He was hard as a rock. She bent over the table, looking at the plans for the Matthew’s job and pointing her ass in his direction. His cock twitched in response, straining toward her like the needle of a compass seeking north. By now, he was pretty sure she teased him on purpose. She always used the conference table across from his office, putting herself right in front of his door. He could sit behind his desk and watch the smooth black cloth of her skirt stretch tight across her perfect, round, twenty-two-year-old ass. Christ. He was old enough to be her father. That didn’t stop him from watching her. Her skirts always seemed shorter on Friday. He let his gaze wander from the four-inch black stilettos up her smooth shapely legs to the hem of her skirt. She leaned over farther, her hem shifted, and he caught a glimpse of lace at the top of her thigh. She was wearing stockings. Holy fuck. He tried to force his attention back to the file on his desk. He even chanted “I’m a married spud.
