The Taste of Submission
I fingered the pen in my hand, the smooth plastic cool against my palm, a stark contrast to the fire burning within me.
I brushed my thighs together, the friction sending a shiver of anticipation down to my spine. My stomach twisted with a confusing mix of nervousness and pure, unadulterated need. I had wanted him for so long. I had plotted, I had schemed, I had fantasize about this exact moment for months. But still, no matter how much I pressed myself forward, no matter how subtly I tried to seduce him, he only saw me as his little assistant. As if I wasn't a woman, as if I wasn't grown enough to handle a man like him. I was twenty-three, for god's sake, a woman in my prime, yet he treated