Limits | Jessica x MC

“What made you think it was a good idea to touch me like that during the briefing?” Jessica growls in your ear.

Her body is flush against yours, a scorching line of toned curves that burns your skin even through the layers of clothes between you two. Were you in any other place, you would’ve already turned around and shut her harsh lips with yours -- but you’re at the office.

More specifically, you’re in her office. Both of you occupying a hidden corner of a backroom (... fine, it’s a closet) that’s barely wide enough to stretch your arms; she uses this place to store a spare suit, old books and an assortment of random things that a small part of you is eager to go through.

However, she’s now using this place to touch you in ways that are most definitely not workplace appropriate. Her things were carelessly pushed aside in a rush to get in here without anyone catching you two, and you suspect she did not think this through at all, but it’s not like you’re about to complain.

And like a fool, you take the bait she dangles in front of you.

“I just wanted to see how you perform under pressure,” you say with much less sass than you intended to. The way her hands are running on the sides of your body and her hot breath tingles your neck make it quite hard to focus.

“Pressure, huh?” her voice is a dark whisper, and the vibration of her breath as she closes the distance and brushes her lips on the curve of your neck is enough to make your knees weak. “I clearly passed the test, so I think now is time to see how you handle it.”

Before you can ask what she means by that, Jessica swiftly undoes your pants and touches the aching spot between your legs, while clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that escapes you.

“Let’s see how long you can hold out for, shall we?”

You melt. Every stroke of her fingers is dragged out, every kiss she lays on your neck sets your skin alight. Your lower stomach tightens more and more by the second, and your mind is sent into a frenzy under her ministrations.

Her touch is sinful and maddening, she knows exactly how to touch you and your desperate moans can’t even be heard with her strong hand over your mouth.

You can feel her round breasts pushing up against your back, a softness you’d give everything to hold in your hands, to feel rubbing against your bare skin… but you know she won’t let you.

You used to think a control freak like her would enjoy giving up on control in bed -- boy, had you been wrong or what? You’re just glad this time she’s actually touching you instead of just torturing you with whispered words, harsh commands and fleeting touches.

With no warning, Jessica increases her rhythm. She’s rough and relentless, nibbling on your neck hard enough to make you shiver but not enough to leave a mark.

Heat pools in your core, and the aching spot between your legs is now a throbbing mess. Your release is close, so close that you’re having a hard time standing up on your own.

“Are you about to come?” Jessica asks in a rough voice, her breath burning against your damp skin.

Since her hand is still covering your mouth, all you do is nod desperately. A numbing heat starts to spread from your core and then--

It’s gone.

It’s all gone.

Jessica’s hand is no longer touching you, her toned body is no longer pushing you up against the wall, and your release is slowly but surely slipping through your (her) fingers.

In a daze, you turn around to stare at her. “What the--”

“Put your clothes back on, C.I. You can’t walk around with your pants down like this.” Jessica nods at you with a smug smirk on her face, and your cheeks immediately flush when you realise she left you with your pants open and underwear pushed down, and that she’s letting her eyes linger longer than they should on your body.

“You’re just going to stop?” you huff, fumbling with shaky hands to fix your clothes.

“I believe that is what I did,” she shrugs, opening the door and stopping just before stepping outside to look back at you. Her eyes are darker than usual, the desire in them as clear as day when she catches your eyes. “My place. Eight p.m. Don’t be late.”

Your mind is still hazy from the high you’d just been mercilessly pulled out from, so you can’t even come up with a smart comeback to her awful invitation.

The woman isn’t exactly fluent in romance, and you’re sure romance isn’t what she has in mind for you two tonight anyway, so you’ll let that slide.

Thus, you nod. And that’s enough to get that pain in the ass of a suit to give you one of her rare, bright smiles that are capable of getting you to forgive her lack of tact every single time. God, you hate how much you love her.

“And don’t worry about dinner, I’ll make us some italian.”