A Secret Thing, 1/2
Rose was frustrated, glaring at the clock periodically as her meeting dragged on. It was seven o’clock on a Friday night, Peter was in town, and she was supposed to have been done an hour before. Her pointed looks at her watch seemed not to register with the specialist sitting across from her-the same woman who’d been droning on for three hours, now, about something which really should only have taken a half hour. Well, perhaps an hour. But certainly not three.
Rose’s mobile trilled; she looked down at it gratefully, hurriedly removing it from her hip. It was Peter. She gave a semi-apologetic smile to the specialist before answering.
“Hello.” Peter’s warm voice came down the line, making her blood heat up.
“Hello. I’m, ah...still in a meeting. I’m sorry. Where are you?”
“In your lobby. Torchwood’s lobby, that is.”
“Stay there. Someone will come get you.”
“I’ll not be going anywhere without you,” he answered mildly, humour in his voice. She felt herself blush.
“Tease.”
“I love you, too. See you in a bit.”
He rang off before she could reply, his chuckle the last noise she heard. She shook her head, smiling. The specialist cleared her throat, and Rose glanced up at her, her smile fading. “Just one more minute.”
She rang Mickey, hoping against hope he’d have stayed late. Jake was across the world at the moment, and Mickey always worked late when his partner was out of town.
“H’lo, Rose.”
“Heya. I need a favour-Peter’s in the lobby, could you let him in?
“Ah...Rose, you know I can’t...” Mickey’s voice was apologetic, and she hastened to correct his misapprehension.
“I got his information into the system this morning. He should be cleared for an appointment badge. If you could just meet him; he’ll have no idea where he’s going.” Not even Jackie Tyler could get into Torchwood without prior clearance-but, by providing some basic information about a person in advance, guests could be given prior clearance and ‘badged in’ upon their arrival. Jackie’s information was on file with Security, so often did she stop by to visit Pete or Rose; Rose had provided Peter’s to Jacques that morning, asking if he could be entered in to the visitor system.
“Oh. In that case, I’ll leave him in your office.”
“You’re a superstar.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rose clicked her phone shut, returning her attention to the woman sitting impatiently across from her. “Sorry. I have a guest. Will we be much longer?”
They weren’t, the specialist clearly put out that Rose didn’t have all of the time in the world. Twenty minutes later, Rose was in the lift, returning to her office, her mind already skipping along to where she and Peter could go for supper. The bell dinged for her floor, and she stepped off to find Mickey waiting to get on.
“Thanks, Micks.” She leaned in, brushing a kiss over his cheek.
“You’re welcome. More than welcome.” Mickey was grinning, and she felt her heart sink.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. And you should be grateful.” He held his hand out, holding the lift doors open. “He’s in your office, and I’m out of here for the night. See you Monday.” With that rather odd non sequitur, Mickey stepped into the lift, breaking out into a grin as the doors closed.
What on earth was going on? She walked down the deserted corridors, unsure of whether to be worried or just...confused.
The door to her office was closed, and she slowly pushed it open, her uncertainty growing. What had Mickey done to Peter?
Only her desk lamp was on, the lights of the city bright through the windows. Peter was sat at her desk, reading-one of his history books, she was sure; as she stepped in he glanced up, a smile gracing his face.
She felt her body react immediately, and she suddenly understood what Mickey had said. He’d not shaved for at least a few days, dark growth covering his jaw; his hair was tousled, and he was wearing a simple button-down shirt. He looked divine.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she replied, walking around her desk. He stood, still smiling at her; she dropped her notebook on her desk without looking and reached forward for him, pulling him towards her for a kiss.
“Well, hello there.” His voice was filled with good humour as they pulled apart, his eyes sparkling in the light. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She reached up, her hand cradling his jaw, her fingers lightly rubbing against his scruff. He looked like he usually did at the cottage, when he was so completely relaxed. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, gazing at him. “You look...you look...amazing.”
He blushed, ducking his eyes to the side. “I’ve been up in Scotland these past days.”
“Ah.” She scratched her fingers through his beard, her lips quirking. “’s everything ok?”
“Right as rain.”
There was an odd note to his voice as his eyes returned to hers. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. ‘m sorry I didn’t mention it.”
“You don’t have to report to me, you know.”
“I know.”
“Good.” She leaned up, her lips brushing across his cheek. “I love it when you look like this.” She splayed her hand across his chest, bracing herself as she pushed up onto her tiptoes.
She heard his breath catch, felt his arm come around to hold her to him. “I might be aware of that fact, yes.” He had tilted his head down, his lips whispering against her hair.
“I...might not be able to keep my hands off of you.” She turned, brushing her lips across his skin.
“Mmmm...then perhaps we should go somewhere a bit more...”
“We...there’s no one here.” She felt dangerous saying it, her heart beating like mad. Peter had said, months before, that he’d dreamt of shagging her in the squad room in Kendal. She’d dreamt, more than once, of making love to him in her office.
He pulled back, gazing at her, his eyes dark and his expression serious. “Rose...this...we can’t...can we?”
“We could...”
“Aren’t there cameras in here?”
She giggled. “Not in the offices, no. Only in the conference rooms.”
“Ah.” His lips curved upwards, his smile seductive. “Then are you suggesting we do something untoward in your office, Miss Tyler?”
“I think I am, Mr. Carlisle.”
He leaned down, his lips crushing against hers; she let out a small, startled noise before relaxing against him, leaning up into the kiss. His hands slid down, finding the opening in her jacket; she felt them slide up to her shoulders, guiding the worsted wool over her shoulders and down her arms. She moved, helping him to take her jacket off as she continued to kiss him.
The jacket fell to the floor behind her, and she reached up, her fingers deftly working the buttons of Peter’s shirt. She felt him shift, his hands on her hips; he turned them, backing her against the desk, before moving his hands to unbutton her blouse.
Peter had foregone a vest, and she smiled into their kiss as her hands rested against his chest, sliding over the bare skin she found; he finally finished unbuttoning her blouse, and pulled it apart before pulling her flush against him.
She braced her hands against the edge of the desk, breaking the kiss and tilting her head back; Peter smiled, brushing kisses down her neck, the stubble at his jaw adding to the sensation of his lips against her skin. He continued kissing in a line, finally bending and drifting his lips across to her breast; she drifted her hands to his hair as he began to tease her, lightly rubbing his jaw across the silk of her bra before turning and pressing his tongue against the peak of her breast.
She flexed and relaxed her hands in time to the ministrations of his tongue; she could feel herself begin to ache for him, her knickers growing wet as he continued to tease her. She finally gave a gentle tug on his hair, pulling him back up to her; his eyes were glazed and his lips glistened in the gentle light from the lamp.
Her heart clenched with love for him as she met his gaze, as her eyes drifted to his lips. She brought her hands to his jaw, pulling him towards her for another kiss; he complied, eagerly kissing her, pinning her in place with his hips. Her hands drifted around his torso, coming to rest on his arse, pulling him flush against her as she ran her tongue across the roof of his mouth.
He groaned, and she felt her lips curve in triumph.
“If I didn’t know better, Miss Tyler, I’d think you were seducing me,” he whispered, moving his lips across her jaw to her ear. She kept her hands on his arse, holding him in place.
“I am seducing you, Mr. Carlisle,” she whispered, brushing a kiss over the corner of his jaw.
“Ah, so long as we’re both clear on that.” He brushed his tongue over the soft skin of her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth and sucking gently.
“Crystal clear,” she gasped, bucking her hips against his. She felt his lips curve.
Arrogant sod.
She rotated her hips; he gasped, and she felt another smile cross her lips.
He pulled back, his eyes nearly black. “I don’t have...I...” His eyes were slightly unfocused as she bucked into him again, and he leaned forward to crush his lips against hers.
She returned his kiss, teasing him once more with her tongue, before moving to whisper, “But I do.”
He scrambled back, his desire for her evident; she leaned forward, her hand cupping him lightly. “Take these off, and I’ll be right back.”
Her purse was tucked in one of the cabinets, and she hurried over to find the condom she’d tucked away in her wallet a few months after she and Peter had started having sex. He was a passionate man, and she had learned to always be prepared where he was concerned.
She returned to her desk to find Peter unzipping his trousers; he held her gaze as he slowly slid the fly down. She placed the condom on her desk before moving her hands forward, reaching to help free him from his pants. He stilled her, holding her gaze.
“And what of you?” His voice was incredibly low, and she felt a flash of heat at the intensity of it.
She licked her lips, her mind going blank for a moment. What of her? He released her wrists, moving his hands forward; she was ineffably grateful that she’d worn one of her skirt suits that day, as Peter reached around her to find the zip. She rested her hands against his chest once more, allowing him to undress her, the skirt sliding with a soft sound in the otherwise silent room. Peter slid his hands forward, his fingers dancing along her suspenders, his eyes drifting downwards to look at her stockings.
She shifted her hands, reaching forward, taking his erection in his hand, even as his fingers found the line of her knickers. She lightly held him in her palm, stroking him gently, his hardness warm and comforting in her hand. He moved to rest one hand on her hip, the other continuing to explore the line of her knickers, teasing her.
She tightened her grip on him, her thumb rubbing the tip of his penis as she picked up her pace; he closed his eyes, tilting his head back, his hand going still. She leaned forward, arching her back, brushing her breasts across his chest. “Peter, I want you to shag me.”
She placed the tip of her tongue at the corner of her mouth, licking her lips as he straightened, as his gaze found hers. He bent down, kissing her briefly, before pulling back and reaching for the condom.
She released him, taking the condom from him; as she opened the packet, he rested his hands on her hips and guided her to sit on the edge of her desk. He slid in between her legs, his eyes watching as she rolled the condom onto him; she met his eyes as she finished. She held him as he pressed forward, guiding him to her, her eyes never wavering from his steady gaze.
He pushed her knickers aside, the tip of his erection coming into contact with her entrance; he pressed gently into her, just enough for her eyes to flutter shut, and she brought her hands up, around, bringing them to rest on his naked arse. He pushed fully into her, his hips pushing flush against hers, and she felt a wave of heat roll through her.
“Rose.” He held in place, his voice soft; she blinked her eyes open, and looked at him. He’d had to crouch just a little, to be at the right height for the desk, and had braced his weight on his arms. As she met his gaze, he pulled out of her, pausing just a moment before sliding back in and pulling out once more. She fought to keep her eyes focused on him, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation of Peter making love to her on her desk. He reached up, cupping her cheek, and he leaned forward even as he pushed into her again.
“I love this, Rose.” He came to a stop, buried fully in her, and she felt her breath catch. He pulled out, taking a breath. “I love making love to you.” He slid into her once more, rotating his hips. She gasped, her hands clutching at his arse, her back arching. “I love how naughty you are tonight.” He pulled out, drove into her; she felt a moan escape her lips. He pulled out again, pausing long enough that she opened her eyes, seeking out his gaze. He met it, burning, and began to rhythmically drive into her. “I love seeing you in front of me; I want to see you come for me,” he whispered, his hand snaking in between them.
She moved her hands, bracing them on the desk, providing leverage as Peter drove her to orgasm. His fingers pressed against her centre, stroking in time with his thrusts, teasing her by rubbing small circles every now and again. She could feel her orgasm building, knew she needed more; she shifted quickly, hiking her thighs over his hips, locking her ankles behind him. “Peter, I need you. Harder...faster...please...” She could hear the need in her voice, only wanted him to drive her to release; he began to slam into her, pressing further now that the angle had changed. She tilted her head back, concentrating on the sensation of him pushing her closer and closer, of the motion of his clever fingers against her centre, of the feel of his penis sliding into and out of her, of his hips pressing against hers so intimately...
Her orgasm crested, washing over and through her; she sobbed, begging him to keep going, to not stop, to never stop. He continued to stroke her as he increased his rhythm, his lips crashing against hers as he worked to prolong her orgasm, as he drove himself on towards his own. He slipped his hand from in between them, bracing his hands on the desk as he pushed harder, reaching for his own release; Rose slid a hand into his hair, moving to run her tongue over his ear. “Peter, I love this.” She sucked briefly on his earlobe before continuing, “You, inside me, against me...I love how you feel when you come.” She nipped at his ear before blowing gently against the damp skin. “Do that, for me, Peter. Come for me.”
He slammed into her, his erection hardening just before his orgasm hit. He gave a guttural cry, erratically thrusting into her, his body quivering, and she brought her arms around him, holding him to her as he rode his orgasm out.
He finally stilled, breathing heavily, his body covered with sweat; Rose ran her hands up and down his back, her hands slick against his warm skin.
He took a deep breath, turning, brushing a light kiss over her cheek. “You’re a minx.”
She smiled, moving a hand to brush his hair from his temple. “Maybe I am. But I don’t regret it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Good.” She smiled, rubbing her hand through his hair affectionately. “Besides, I know perfectly well you’re the one who seduced me tonight.”
He pulled back, looking at her in surprise. “Me?!”
“You. You know I can’t resist the scruff.” She ran her hand across the growth, giving him a mock stern glare. “And yet you insist on showing up here, looking like that...how was I to resist?”
“If it bothers you so, I’ll not do it again...”
“Hmmm. I somehow doubt that. But as I rather enjoy it....” She leaned up, kissing him, sitting back.
He grinned. “I suppose I’ll have to visit you more often here at work.” He leaned around her, reaching for the box of tissues she kept on her desk, before taking a step back.
“That would be lovely. I know I’ll not be able to look at my desk quite the same way again...” She stood, scooting around him, looking for her skirt.
She straightened, and was met with the comedic vision of Peter standing, semi-naked, a huge ball of tissue in his hand. He looked lost, and she grinned. “That can go in the dustbin; they burn everything, and will be ‘round to empty it out in a few hours.” When he seemed to hesitate, she added, “If it makes you feel better, there’s a men’s loo just down the hall; that rubbish is burnt as well.” He still looked adorably confused-or, perhaps, embarrassed-and she felt her heart clench.
She walked to him, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For...being you.”
He blushed. “You’re welcome, then, I suppose.”
She stepped into her skirt, zipping it; Peter watched her, before tucking the wad of tissue in his pocket and getting dressed as well.
Once they were both presentable again-and after she neatened her office for the weekend-she walked him down the hall. He ducked quickly into the men’s loo, before taking her hand and walking with her the rest of the way down the hall. “What would you like to do tonight, Miss Tyler?”
She pressed the call button for the lift, looking at him. “I think...that I’d like to go home. And then I think that I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Is that all?” He leaned forward, brushing a light kiss over her lips.
She pushed onto her toes, whispering against his ear, “And then I want seconds on dessert.”
The lift dinged, and the doors opened; she stepped through them, turning, reaching her hand out to Peter, pulling him to her. She pressed the button for the undercroft, and sighed happily as he hugged her. She could definitely get used to this.
Rose’s mobile trilled; she looked down at it gratefully, hurriedly removing it from her hip. It was Peter. She gave a semi-apologetic smile to the specialist before answering.
“Hello.” Peter’s warm voice came down the line, making her blood heat up.
“Hello. I’m, ah...still in a meeting. I’m sorry. Where are you?”
“In your lobby. Torchwood’s lobby, that is.”
“Stay there. Someone will come get you.”
“I’ll not be going anywhere without you,” he answered mildly, humour in his voice. She felt herself blush.
“Tease.”
“I love you, too. See you in a bit.”
He rang off before she could reply, his chuckle the last noise she heard. She shook her head, smiling. The specialist cleared her throat, and Rose glanced up at her, her smile fading. “Just one more minute.”
She rang Mickey, hoping against hope he’d have stayed late. Jake was across the world at the moment, and Mickey always worked late when his partner was out of town.
“H’lo, Rose.”
“Heya. I need a favour-Peter’s in the lobby, could you let him in?
“Ah...Rose, you know I can’t...” Mickey’s voice was apologetic, and she hastened to correct his misapprehension.
“I got his information into the system this morning. He should be cleared for an appointment badge. If you could just meet him; he’ll have no idea where he’s going.” Not even Jackie Tyler could get into Torchwood without prior clearance-but, by providing some basic information about a person in advance, guests could be given prior clearance and ‘badged in’ upon their arrival. Jackie’s information was on file with Security, so often did she stop by to visit Pete or Rose; Rose had provided Peter’s to Jacques that morning, asking if he could be entered in to the visitor system.
“Oh. In that case, I’ll leave him in your office.”
“You’re a superstar.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rose clicked her phone shut, returning her attention to the woman sitting impatiently across from her. “Sorry. I have a guest. Will we be much longer?”
They weren’t, the specialist clearly put out that Rose didn’t have all of the time in the world. Twenty minutes later, Rose was in the lift, returning to her office, her mind already skipping along to where she and Peter could go for supper. The bell dinged for her floor, and she stepped off to find Mickey waiting to get on.
“Thanks, Micks.” She leaned in, brushing a kiss over his cheek.
“You’re welcome. More than welcome.” Mickey was grinning, and she felt her heart sink.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. And you should be grateful.” He held his hand out, holding the lift doors open. “He’s in your office, and I’m out of here for the night. See you Monday.” With that rather odd non sequitur, Mickey stepped into the lift, breaking out into a grin as the doors closed.
What on earth was going on? She walked down the deserted corridors, unsure of whether to be worried or just...confused.
The door to her office was closed, and she slowly pushed it open, her uncertainty growing. What had Mickey done to Peter?
Only her desk lamp was on, the lights of the city bright through the windows. Peter was sat at her desk, reading-one of his history books, she was sure; as she stepped in he glanced up, a smile gracing his face.
She felt her body react immediately, and she suddenly understood what Mickey had said. He’d not shaved for at least a few days, dark growth covering his jaw; his hair was tousled, and he was wearing a simple button-down shirt. He looked divine.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she replied, walking around her desk. He stood, still smiling at her; she dropped her notebook on her desk without looking and reached forward for him, pulling him towards her for a kiss.
“Well, hello there.” His voice was filled with good humour as they pulled apart, his eyes sparkling in the light. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She reached up, her hand cradling his jaw, her fingers lightly rubbing against his scruff. He looked like he usually did at the cottage, when he was so completely relaxed. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, gazing at him. “You look...you look...amazing.”
He blushed, ducking his eyes to the side. “I’ve been up in Scotland these past days.”
“Ah.” She scratched her fingers through his beard, her lips quirking. “’s everything ok?”
“Right as rain.”
There was an odd note to his voice as his eyes returned to hers. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. ‘m sorry I didn’t mention it.”
“You don’t have to report to me, you know.”
“I know.”
“Good.” She leaned up, her lips brushing across his cheek. “I love it when you look like this.” She splayed her hand across his chest, bracing herself as she pushed up onto her tiptoes.
She heard his breath catch, felt his arm come around to hold her to him. “I might be aware of that fact, yes.” He had tilted his head down, his lips whispering against her hair.
“I...might not be able to keep my hands off of you.” She turned, brushing her lips across his skin.
“Mmmm...then perhaps we should go somewhere a bit more...”
“We...there’s no one here.” She felt dangerous saying it, her heart beating like mad. Peter had said, months before, that he’d dreamt of shagging her in the squad room in Kendal. She’d dreamt, more than once, of making love to him in her office.
He pulled back, gazing at her, his eyes dark and his expression serious. “Rose...this...we can’t...can we?”
“We could...”
“Aren’t there cameras in here?”
She giggled. “Not in the offices, no. Only in the conference rooms.”
“Ah.” His lips curved upwards, his smile seductive. “Then are you suggesting we do something untoward in your office, Miss Tyler?”
“I think I am, Mr. Carlisle.”
He leaned down, his lips crushing against hers; she let out a small, startled noise before relaxing against him, leaning up into the kiss. His hands slid down, finding the opening in her jacket; she felt them slide up to her shoulders, guiding the worsted wool over her shoulders and down her arms. She moved, helping him to take her jacket off as she continued to kiss him.
The jacket fell to the floor behind her, and she reached up, her fingers deftly working the buttons of Peter’s shirt. She felt him shift, his hands on her hips; he turned them, backing her against the desk, before moving his hands to unbutton her blouse.
Peter had foregone a vest, and she smiled into their kiss as her hands rested against his chest, sliding over the bare skin she found; he finally finished unbuttoning her blouse, and pulled it apart before pulling her flush against him.
She braced her hands against the edge of the desk, breaking the kiss and tilting her head back; Peter smiled, brushing kisses down her neck, the stubble at his jaw adding to the sensation of his lips against her skin. He continued kissing in a line, finally bending and drifting his lips across to her breast; she drifted her hands to his hair as he began to tease her, lightly rubbing his jaw across the silk of her bra before turning and pressing his tongue against the peak of her breast.
She flexed and relaxed her hands in time to the ministrations of his tongue; she could feel herself begin to ache for him, her knickers growing wet as he continued to tease her. She finally gave a gentle tug on his hair, pulling him back up to her; his eyes were glazed and his lips glistened in the gentle light from the lamp.
Her heart clenched with love for him as she met his gaze, as her eyes drifted to his lips. She brought her hands to his jaw, pulling him towards her for another kiss; he complied, eagerly kissing her, pinning her in place with his hips. Her hands drifted around his torso, coming to rest on his arse, pulling him flush against her as she ran her tongue across the roof of his mouth.
He groaned, and she felt her lips curve in triumph.
“If I didn’t know better, Miss Tyler, I’d think you were seducing me,” he whispered, moving his lips across her jaw to her ear. She kept her hands on his arse, holding him in place.
“I am seducing you, Mr. Carlisle,” she whispered, brushing a kiss over the corner of his jaw.
“Ah, so long as we’re both clear on that.” He brushed his tongue over the soft skin of her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth and sucking gently.
“Crystal clear,” she gasped, bucking her hips against his. She felt his lips curve.
Arrogant sod.
She rotated her hips; he gasped, and she felt another smile cross her lips.
He pulled back, his eyes nearly black. “I don’t have...I...” His eyes were slightly unfocused as she bucked into him again, and he leaned forward to crush his lips against hers.
She returned his kiss, teasing him once more with her tongue, before moving to whisper, “But I do.”
He scrambled back, his desire for her evident; she leaned forward, her hand cupping him lightly. “Take these off, and I’ll be right back.”
Her purse was tucked in one of the cabinets, and she hurried over to find the condom she’d tucked away in her wallet a few months after she and Peter had started having sex. He was a passionate man, and she had learned to always be prepared where he was concerned.
She returned to her desk to find Peter unzipping his trousers; he held her gaze as he slowly slid the fly down. She placed the condom on her desk before moving her hands forward, reaching to help free him from his pants. He stilled her, holding her gaze.
“And what of you?” His voice was incredibly low, and she felt a flash of heat at the intensity of it.
She licked her lips, her mind going blank for a moment. What of her? He released her wrists, moving his hands forward; she was ineffably grateful that she’d worn one of her skirt suits that day, as Peter reached around her to find the zip. She rested her hands against his chest once more, allowing him to undress her, the skirt sliding with a soft sound in the otherwise silent room. Peter slid his hands forward, his fingers dancing along her suspenders, his eyes drifting downwards to look at her stockings.
She shifted her hands, reaching forward, taking his erection in his hand, even as his fingers found the line of her knickers. She lightly held him in her palm, stroking him gently, his hardness warm and comforting in her hand. He moved to rest one hand on her hip, the other continuing to explore the line of her knickers, teasing her.
She tightened her grip on him, her thumb rubbing the tip of his penis as she picked up her pace; he closed his eyes, tilting his head back, his hand going still. She leaned forward, arching her back, brushing her breasts across his chest. “Peter, I want you to shag me.”
She placed the tip of her tongue at the corner of her mouth, licking her lips as he straightened, as his gaze found hers. He bent down, kissing her briefly, before pulling back and reaching for the condom.
She released him, taking the condom from him; as she opened the packet, he rested his hands on her hips and guided her to sit on the edge of her desk. He slid in between her legs, his eyes watching as she rolled the condom onto him; she met his eyes as she finished. She held him as he pressed forward, guiding him to her, her eyes never wavering from his steady gaze.
He pushed her knickers aside, the tip of his erection coming into contact with her entrance; he pressed gently into her, just enough for her eyes to flutter shut, and she brought her hands up, around, bringing them to rest on his naked arse. He pushed fully into her, his hips pushing flush against hers, and she felt a wave of heat roll through her.
“Rose.” He held in place, his voice soft; she blinked her eyes open, and looked at him. He’d had to crouch just a little, to be at the right height for the desk, and had braced his weight on his arms. As she met his gaze, he pulled out of her, pausing just a moment before sliding back in and pulling out once more. She fought to keep her eyes focused on him, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation of Peter making love to her on her desk. He reached up, cupping her cheek, and he leaned forward even as he pushed into her again.
“I love this, Rose.” He came to a stop, buried fully in her, and she felt her breath catch. He pulled out, taking a breath. “I love making love to you.” He slid into her once more, rotating his hips. She gasped, her hands clutching at his arse, her back arching. “I love how naughty you are tonight.” He pulled out, drove into her; she felt a moan escape her lips. He pulled out again, pausing long enough that she opened her eyes, seeking out his gaze. He met it, burning, and began to rhythmically drive into her. “I love seeing you in front of me; I want to see you come for me,” he whispered, his hand snaking in between them.
She moved her hands, bracing them on the desk, providing leverage as Peter drove her to orgasm. His fingers pressed against her centre, stroking in time with his thrusts, teasing her by rubbing small circles every now and again. She could feel her orgasm building, knew she needed more; she shifted quickly, hiking her thighs over his hips, locking her ankles behind him. “Peter, I need you. Harder...faster...please...” She could hear the need in her voice, only wanted him to drive her to release; he began to slam into her, pressing further now that the angle had changed. She tilted her head back, concentrating on the sensation of him pushing her closer and closer, of the motion of his clever fingers against her centre, of the feel of his penis sliding into and out of her, of his hips pressing against hers so intimately...
Her orgasm crested, washing over and through her; she sobbed, begging him to keep going, to not stop, to never stop. He continued to stroke her as he increased his rhythm, his lips crashing against hers as he worked to prolong her orgasm, as he drove himself on towards his own. He slipped his hand from in between them, bracing his hands on the desk as he pushed harder, reaching for his own release; Rose slid a hand into his hair, moving to run her tongue over his ear. “Peter, I love this.” She sucked briefly on his earlobe before continuing, “You, inside me, against me...I love how you feel when you come.” She nipped at his ear before blowing gently against the damp skin. “Do that, for me, Peter. Come for me.”
He slammed into her, his erection hardening just before his orgasm hit. He gave a guttural cry, erratically thrusting into her, his body quivering, and she brought her arms around him, holding him to her as he rode his orgasm out.
He finally stilled, breathing heavily, his body covered with sweat; Rose ran her hands up and down his back, her hands slick against his warm skin.
He took a deep breath, turning, brushing a light kiss over her cheek. “You’re a minx.”
She smiled, moving a hand to brush his hair from his temple. “Maybe I am. But I don’t regret it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Good.” She smiled, rubbing her hand through his hair affectionately. “Besides, I know perfectly well you’re the one who seduced me tonight.”
He pulled back, looking at her in surprise. “Me?!”
“You. You know I can’t resist the scruff.” She ran her hand across the growth, giving him a mock stern glare. “And yet you insist on showing up here, looking like that...how was I to resist?”
“If it bothers you so, I’ll not do it again...”
“Hmmm. I somehow doubt that. But as I rather enjoy it....” She leaned up, kissing him, sitting back.
He grinned. “I suppose I’ll have to visit you more often here at work.” He leaned around her, reaching for the box of tissues she kept on her desk, before taking a step back.
“That would be lovely. I know I’ll not be able to look at my desk quite the same way again...” She stood, scooting around him, looking for her skirt.
She straightened, and was met with the comedic vision of Peter standing, semi-naked, a huge ball of tissue in his hand. He looked lost, and she grinned. “That can go in the dustbin; they burn everything, and will be ‘round to empty it out in a few hours.” When he seemed to hesitate, she added, “If it makes you feel better, there’s a men’s loo just down the hall; that rubbish is burnt as well.” He still looked adorably confused-or, perhaps, embarrassed-and she felt her heart clench.
She walked to him, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For...being you.”
He blushed. “You’re welcome, then, I suppose.”
She stepped into her skirt, zipping it; Peter watched her, before tucking the wad of tissue in his pocket and getting dressed as well.
Once they were both presentable again-and after she neatened her office for the weekend-she walked him down the hall. He ducked quickly into the men’s loo, before taking her hand and walking with her the rest of the way down the hall. “What would you like to do tonight, Miss Tyler?”
She pressed the call button for the lift, looking at him. “I think...that I’d like to go home. And then I think that I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Is that all?” He leaned forward, brushing a light kiss over her lips.
She pushed onto her toes, whispering against his ear, “And then I want seconds on dessert.”
The lift dinged, and the doors opened; she stepped through them, turning, reaching her hand out to Peter, pulling him to her. She pressed the button for the undercroft, and sighed happily as he hugged her. She could definitely get used to this.