Mardi Gras by Lacey Alexander (reading the story of the TXT) 📕

“But there are consequences for girls who forget their undies when going to work.” She lifted one fingernail to her lip in faux worry. “What are they?”

“Well,” he said, his voice going lower as he stepped up to slide his hands smoothly over her hips, “it’s a known fact that if you forget your panties, your boss is going to fuck you.” Mia bit her lip, her body flushing with warmth. Glancing down, she could even see the reaction to her hot fantasy—her nipples had hardened not only in her imagination, but also in reality, now jutting through her bra and fitted yellow blouse.

She glanced again toward Ty’s office. Do you ever notice them? Do you know they’re like that for you? Then she sighed. Or does it only make you think I’m chilled, despite that we live in one of the hottest cities in the country?

She shook her head, then decided there was no reason not to sink back into her fantasy, especially since she’d just gotten to the good part.

“Kiss me,” she said.

No. That was too tame. It was fine for the more romantic daydreams she sometimes indulged in, but today’s imaginings were all about heat, so she changed it to “Fuck me.” Then she eased her ass onto her desk, parting her legs for him to step in between. As he worked to undo the buttons on her thin blouse, she reached for the snap on his jeans.

God, she loved it when Ty wore jeans. He ran a totally casual workplace, and most days found him in long, baggy shorts, but colder winter weather often brought out his blue jeans, and fortunately, the air outside was brisk today. She’d noticed the worn denim even in just the short glimpse of him she’d caught. She adored the way they 7

Lacey Alexander

molded lightly to his butt, and in front, to his sexy bulge. And speaking of sexy bulges…

Bending to kiss her, he pushed her blouse open, then lowered her bra straps from her shoulders so that the lace cups drooped enough for her breasts to tumble free. As he closed his hands over them, she finally got his jeans unzipped and spread wide, reaching in to pull out his big, hard cock.

“Oh, fuck me, Ty,” she said again, more urgently this time. Then she shared the truth with him. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His smile was warm, happily surprised. “Well, why didn’t you say so, baby?” Grabbing onto her ass, he curled his hands around her flesh, firm and sure, and drove his stiff shaft into her—wonderfully deep.

“Mmm,” she purred without quite meaning to.

“You say something, Mia?” Ty’s voice sounded from within his office.

She flinched. “Um, no. Just…talking to myself.”

Ty chuckled softly at her—that was the easy sort of relationship they had—then the office fell quiet again…

And he was in her again. Thrusting in smooth strokes, each one packed with pleasure. Mia closed her eyes. She was unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his chest, then pressing her bared, sensitive breasts warm against him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he was murmuring in her ear, low and sweet. “Why haven’t we been doing this all along?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered up to him, “but it was definitely worth the wait.”

“I want to make you come,” he said, sliding his hands further around her ass and lifting her up off the desk. “I want to make you scream for me, sweet thing.” And, of course, he knew exactly the right angle at which to hold her and exactly when to slow his thrusts as she writhed against him, approaching climax. “Soon, lover,” she cooed. “Very soon.”

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Mardi Gras

“Now,” he demanded so harshly it stunned her—and set her skin to tingling in a whole new way as he stared into her eyes, insisting on her orgasm.

Oh yes, she could feel it gathering, getting closer and closer, climbing higher, higher, escalated by his rough command, and by his eyes, his sexy, sexy eyes, until—”Oh!” she cried out as it overcame her—the hot, almost violent spasms of release rushed through her like a river of fire, and she bucked against him, riding it out, as he murmured, “That’s right, baby, that’s right.

Keep coming. You’re coming so good for me, sweet thing, so fucking good.” The trill of the phone sent her leaping from her seat as if someone had just stuck a tack in her butt. “Jeez!” she squealed, then pulled herself together and snatched up the receiver. “Bourbon Street Messengers.”

“Hey Mia, it’s Brad. Is Ty in yet?”

Their tax guy. It was that time of year. “Sure. Hang on.” She pushed the hold button, then called, “Ty—Brad on one.”

She could feel Ty’s grin as he said, “Uh, you okay out there?”

“Fine, thanks,” she lied, cheerful but short. She was sweating profusely from the fantasy, and from the shock of being jarred back to reality.

Then came his familiar chuckle. “After five years of answering the phones here, I wouldn’t think it would scare you so much.”

And after five years of me mooning at you constantly, I’d think you’d notice by now.

But then again, maybe he had noticed, and just wasn’t interested. She was Tim’s little sister, after all, and she was pretty sure Ty wouldn’t ever think of her in any other way. Which meant all her sweating was for naught.

Even now, she couldn’t help recalling instances of his brotherly affection. Although he had no qualms about dating every wild woman in their wild city, he was always quick to give his opinion if he thought she was dating someone who wasn’t good enough for her, or who “seems a little rough for you, sweet thing”, or “has one too many tattoos, if you ask me”.

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It always made her laugh, precisely because everyone knew Ty was no angel, yet he assumed she was, and he seemed to like her that way.

But those rough guys with tattoos, it turned out, were more her type than she’d even known, and they’d taught her quite a