Bewitching the Boss

I slip off the desk and slowly, slowly tug my skirt up to my waist.

Swaying my hips side to side, I peel down my panties, all the way to the floor. Then I straighten. I lean back against the desk and let him look at my bare sex. I’m dripping wet. Waxed. All for him. And he makes a hoarse noise, nostrils flaring, yanking hard on his collar.

“Do you know where to touch me?” I question quietly, taking hold of his tie and pulling, bringing his body closer. “Or do you want me to show you?”

“Show me,” he heaves thickly, palming my knees. “I-I should have researched it.”

I shake my head. “Every woman is different, Byron. But we all have one thing in common.” I take his right hand and guide it between my thighs. “We all have a clit. It’s small and sensitive. Hidden. And that’s where I want to be touched. By you.” I kiss his mouth gently. “Play with me. I’ll tell you when you find it.”

With a rough swallow, he parts my folds with his thumb—gently saws that digit once, twice—and finds my clit immediately. I gasp, seizing his wrist, petrified of the orgasm that’s already building, building. It’s monumental. “Th-that’s it. That’s it.”

His mouth smirks against mine. “That was fast.”

“You’re telling me,” I pant. “Don’t…d-don’t go too fast. I don’t want this to end so soon.”

“Jesus. Me either,” he mutters against my mouth, his thumb beginning to move again. Rubbing in slow circles, our breaths jagged, mingling between our pressed-together lips. And then we’re kissing. We’re kissing like the taste of each other will save us from certain death. He angles his head to the right and gives me his tongue, stroking it over mine reverently. Hungrily. And all the while, he fondles that little bud between my legs, faster and faster, increasing the pace of our kiss in the process. My head is spinning, not only because this is Byron, my Byron, my preoccupation, but because his touch is magical. Skilled in an inexperienced way that shreds my heart and whips my hormones into a fine frenzy at the same time.

“That’s so good, baby, so good,” I whine through my teeth.

He groans, sucks my tongue, rubs me harder. “I’m going to make you come?”

“Oh my God, yes. Yes.” Darkness rolls into my mind like a fog, swirling and creating a sticky layer over the top of everything. It takes over in a new way, spurred on by his mouth, his touch. “What kind of girl drops her panties in the middle of the day and lets you touch her? What kind of girl lets you look under her skirt during a first meeting?” I’m so close, so close. Desperate. But I…need something. Need something more. “Tell me what I am. Say it. Please.”

Byron blinks at me a moment, then becomes resolute. Determined. He surges forward, unexpectedly sinking his teeth into my neck. “What do you want to hear? That I’d love to put my big, fat cock in this pussy and ride you like a little slut?”

I have to slap a hand over my own mouth to trap the scream.

It comes from somewhere deep, deep inside of me.

Somewhere I didn’t even know existed until now.

Yes. Yes. I want to be his little slut. That’s what I was asking him to say, without realizing.

The orgasm is violent. Therapeutic. Revolutionary. I go blind, my flesh rippling and convulsing in ways it never has before. Relief escapes from me in a liquid deluge, dripping down the cheeks of my backside, onto my inner thighs and Byron’s hand. He is no longer stroking me, just pressing that thumb down on my swollen button, watching me come with a combination of triumph and ownership. I bask in it. I bask in his attention, open my legs wider and continue to field the full body pulsations that end right there. Right where he touches me.

“Byron,” I whimper, slumping against him when the calamity ends, my heart knocking against my eardrums, my ribcage. It’s everywhere at once and it’s so full. So heavy. Burning.

His arms tighten around me, crushing me close. “God, Jane. My God, I don’t know why I said that. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I asked for it. I loved it,” I say, raking my open mouth up his neck, taking his earlobe between my teeth and tugging. “I didn’t know I needed…that. And I just need it from you. Only you.”

I’m being too transparent. Too honest.

But I can’t seem to put my mask back in place when he’s just ripped it clean off.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I won’t say that to you ever again. I’m ashamed of myself. I don’t know what came over me.” His voice drops considerably. “I hate myself for still being so fucking hard after saying that vile word to you. For still wanting…”