your mouth with your palms to stay quiet.
âYes, yes, itâs fine. Look, I just need you to cancel my meetings for the rest of the day.â He looks at you again, a glint in his eyes as he rubs a slow circle over your clit. âYes, something came up. My hands are tied up with a very important matter.â
