I just can’t.
He falls back, laying against the floor. Grabbing my legs, he forces them together, thrusting back in.
“You’ll be mine soon enough, darling,” he says into my ear. I can feel my pussy grow wetter by the second.
“Is that right?” I ask.
“If you say no, I’ll make you mine,” he says.
Fuck…
I’m thrilled. I feel my excitement drip, butterflies flapping against my stomach.
His cologne fades into my nostrils, and my entire lower half turns warm. He’s a true man. He lives for money, power, and sex. That’s it. I don’t admire that, but it sure gets me off.
He throws me off and stands, towering over me. He bends, lifts my ass, and sets me on his desk. “Hello, Mr. Boss Man.”
I smile, running my tongue across my lips.
“Are you going to give me that promotion or what?” I ask.
“You don’t deserve a promotion,” he says, playing along. “But I have something better for you.”
“What is it?” I ask, eyebrows raised with curiosity.
“My cum. You will be covered in it by the time we’re done.”
I tremble as he forces my legs open, sliding his cock into me once more. He’s forceful and commanding, which is just how I want him to be. I don’t want him to ask if something feels good or not, and he doesn’t even think to. He just does what gives him pleasure.
He fucks me like the boss he is.
I hold on to his desk as a knot inside me swells and aches. The excitement turns into something more serious, more daunting. It takes over my body like a drug, or a strange, spiritual experience. It shoots upward and out, causing my nipples to tighten.
“I’m going to come,” I whisper.
He forces his tongue inside my mouth, and we kiss deep and rushed. Our saliva falls against our faces. We are messy and primal, feral to the point I can’t even recognize myself anymore.
I grab his belt and throw it around his body. He moves in closer, thrusting his cock in deeper.
I lose it.
I fall back with a loud thud, but he just keeps going. I’ve forgotten about everyone on the other side of that door.
“Coming!” I scream. “Keep… doing… that…”
He claws at my stockings, ripping them down the center. Finally, he puts both his hands on my breasts.
Leaning forward, he whispers, “You’re acting like a naughty girl.”
I shake, twisting. I writhe against his mahogany desk, growing so wetter I start to slide. I’m coming, and I can’t stop.
I’m stuck in pure elation, in pure happiness and contentment. And then, it washes from me.
I’m clear.
My cheeks are hot, and I’ve got the biggest smile on my face.
“You want it, don’t you?” he asks.