“How’s it going?”
He walked up behind me and peered at the computer screen. A few lines of text, a blinking cursor and a big expanse of empty white space looked back, and I shook my head in frustration.
“I’m blocked. Nothing’s coming.”
He rubbed my shoulders gently, kneading the tension from my trapezius muscles.
“Maybe you should take a break?” he suggested. “You’ve been at it all day.”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward, savouring the feeling of his hands as his calloused fingers gripped my flesh.
“Hmm, but I wanted to get something finished today. The submission deadline is on Monday, and I really need to come up with a hot sex scene to end on. But…..” I made a frustrated gesture towards the monitor and sighed.
He worked his hands over my shoulder blades, then lightly stroked his fingers across my clavicle. My skin immediately prickled with goosebumps; whenever he touches me with that soft, grazing caress, I never fail to get the shivers.
Right on cue, my nipples hardened inside my cotton tank-top, and with some kind of sensual sixth sense, he seemed to know exactly how my sensitive nubs had responded. He slid his hand under the material, teasingly pinching and squeezing the puckering peaks, and rolling the weight of my full breasts in the palms of his cupped hands.
I could already feel the wetness starting to seep from between my legs, dampening the crotch of my knickers. There was a heavy, pulsing rhythm deep in my cunt as the blood throbbed and my inner muscles contracted.
I chuckled, and whispered, “and what exactly do you think you’re doing, mister, distracting me like this?”
He lowered his mouth to my ear, and with a warm molasses voice he murmured, “I’m thinking of giving you something hot to write about….”
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