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The evening has gone south, swiftly.
You’ve gone from not needing to attend a cocktail party with your husband, to needing to attend, to planning to avoid Josh Lyman all night, to standing directly beside him at the party. Your husband is beside you, one hand on your lower back, the other holding a champagne flute. You're holding your own champagne flute as you feign interest in what they’re all discussing, desperately trying to ignore how close and how warm Josh is.
It’s only made worse when Toby and Sam are called away to speak with the president, and your husband leaves to grab fresh drinks for the two of you.
You’re left standing alone with Josh at your side. In a perfect world, if the two of you hadn’t quietly gone insane, you would expect him to excuse himself—but he steps around instead to stand toe to toe. His eyes sweep your body, gaze set on yours as he takes a sip from his drink.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” He comments.
“I wasn’t supposed to.”
“But?”
“Plans changed. I don’t mind,” You fib. “I knew there would be hobnobbing when my husband announced his intention to run for the senate.” You glance around, considering the crowd, and who may be watching the two of you. “Did you bring a date?”
“Why?”
“Curious.”
"Green looks good on you.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m not jealous.”
“Oh no?”
“Of the date you apparently don’t have? Of course not.”
Josh huffs a soft little laugh before he inches closer. You force yourself to hold still, though you know that you should move back. The two of you are unacceptably close, but any shift of discomfort could cause more undue attention than him being so near.
“Can I see you tonight?” He murmurs.
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You know full well why. He’ll be home, I won’t be able to get away.”
“Fake a call, tell him one of your friends needs a hand, got broken up with, something.”
“I mean it, Josh, I’ve gotta watch myself.”
“I’d rather be the one to watch—”
“He’s getting suspicious,” You warn softly. That makes Josh go quiet, his lips pressing into a line as he looks down at his glass.
“Is he.”
“I think it’s half the reason he asked me to come with him tonight.”
“Josh?”
The two of you turn your head to see CJ flagging him down. Josh gives a small nod, holds up one finger before turning back to you.
“Saved by the bell.”
He takes two steps back, eyes set on yours before he turns away fully, joining CJ. You give CJ a small smile when she shoots you a questioning glance before you turn away, trying to spot your husband in the crowd.
--
“I’m really sorry, hon,” Your husband says it twice, seems to try and mean it both times. You just wave him off, tell him that you understand, that you’ll take a cab, get yourself home. He’s taking the car to meet with the vice president for a concerningly late night meeting.
You watch him get into the car, blow him a kiss as he gets in, and track the car as he drives off, until he’s out of sight. You glance toward the valet as he comes back.
“Can I call you a cab, ma’am?”
And you should say yes, you know you should. But you’re moderately sure your husband isn’t the only one working late. You smile, giving a small shake of your head.
“Not yet, thanks. I just realized I left something inside.”
--
It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re relieved to be right. The light is still on in Josh’s office, and as you near it, you can see that he’s the only one inside. You don’t bother to knock, just lean in the doorway, allowing yourself to watch him for a few moments. He looks far less put-together than he had in the ballroom: tie untied, three buttons undone; his hair is puffier, as if he’s been running his hand through it.
When the two of you started this the year before, it was never meant to go for as long as it had. One argument had turned into a heated kiss, had turned into the two of you hooking up at your home. Josh had spent more time loving you thoroughly and making you cum in the last year than your husband had in your two years of courtship and six years of marriage.
You know that what the two of you are doing is wrong, and your husband’s rising suspicions should be enough to keep you away.
But when Josh glances up and does a double-take at the sight of you—when the little furrow in his brow smooths, and his eyes sweep across your body again—you remember just how terribly screwed you are.
“Get turned around on the way to the bathroom?” He asks. You roll your eyes, stepping into his office and shutting the door behind yourself.
“Close the blinds.”
“Why?” But he’s already up and shutting them. You reach down, fingers closing around the tie on your wrap dress. You wait for him to face you again before you undo it. You let it fall open, revealing the green lace teddy beneath, along with garters holding up your black stockings. Josh rounds the desk slowly, eyes sweeping your body as he deftly locks the side door to his office.
You step further into the office, meeting him in the middle and guiding him back against his desk. You look down, undoing his belt, button, and zip before you lower yourself to your knees. Josh doesn’t say a word, doesn’t ask what you’re doing. He just watches you closely, hands planting back on his desk as you pull his pants and underwear down.
You smooth your hand over his thighs, peering up at him from beneath your lashes as you trail your tongue over his hardening cock. Josh pushes his breath out, head tipping back. You grin, taking him into your mouth and beginning to suck his cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, teasing his balls, and fighting back a giggle as Josh’s hips jolt a touch.
You hum, drawing off of him and grasping his shaft as you dip your head, lapping over his balls.
“Take me back in,” Josh urges, resting his hand on your head, “Come on, just—Ah, that’s it, yeah.”
You hold still as he thrusts into your mouth, fingers sinking into his thighs as he guides your head up and down his length. He holds you down for a moment, groaning as you gag. You splutter as he lets up, blinking up at him through the tears in your eyes.
“Fuck, get up here, c’mon,” He orders, wrapping his hands under your biceps and drawing you up. You wobble slightly as you get your feet back under you, kicking your heels off. Josh turns you to lean back against the desk, swiping a few items away before steering you back. You hear pens hit the floor, are moderately certain it’s joined by the crash of a mug and the spill of notebooks and papers as you let him crowd you back onto it. He grasps your hips, drawing you to the edge of the desk before he’s dropping to his knees, hoisting your hips over his shoulders.
You bite your lip as he groans deeply, pressing his face into your thigh for a moment.
“Fuck, crotchless?”
“Is that a problem, Mr. Lyma—Ah,” You let out a shaky laugh as he sucks a kiss to your lips. You lift your leg, propping your foot up on his desk and baring more of yourself to him. He nuzzles against you, fingers smoothing up your body and over your breasts. You grasp his wrist, taking two of his fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them.
Josh groans, swiping his tongue over your clit. He draws his hand back, sinking his spit-slicked fingers into your aching pussy. You whine, pushing your hips down into his touch as he feasts on you. He tips his head from side to side, sucking your clit in short, harsh bursts as his arm pumps.
“Josh, c’mon,” You plead, “Need you, please.”
He’s standing before the plea is fully out of your mouth, fumbling with something in his pocket. A foil packet is retrieved, ripped open with his teeth, and you watch him roll the condom on before he takes himself in hand.
The first thrust has you sagging back onto his desk, fingershooking in the fabric of his button-down. Josh’s hands grasp your hips, and you can feel him watching you. You arch your back, whining as he sets the pace. You bite your lip, trying to tamp down your moans as he bows over you, brushing and licking where your breasts are peeking out from the teddy before he sucks one of your nipples through the fabric.
He draws off with a groan, hand settling on your throat and giving it a squeeze as he plants his other hand beside your head.
“Look at me—Hey,” He focuses you with another squeeze to your throat, and you force yourself to open your eyes, peering up at him. “Who’d you wear this for, hm?”
“What?”
“When you put this on under your dress tonight, was it for him or was it for me?”
You whimper, sliding your hands up into his hair.
“You, Josh.”
“Yeah? You swear?”
“I swear—”
“Got all dolled up just for me to fuck you over this desk?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” You breathe, “Knew you’d be there tonight, I wanted—Hoped I’d see you.”
Josh growls low in his chest, hips pounding into yours hard enough to rattle the desk. You curl your arms around his shoulders, drawing him down for a messy kiss. His fingers sneak between your thighs, swiping across your throbbing clit as he keeps up his relentless pace. You gasp softly, meeting Josh thrust for thrust as you feel yourself growing closer.
“You’re gonna fucking cum, aren’t you,” He murmurs against your lips. “I know that look—Yeah,” He chuckles. “You always go so quiet on me, baby. Look at that little—Mmm,” He hums, catching your slack lips in a kiss and teasing his tongue between them. “That’s it, pretty baby, cum all over my cock, all over my desk, fuck.”
Josh lifts his hand from your throat, grasping the far edge of his desk and using it as leverage to thrust harder. You slap your hand over your mouth to quiet your cries, eyes rolling back as you cum, clenching around his cock as the pleasure comes over you in waves. You feel Josh’s hips stutter, slam, and then slow as he settles over you. He rests his forehead over your pounding heart, touch wandering you reverently.
“Can you stay a couple minutes?” He murmurs. You consider, hands smoothing over your scalp. You really, really shouldn’t. You don't know what time your husband will be home, shouldn’t risk it. If you’re caught, it’ll be a scandal—for you, your husband, Josh.
“Yeah. I can stay a couple minutes. Why?”
Josh hums, pushing himself up. He gently eases himself out of you, kneeling back down in front of you.
“I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again.” He thumbs along your still-pulsing slit. “I need my fill of you while I know I can get it—Goddamn, I was right,” He murmurs, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs.
“About what?”
Josh blinks up at you dopily, pressing a kiss to your mound.
“Green looks good on you.”