Tasting my colleague (1)

Jane POV

I can’t believe this is happening again.

Brian and I are at it again in the conference room, voices raised, papers scattered across the table like some battlefield.

We have been gunning for the same senior manager spot for months, and today’s the day the boss is deciding.

I’m not letting this smug asshole steal it from me.

“You think your little sales pitch is going to sway Mr. Hargrove?” Brian sneers, leaning forward with his hands planted on the table.

His voice drops low and that gravelly tone he gets when he’s trying to intimidate me. It’s commanding, almost… sexy?

No, fuck that. I shake my head trying to focus. 

“Your numbers are inflated bullshit, Jane. We both know it.” he voices out.

I stand up straighter, crossing my arms over my chest to hide how my heart’s pounding— not just from anger. Fuck why does he have to stand like that?

Legs apart, shoulders back filling the space like he owns it. 

His shirt clings to his broad chest and the deep rumble in his throat when he says my name…

It sends this unwelcome heat straight between my legs. I hate him. I hate how competitive he is, how he always on- ups me.

But right now my nipples are tightening under my blouse and I feel a slick warmth building in my panties.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Inflated? Says the guy who’s been kissing ass since day one,” I shoot back and my voice sharper than I intended.

But inside, my mind’s reeling. This isn’t me. Brian’s the enemy, the rival who’s made my work life hell.

Yet here I am, thighs clenching involuntarily as his eyes lock on mine and that confident smirk playing on his lips. “You’re delusional if you think you’re getting this promotion over me.”

He chuckles low and mocking while steeping closer as the scent of his cologne hits me— musky, masculine and I swear my pussy twitches.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But we both know who's really close here.” Brian stance shifts and I can’t stop staring at the way his pants hug his thighs.

Fuck, is that a bulge? No, stop it, Jane. This is ridiculous. 

I hate this feeling and this betrayal from my own body.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snap, grabbing my folder and turning my heel. “We’re done here.” I stormed out while my face was burning and my pulse racing.

The office blurs as I make a beeline for the toilet down the hall slamming the door behind me and locking it.

I leaned against the sink while splashing cold water in my face and breathing hard. “Calm down Jane. It’s just adrenaline from the fight which I kept telling myself.

But no—- my mind flashes back to his voice, the stand and the way he looked over me.

My clit throbs demanding attention. Shit I can’t stop thinking about him.

His hands, strong and sure, pinning me down. No I despise him then why is this turning me on?

The conflict twists in my gut like a knife. He's everything I can't stand—arrogant, relentless, always in my way. But god, imagining him like that... It makes me wet. 

I glance at my handbag on the counter, biting my lip. 

Screw it. I need to get this out of my system before I face him again. Digging inside, I pull out my discreet vibrator—the small, powerful one I keep for emergencies like long days or stressful nights.

My hands shake as I lock myself in the farthest stall, the toilet lid down as I perch on it, skirt hiked up around my waist.

I slide my panties aside, gasping at how slick I already am. My fingers brush my swollen folds parting them to expose my aching clit. 

The vibrator hums to life on its lowest setting, and I press it against my entrance first, teasing myself with shallow vibrations. But my mind betrays me, flooding with images of Brian. 

He's there in my fantasy, bursting into the stall, his eyes dark with that same hunger I saw in the conference room.

"You think you can walk away from me like that, Jane?" he growls in my imagination, his voice echoing in my head as he grabs my wrists, slamming them above my head against the stall wall.

I hate how much I want it—his body crowding mine, his free hand yanking my blouse open, buttons popping while he pinches my nipples hard, twisting them until I arch and whimper.

"Look at you, all worked up over our little argument. Bet your pussy's dripping for me right now." Brian says.

A moan slips from my lips in reality as I crank the vibrator up, sliding it deep into my cunt. It buzzes against my walls, stretching me just enough, and I rock my hips, fucking myself with it while picturing Brian's fingers replacing it—rough, insistent, curling inside me to hit that spot.

This is wrong. He's the jerk who's trying to ruin my career. But the fantasy won't stop. He drops to his knees in my mind, shoving my thighs apart, his hot breath on my clit before his tongue lashes out, flicking and sucking mercilessly.

"Taste so fucking good, you competitive little bitch," he murmurs against my pussy in the vision and his teeth grazing my sensitive nub.

I gasp, free hand sneaking under my bra to tweak my own nipple, mimicking his rough tugs as the vibrator thrusts faster now and my juices coating it as I pump it in and out, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet toilet.

Why does hating him make this hotter? He stands in my head, unzipping his pants, pulling out his thick cock—god, it's huge, veined and hard—and slaps it against my cheek.

“Open up, Jane. Suck it like you mean it.” he demands fisting my hair to force my mouth onto him.