You sit at the far end of your bed, your back against the wall. The hungry look in your eyes give me the drive to move forward. I struggle with my nex... move to ask... no tell you to keep your hands to yourself. Teasingly I joke that I don't think you can hold out from caressing my body longer then a few minutes. Your growl in response is all I need as an answer. Flipping on a playlist I move to the end of the bed, slowly stripping off every article of clothing to the music. My body has come. "Anyway, we all know that you were doing most of his work lately so it really shouldn't affect us. Just carry on as normal. Oh and bring the bid to me when its done so that I can ensure it suits our needs."I felt my anger rising. Mark Thomas was a slimeball. He was about 24, tall and handsome and so full of himself that there wasn't room for anybody or anything else. He wasn't fit to lace Richard Greaves' boots. All he was concerned about was how Richard's death affected him.I didn't answer. I. More

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