Part 3
"You have to imagine
a waiting that is not impatient
because it is timeless."
- R.S. Thomas, The Echoes Return Slow
He leaned against his drawing board, a pencil tucked behind his ears and the sleeves of shirt rolled up. It had been a long day with new clients and difficult project proposals.
He sighed, letting his mind wander.
Of course only one thing had occupied his mind since morning- Zoya Farookie.
She pushed all his wrong buttons with her silly antics and loud attitude. And yet he couldn't stop thinking about her. He couldn't stop thinking about her long slender legs, her luscious locks of silky hair, her Bee stung lips l, her luscious waist..
Before he knew it he was slipping into his fantasy.
She had him pushed against the drawing table. Her fingers swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, tracing the exposed skin, earning growl from him.
She smirked, "Too rough Mr Khan?"
She leaned in placing open mouthed kisses on his bare chest, making him lose control bit by bit ; toying with his self control, making him a willing slave.
"Miss Farookie" , he whispered before flipping them over so that she leaned against the drawing board, her back slanted.
Her smile was mocking, inviting.
Unlike her, he had been a perfect gentleman in terms of wandering hands. Only lightly holding her waist and letting his hands linger on the slope of her neck.
"Mr Khan, afraid that you'd lose control?"She was taunting him, throwing an open gauntlet.
"Oh you really shouldn't have said that Miss Farookie." He leaned into her, pressing feathery light kisses on her bottom lips and slightly nipping at them, applying no pressure.
Every time she moved forward to deepen the kiss, he moved a bit back and continued brushing his lips slightly and tantalisingly slow against hers.
He lifted his hands from her waist, brushing against her sides finally threading it through her silky hair. Without breaking contact he placed leisure kisses on cheeks, then moved lower pausing at her pulse point making her shiver and tremble in his arms.
His hands moved back to waist except this time he met bare skin, his hand slipping under her shirt drawing slow circles on her smooth skin.
"Lost control yet, Miss Farookie?"
"You wish."
"Mr Khan."
But wait that wasn't her voice.
"Mr Khan?"
He snapped out of his retrieve. It was his assistant.
"Phone for you on line one, Mr Khan."
He sighed.
She's going to drive me insane one of these days.
130