the biggest ᥫ᭡.

You’d packed your camera away just before 9 pm that night, and Jordan had said that he was probably going to head home soon, too.  But then you got talking, and he asked about your weekend plans, which somehow led to discussing your families and the holidays.  At one point, the two of you were just passing the ball back and forth, kind of making comments about the upcoming games he had, but mostly just staring at each other and smiling.  

You needed to set boundaries with him, like actual, solid boundaries.  Or this was just going to get worse and worse.  A workplace crush was fine as long as it didn’t get in the way of you doing your work; that had always been your mentality.  Work crushes made the days more fun and kept you entertained when you were stuck with your head down.  There was no way you could bend this statement to apply it to your current situation, though.  Jordan was your muse, 75% of your workday evolved around him.  He was the centre of your job and your biggest projects.  The fine lines that so often separated these parts of your life were blurred and almost invisible.  

You needed boundaries, or everything you had worked so hard to get would crumble around you.  It was on your to-do list, literally the second item under ‘get new toothpaste’ was ‘set boundaries with Jordan ASAP’.  You were going to the grocery store on your way home, and after that, it would be at the top of your list.  A bottle of Pinot Gris and rewatching Love Island were calling your name, alongside your favourite pen and journal that never went longer than two days without you scribbling in it.

The next week, you were determined to establish the boundaries.  This time, when Jordan and you bumped into each other, you kept an eye on your watch and excused yourself when five minutes passed.  

“You know I like talking to you,” you had said as you took a few steps away from him, you needed to create more space, “but I really have to get back to work.”

“Don’t let me hold you back,” Jordan smiled, throwing his hands up in a playful manner, “go be great.”  

You waved goodbye and quickly made your way back to your office.  It felt so wrong ending the conversation before you were ready.  It was like a full-length 80-minute episode’s script was stuffed at the top of your throat and waiting to be spit out.  On top of feeling like you could talk about a million other things with him, you were praying that cutting the conversation short didn’t come off as rude.  

Jordan wasn’t stupid, and you knew for certain that it wouldn’t take long for him to pick up on the fact that you were barely talking to him outside of work-related things.  You didn’t want him to think something had happened between the two of you, or that you didn’t like him anymore.  That wasn’t true.  If anything, you were starting to like him way too much.  But you couldn’t tell him, and you sure as shit weren’t about to blow up the boundaries you’d just set for yourself.  

“Are you good?” Jordan had asked you in your office after he’d approved a video, a few weeks after you’d implemented the boundaries.  “You’ve seemed a little off recently.”  

You smiled up at him, picking up a stack of papers to straighten and file away in your bottom drawer of used video ideas.

“I’m okay,” you reassured him, “things have just been really hectic recently, and I’m just trying to find a proper balance and routine, you know?” 

Jordan nodded his head in response, jutting his bottom lip out a bit as he did so.  “I feel you,” he nodded one last time before patting your door frame.  

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.”

With that, he disappeared from your office, and you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders.  You slumped back in your desk chair and blew air through your lips in frustration.  The same words that had been replaying in your mind over and over again came out of your mouth without you even thinking, as had become your new normal.

“He’s just a basketball player.”

Lying in bed without distraction was always the hardest part after a day spent working with or around Jordan.  Every time you closed your eyes, flashes of him flickered across your eyelids.  

Him training, him laughing, him wearing casual-wear, him in only his basketball shorts rolled all the way up, him drenched in sweat and zoned in, him carefully adjusting his clothes before walking out of the hotel for game-time fits.  You were documenting a majority of his life for this little PR project.  That meant there was little you hadn’t seen him do.  It made it so easy for your mind to spin tales higher than the trees are tall and longer than the river that runs through Tanzania.  

The scenes that untangled when you finally drifted into a light slumber were nothing short of creative and intense.  You could practically feel Jordan’s lips drag against the skin of your stomach as his large hands parted your thighs.  Your bed dipped and your sheets twisted under both your squirming bodies.  From dusk till dawn, your bodies were intertwined, your arms holding each other close.  Lips constantly almost touching, drifting over one another but never meeting.  

This was all that you wanted.  Your mind never let it fall too far away.  The issue was that you were sure Jordan had picked up on the way you looked a little too long when he was drenched in sweat and shirtless.  There was no reason for him to stand as close to you as he had recently.  Did he really need to see the photos you’d just taken right then and there?  

The smell of his cologne and his sweat was intoxicating.  You could practically predict how beautifully it would mix with the thick scent of sex.  You’d been drunk off of him in no time, eyes squeezed shut with his name passing through your lips over and over again while he pushed into you from behind.  Begging for more and more, you’d watch his hand disappear between your thighs, him forcing you to look him in the eye while he took what was his.  

You could see it unfolding anywhere.  You finally reaching your peak and locking the door to your office one day after showing him a video.  Jordan would be sitting there with his legs spread in some grey sweatpants.  He’d be leaning forward, watching the video intensely.  It would take everything in you not to stare at his crotch, wondering what was going on under there and if you really could deal with seeing him walk around.  He would approve of the video; he always did, but this time, when you would stand up, you wouldn’t start directing him out the door.  Instead, you would stand between his spread legs, put your hands on his shoulders and kiss him.  Hard.  

You sighed, rolling onto your side in your bed and gently caressing your own thigh.  You needed to stop getting so caught up in all these thoughts.  One day, it would backfire.  One day, a part of your daydream would slip into reality, and you would be fucked.  

One day, exactly like today.  

You were staying late again, it was an agreement you and Jordan had come to share.  He came and knocked on your office door when he was about to head down to the court.  It was just going to be him getting shots up, he reassured you, though it always was just him.  You joined him on the court after what felt like 5 minutes, but already,  Jordan had taken off his shirt, and he was drenched in sweat.  

He looked delicious.  You couldn’t help but stare.  Every part of you just wanted to pull him into the locker room and lick up and down every part of his body.  

“You’re staring,” Jordan said, standing in front of you, looking down at where you sat on the benches.  You looked up at him quickly, away from his beautiful torso and V-line that was right in your eyeline and made you want to pull down his shorts and take in every inch of him.  

“Now you’re really staring,” Jordan remarked, and you finally pulled your eyes away and looked up at him.  

“Sorry,” you mumbled.  You had sworn you did look away the first time.  “You just look really yummy.”

Your cheeks burnt the second the sentence left your mouth.  You had heard it, not in your head, but outloud.  And worst of all, so had Jordan.  

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you started blubbering as you apologised, shaking your head and avoiding looking at him.  You stood up quickly, not even thinking about how close you were to him, and suddenly, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down again.  

“Don’t be sorry,” he shook his head, that crooked smile, ever so charming, lulling you into a sense of security.  “I stare at you all the time, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and reached his hand out to cup your chin.  His thumb caressed your face gently.  

“I can’t help myself.  Sometimes, you just look too damn sexy, especially when you’re walking away from me, or when you’re tryna get the perfect shot.  You get this hard look on your face, and you’re completely in the zone.  Every time I see it, it makes me wanna kiss you.  Honestly, most of the time when I see you, I’m trying not to press you up against a wall and feel you all around me.”  Jordan’s doe eyes lazily drifted over you, taking in how you reacted to his words.  He smiled at you, as if he knew more than he should.  

“That’s exactly why I limit our time together,” you confessed, leaning into his hand.  “There are so many places I’ve thought about us, so many ways I’ve thought about you.”

“What about just now?  What were you thinking then?”  He cocked his head to the side and took the slightest step closer to you.  

“I was thinking about licking you all over,” you blushed, “licking the sweat off of you, following this line all the way down to your cock.” Your finger dragged along his V-line, and you felt yourself pulling closer to him.  

“You can, you know,” you didn’t dare look up at him, “I wouldn’t stop you.”

You nodded your head and cautiously moved your face closer to his body.  You stuck your tongue out and just kissed it over his skin, dragging from one ab muscle to another.  He was so salty on your tongue, so sweet and smooth, and perfect.  You moaned at the taste of him.  When you licked him next, it was longer, braver.  You found his V-line and licked both sides of his hips.  He brushed your hair out of your face as you did it, quite hums of pleasure pouring out of him.  

Then, like magic, you were on your knees on the hardwood floors and nothing hurt.  His shorts were down around his ankles, and his cock was in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat while he moaned and groaned your name.  

“Fuck, yes baby,” he spoke harshly in a way you’d never heard him, “take this big dick down your throat like a good girl.” You moaned at his words, opening your throat as much as you could.  

Your throat burnt every time he thrust into you, but you kept wanting more and more.  You grabbed at his hips and hollowed your cheeks.  You loved the feeling of his cock in your mouth; you could feel every vein, every ridge, and you couldn’t help but think about how that would feel in your pussy.   

“That’s it,” Jordan praised you as you swirled your tongue around his tip, spitting on top of him and playing with his balls, “you’ve been waiting for this dick, huh?”

“Oh, I’ve been dreaming ‘bout this dick,” you pumped him slowly, long strokes with his tip in your mouth, “you ain’t even had it, and this pussy’s all yours.”  

“Come with me,” Jordan said, helping you to your feet quickly, “we gotta go somewhere else for this.”  

You didn’t ask any questions but watched as Jordan quickly pulled his shorts up before grabbing your hand again and leading you away.  You followed quickly, your pussy calling out for whatever was coming, excited and ready for whatever was coming.  

He led you to your office, the last place you thought he would go.  He closed the door and locked it behind you, dropping his pants before he turned to face you and pushed you against your desk.

“I’ve had this exact dream,” you half moaned as he pulled your pants down, his hands rubbing up and down your body afterwards.  He groped your breasts with both hands, groaning at the feeling and bit at your neck.  Your head lulled back, and you breathlessly moaned his name.  

“Stop teasing me,” you moaned, turning in his arms, “don’t you want to be inside me?” You pushed your ass back into him, presenting your wet pussy for him.  He grabbed at your ass, spreading your cheeks and groaned your name before his hand landed hard on your cheek.  

“You want me so bad,” he teased, his hand pressing into your lower back so you would arch more, “you want me to fuck you right here, against your desk so you can remember me every time you’re sitting here, working.”

“Yes, baby,” you moaned, “I wanna be thinking about you and how you feel inside me every time I’m sitting right here.”

Jordan spanked you, mumbling something about a naughty girl to himself, “I’ve wanted to do this to you ever since that first night we met.”

“Stop teasing me, Jordan,” you pushed your hips back against him, this time feeling his cock against your ass cheek, “take what’s yours, baby, come inside this pussy.”

“You’re such a greedy girl, aren’t you?” Jordan teased, his hands now firmly on your hips, holding you in place.  “You don’t just want this cock, you want my babies too.”  his lips pressed against your bare shoulder; you didn’t remember taking off your shirt.  

You couldn’t even process what he’d say before he’d lined up his dick with your entrance and had pushed himself inside of you.  You called out his name loudly and started moaning like a pornstar with every steady stroke he made.  His groans joined yours as his hands moved around your body.  He groped at your tits, pinching your nipples and jiggling them, feeling how they moved with his stroke.  He watched your ass cheeks bounce back at every thrust of his hips, and he felt how you moved with him, throwing it back to meet you.  

He felt so deep inside you, stretching your pussy out.  It felt so good, so real.  It almost didn’t make sense when your phone started to buzz from your bedside table, your alarm echoing throughout your room.  

It was 5 am.  You needed to get up and get to the gym before work.  You needed to deal with how your body was burning for Jordan, begging for him.  You needed to pull it together.  

But still, you smiled to yourself as you dragged your hands up your torso and over your breasts.  You pictured the rough pads of his fingers and let out a sigh of content, and then a groan of frustration.

The season would keep moving, you reassured yourself, and once it ended, everything would change.  Boundaries would no longer push the two of you apart; in fact, you’d tear every wall down the second you handed in your letter of resignation.