Missy Johnson - Provoke

I shrieked and then clapped my hand over my mouth.

Holy shit!

I blinked and checked the text again. No, I wasn’t imagining it. I stared at the picture of Mace’s very erect penis on the screen. A very impressive picture. I bit my lip as I stared at it, a familiar ache beginning to stir between my legs as I fantasized about his long, thick, erect shaft.

How was I supposed to respond to this? How was I supposed to focus on work with that image in my head? A message flashed up.

Are you sure there is no way I can convince you to cancel this dinner? I’d love your ‘hands-on’ opinion on something.

I laughed, flicking back to the picture again. Definitely impressive . . .

You’re meeting my parents. Case closed. Now back to this picture you sent me. Definitely holding my interest at the moment.

I giggled to myself while I waited for his reply.

There’s more where that came from, baby. But you don’t get without giving a little . . .

No way. He wasn’t suggesting I do that here—was he? I glanced at the picture again, running my finger along the screen. Quickly, I unbuttoned my shirt, untucking it from my skirt. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked my bra and pushed my breasts forward, my arm tucked below in a bid to enhance them.

I can’t believe I am doing this.

Click.

I checked the picture and pressed send before I could change my mind. Sexting? So not me, but it felt naughty, and I liked that feeling. The phone rang almost immediately.

“Wow.” His voice was low and husky. “I am honestly shocked you sent that. I must be a bad influence on you.” He chuckled. A shiver shot up my spine. I slipped my fingers over my nipple and closed my eyes, imagining his mouth on my body.

“I can be unpredictable.” A soft moan escaped me. I blushed, embarrassed. Please don’t have heard that.

“Leets, are you . . . you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he said. I could hear the shock in his voice.

“Well, you started it with that damn picture,” I said defensively, my face heating up.

He chuckled, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. “You liked that, did you? So…what are you wearing?”

“You know what I’m wearing,” I smirked. “You saw me a half hour ago.”

He chuckled again. “That’s true. Where are you, then?”

“In a room. Alone.”

“Is the door locked?”

“No.” I glanced up at the closed but unlocked door. “But it’s shut.”

“So anyone can walk in and catch you?”

“I guess.”

 “Good.” A chill raced through me as I imagined someone catching me right then. “Are you wet for me, Leets? I want you to slip your fingers inside your panties and tell me how wet you are.” His voice was low and smooth. Was he touching himself too? Was he stroking his impressively hard cock while he was talking to me?

My heart raced as I lifted my skirt and slipped a finger inside my silk thong. I gasped. God, I’m so turned on right now.

“I’m wet . . . very wet,” I whispered. I repositioned my leg so my foot rested on the edge of the desk, allowing me to hitch my skirt up even further, the tops of my thigh-high stockings exposed.

I slipped a second finger inside my thong and began to massage, glancing toward the door every few seconds. If anyone walked in, they would cop an eyeful. This little show could potentially cost me my job, but right then, all I cared about was him, and my need for fulfilment.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Leets. Where is your finger? Is it inside of you?”

“Mmm,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “I have two fingers inside me. I’m imagining it’s your cock slowly thrusting in, then out . . .” I sighed, my rhythm speeding up. “God, I’m so wet, Mace.”

“Good, Leets. I like you nice and wet. Imagine I’m kneeling down in front of you, spreading your legs as wide apart as I can. I begin to kiss your thigh, slowly making my way up higher and higher, until my lips are kissing the edge of your pussy.”

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, panting softly. Holy shit, this is so fucking sexy. The combination of his voice, the feel of my fingers moving inside me, and the realization that I could be caught at any moment was insanely hot.

“Leets, I’m licking your pussy right now. My tongue is running along your entrance. God, you’re so wet. You taste so sweet, baby. So fucking sweet,” he gasped, his voice climbing higher.

Fuck. We were miles away, only a phone connecting us, and we were on the verge of orgasming together. It was impossible to put into words how intimate this moment was. My back arched as I began to climax.

“Ahh,” I groaned, thrusting my fingers deeper inside of me. My muscles tensed as both relief and ecstasy raced through me. I wanted more, but I couldn’t take it. If Mace were here, he would push me further to the brink, past what I thought I could handle, and into a whole other level of satisfaction. “Oh yes,” I hissed, bringing my foot back down to the floor, locking my fingers between my thighs, desperate to prolong the feeling for as long as I could.

“God, Leets. You had me blow my load all over the wall. That was unbelievable.”

I laughed, slumped over the desk, trying to recover. I glanced at my watch. Shit—I had fifteen minutes until I was due in court.

“I have to go . . . I have to somehow get myself together and try and win a case,” I said. I reached for the folder containing my notes, my hands shaking as I shuffled through them. I’m a mess.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “If you get flustered, just imagine my head between your legs.”

“Shut up!” I giggled, hanging up the phone.

Mace

Well, that had been a nice way to wake up. Who was I kidding? Every day started like that—the only difference was that this time Leets had been an actual participant, instead of a figment of my imagination. Picturing her in that office with her legs spread, exploring herself, had been fucking hot.

We have to do that more often.

I climbed out of bed and yawned, kicking aside the piles of worn clothes that blocked my trail to the door. I was still waking up, and in desperate need of a shower. I glanced down and nodded.

Yep, definitely need a shower.

Yawning again, I staggered down to the bathroom and ran the shower. The feel of the water hitting my skin was like an instant wake-up. I quickly soaped my body and rinsed off the suds before turning off the taps.

I probably should’ve gotten up half an hour ago, but oh well. It wasn’t my fault I got distracted. Wait—yes it was. I reached into the cupboard for a towel. Fuck. Empty. Glancing around, I picked up the cleanest-looking one off the floor.

Yeah, I should probably do some washing soon. Or buy some new towels.

Wandering back down to the bedroom, I turned on the coffee pot on the way past. As I got dressed, I called Finn to let him know I was running late.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ll be a few minutes late. Just start without me, okay?”

“Already on it. And you’re always late, man.”

That was true. One of the perks of owning your own business was being able to rock up late and leave early. I ran a business fixing bikes from the back of a mechanic in the western suburbs of Melbourne. It wasn’t much compared to Leeta’s achievements, but it kept me busy and I spent the day doing what I loved: being elbow-deep in grease and motor oil. 

I drank my coffee and downed a bowl of cornflakes—not hurrying as much as I probably should have—and then grabbed my keys and helmet. Walking out to the garage through the internal door, I zipped up my jacket and threw my helmet on.

Jumping on the bike, I started her up and took off down the street.

#

 “This guy has called twice.”

I took the slip of paper from Finn, recognizing the number instantly. No phone contact. What the fuck was this, then? My stomach tightened as I nodded, trying my best to appear indifferent. Finn narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.  

Finn was an old friend who also knew his way around a bike. He’d been working for me since I’d started up this business, and he knew me well enough to know something was up.

“Just a debt I need to pay,” I explained, my tone making it clear I didn’t want any more questions. Finn nodded and shrugged.

“Hey man, it’s cool. We all have debts we need to pay,” he said, clicking his tongue. I watched him as he walked off, chuckling to himself, wondering what the hell he was talking about. I shook it off and studied the number again.

I was pissed. These were their fucking rules, not mine.

I’d also made it clear that I didn’t want him calling me at work. If he needed me, then he had my mobile number. I loved Finn like a brother, but the guy couldn’t keep his trap shut. If he got even so much of a sniff of my business, all the guys would know within the space of an hour.

I screwed up the scrap of paper and shoved it in my pocket.

I’ll deal with this later.

#

“Hello?”

“Do you want to stop calling my work?” I growled. I kicked and empty bottle along the ground, checking back to the garage to make sure Finn wasn’t looking for me.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “I guess I forgot.”

“Right. Sure. So did you want something?”

“Just wanted to check how you were going. The boss is happy with your work. You’re bringing in some big sales, apparently. Consider this your three-month evaluation.”