He glances at me over his book. He arches an eyebrow and starts reading, “I can’t help myself from running a finger over their rims until a light ...w echoes into the room.” I circle my nipples in real life, picturing his voice as deep, thick and warm. I picture him curling his finger at me and I walk up to his desk. He shoots a glance at the desk and I make my way on top of it, my legs on either side of him. He puts the book to the side. He slides his hands up my calves then up the outer edge. “Stop and behave,” he instructed, “. . .before we get into trouble.” “I can’t,” I replied, “ . .and trouble is my middle name.” “You need to keep your eye on the ball,” he remarked. I took a swing and whack! My ball rolled fast and hard across the green, never getting off the ground. “You topped it,” he remarked, “but that’s okay, at least you connected.” I was freaking horny as hell. I sat back down in the golf cart, still holding my club. I propped my feet up on the front edge of the cart,. More

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