Love–Hate Relationship

It’s the last night we have to work on this campaign before we head out on the road. Everyone else has left the office. Which is not surprising, we’re both workaholics.

I check my Rolex. It’s midnight already. I straighten my posture and crack my neck. The release of the tension opens my senses up to the room around me. The desks, still and dark. The smell of paper, toner, and stale coffee.

Ah. At least my favorite person is still in the office. I glance over to your desk and see you stand up to stretch. Your grey silk blouse has become slightly untucked from your black slacks. It falls down your back, caressing it, outlining your curves and your muscles.

You walk towards me, tall and dignified as ever on those black stilettos. Just tall enough to be intimidating but not tall enough to be inappropriate for the job. You’re so good at walking that line.

I try and focus on the screen of my laptop. I refuse to give you the pleasure of knowing you have my attention.

“Still working on that stats analysis, rich boy?”

You call me that because you know it pisses me off. I pretend not to notice. Your voice has that twinge of smugness in it hidden under that perfect veneer of professionalism. If we weren’t office nemeses, I’d be impressed.

“Oh, you’re still here?”

“D’you have your shit together for tomorrow?”

I look up for just a second and your eyes immediately catch mine. Your hair is pulled back into your customary bun, but a few strands have escaped. No one but me would know that even the slightest dishevelment in your appearance means you’re cracking under pressure.

I turn back to my screen before those eyes can pull me in any more. You lean over the back of my chair, checking my work. You know I hate that. Another thing you do because you know I hate it. Your blouse grazes my shoulder and I have to will myself not to react.

A subtle fire burns in the back of my mind, but I douse it immediately. I’m just tired, I tell myself.

“You need to double check the Pennsylvania stats. I think you copied the demographics wrong.”

You lean in closer. One of those loose strands of hair tickles my neck. The fire inside of me burns a little hotter. I notice the sweet fragrance coming from you. What is that scent wafting off of you? Shea butter? Moroccon oil?

Am I…? No. No, I could never be attracted to you. Could I?

“Are you listening to me, rich boy.”

“I’ve already checked them three times.”

“Well, you need to do it again, because they’re wrong.”

I watch you walk away, my nostrils flaring. Your hips sway as you walk and your tight slacks accentuate every single movement. Too bad you and I are both single. Otherwise, we wouldn’t spend so much time at work and wouldn’t have to be around each other so often.

I turn back to my computer. I’ve got to get this work done before the start of the campaign tomorrow.

“I’m making coffee. Want any?”

Your voice is suddenly softer than usual. Probably because of how tired you are. I check my watch again. Almost 2AM.

“Yeah, uh, coffee actually sounds great. Thanks.”

A twinkle flashes through your eyes. And you almost smile. Why does my face feel hot? You turn away, reaching up to your bun, you give it a slight tug and your hair tumbles down your back, catching the light as you stretch your arms up to the ceiling. You turn back and catch me staring. Why can’t I look away from you?

“You alright, Simon?”

“What? Oh…yeah. Just…tired.”

I watch you walk into the break room and notice that you’ve taken off your heels. There’s something disarming about seeing you without them. You seem…vulnerable. Softer, maybe.

I let two or three minutes go by before finally getting up from my desk and making my way into the breakroom. You’re pouring a steaming cup of black coffee into a mug with your back turned to me. You turn around holding the mug and raise your eyebrows at me.

“Get Pennsylvania done yet?”

“No. Quit asking.”

I reach out to take the mug from you, but you pull it away.

“When are you going to get it done?”

God, you are such a brat. I step forward and reach to take the cup once more, but you pull it away yet again.

“Quit messing around.”

“Senator Aaronson isn’t going to be very happy if you don’t have it done by tomorrow morning.”

“I’m going to get it done. Now give me the mug!”

I stare in disbelief at you. Your childish antics, the very reason I find you so damn hard to work with, have gone too far.

“What the hell?! Look at what you made me do!”

“What I MADE you do? You’re the one who dropped the cup!”

We get closer and closer until you’re in my face. We’re both fuming, nostrils flaring, ready to admit out loud just how much we despise each other. But then, something very strange happens…instead of rage, another feeling takes over. I bend down slightly and press my lips against yours with an intense force. You kiss me back with an equal amount of frustration and desire.

I grab your waist and you throw your arms around my neck. We push our bodies together and unleash all of the pent up irritation. Just as suddenly as it started, I rear back and stare in disbelief at you. You look up at me like a cat surveying its prey.

Your eyes are still intense, as they always are, but in a different way. A deep, open, inviting way. Every inch of me is burning, aching for you.

Is this why I’ve always felt so competitive with you? Have I been mistaking sentiment for resentment this whole time?

You’re so close. You hold me captive in those eyes that are blazing like a fire.You like this, toying with your food.

“God, rich boy. Do I have to do everything for you?”

You grab the collar of my shirt and pull me towards you. You kiss me hard, moving your lips in rhythm with mine, pulling your body closer..

You rub the muscles under my shirt against your hands, your torso, your breasts. I can feel your heartbeat quickening and the heat pulsing between your legs as I explore your body with my hands.

“Now, that’s more like it, rich boy.”

You flash your eyes up at me as you rub your hand against the front of my pants, my cock is throbbing, getting harder with every passing second.

“Oh…fuck.”

You unzip my pants and bite your lower lip at the sight of my rock hard cock snapping up as you free it from my boxers. You run your fingers across it, feeling its smoothness and admiring my length.

You pull me against you, inviting me to take control. I push you up against the counter. Then unzip your slacks and hungrily slide my hand into your panties.

You’re so hot and wet. You bring my hand up to your lips to taste yourself on my fingers.

“My turn.”

I pick you up around your hips and place you on the counter. I pull your pants down to your ankles and reveal your tight red panties. They look expensive. Too bad you’ve almost completely soaked them through with your wetness.

“God, please fuck me.”

I rip your blouse off and toss it carelessly to the floor. You undo your bra, freeing your breasts for me. I suck hungrily at your nipples, licking them and grazing them with my teeth.

Oh, they’re getting so hard in my mouth. I quickly pull off my own shirt and toss it onto the floor. You grin in admiration at my muscular chest.

“Please, please fuck me.”

I press the warm head of my cock against your panties.

“God, stop teasing me, I want you inside me!”

“But teasing you is so much fun…”

I pull your panties down and you quickly kick them off. I push your thighs apart and guide the tip of my cock deeper between your warm folds. Finally, I slide my length entirely inside of you.

I thrust hard inside of you…before sliding out once again…and then…thrusting inside…and pulling out. You reach back and hold my forearms, digging your nails into me as I move faster and faster.

Oh, god, is that your g-spot I’m hitting? I’m hitting it perfectly, aren’t I? Right there in that sensitive little spot? You like that, don’t you?

Yeah, right there?

My cock throbs inside you and you just keep getting wetter. I grip the countertop tightly, using it as leverage so I can fuck you deeper.

You can feel it again, your climax building, rushing through your body like surges of electricity. You know I can feel it too, you know we’re both so close to complete, mutual ecstasy.

“I’m gonna make you cum. I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard.”

“Fuck, yes. I’m so close! Don’t stop!”

I kiss your jaw, dragging my lips down to your neck and sucking on the soft dip of your collarbone. I place one hand up against your breast and massage it hungrily.

God, you feel so fucking good. Bucking up against me, writhing against the countertop with need as I play with those plump pink nipples of yours.

I feel your inner walls tighten around me, squeezing my cock over and over again. It feels so good.

“I’m going to cum. I’m going to...”

The orgasm courses through your whole body and you moan loudly as you grind against me. You shake all over with pleasure as I ram myself into you over and over. It seems to go on forever. Finally, your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as your entire body trembles. A tremor blasts through you from head to toe and you collapse into my arms, panting.

“I want you to cum in me. Please cum in me!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m on the pill, just cum in me! Please!”

I thrust inside of you… a couple more times. Teasing the head of my shaft until...I cum hard, my body shivering and shaking as my throbbing cock empties itself inside of you.

We linger there, me still penetrating you. Both still trembling with pleasure. After what seems like an eternity, you pull away and slowly begin to gather your discarded clothes.

I do the same, wondering if we’ll ever speak of this again. Or if it will just be written off as a result of the campaign stress.

To my surprise, you move closer to me and kiss me.

It’s almost tender, the way your lips find mine. The pleasure is still fresh for us both.

“Well, we’d better get back to work shouldn’t we, rich boy?”

You give me that coy smile and your eyes flash. You shoulder past me, out of the employee kitchen, and leave me standing there alone.

Well, back to work.