I bobbed on him for a few moments, letting my hand stroke and twist with my mouth, my other hand gently but firmly massaging his orbs underneath. I felt one hand reach into my dress and wrap around my breast and the other fill with my hair. His groans were getting more desperate, faster. I knew he was about to climax, and I turned enough so that I could make eye contact again. His mouth was open as he prepared for his orgasm, and I let him guide me up and down.
He pulled me up, wrapping his fingers around my waist and pulling me back into his lap. He slid into me easily, and I rocked into his body again. He clasped my ass and pulled me, increasing my rhythm to a frenzied pace. It only took seconds before his body stiffened, and I clutched around him. My body responded with a third explosive climax as he exploded into me, and I milked him empty with my throbbing pussy. Finally, he relaxed, and I crumpled into him, letting him slide out of me.
29
Quentin
Just like the first time, as soon as we were done, reality seemed to hit both of us. It was like we got so completely wrapped up in each other and our primal need for one another, we forgot we existed in the real world we weren’t the only ones there. But when we were done, it crashed in around us and we had to deal with the consequences. The first of which was awkwardness and embarrassment as we scrambled to make ourselves presentable again. The last time at least we were inside. It was her office, which was wrong on its own set of levels, but at least we weren’t out in the open and potentially exposed to anybody who happened to come by. Now we were outside, and both of us rushed to smooth out our clothing and right ourselves.
I tried to look at Merry, to see what she might be thinking, but she wouldn’t look me directly in the eye as she adjusted her clothes and put them back in place as fast as she could. When she was put together again, she looked at me. The expression in her eyes was something I didn’t think I would ever be able to put behind me. I didn’t even know what it was. Emotions and thought processes were hard to read, like a storm swirling within her. There had to be something I could say. I had to be able to diffuse the situation, but there was no chance. She brushed her hand back through her hair and looked over her shoulder across the complex.
“I have to get back,” she said. “I didn’t really expect to be gone this long, and there are some things I need to do.”
“Merry,” I said, taking a step toward her. “We can’t just walk away from each other.”
“I’m sorry. I’m expecting a call, and I really don’t want to miss it,” she said.
It was a weak excuse, completely nonsensical in the situation. But it was obvious she was searching for anything she could find to disengage herself from the circumstances, from me. She was so uncomfortable she wanted to get away from me as fast as she possibly could and would use any excuse that popped into her mind. Before I could say anything else to her, she turned and hurried away. I stood there by the bench, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
How could I let that happen? How could I do it again? After everything I’d thought through, all the conversations, all the guilty feelings. After struggling through conversations with her and forcing myself to accept there couldn’t be anything between us because it was just too much. And yet somehow, I had so little thought and control I ended up right there all over again. Only this time, it was worse. Much worse.
I wanted her. That wasn’t even a question. I’d come to accept that and figured it was just going to be something that existed somewhere in the back of my mind until it fizzled out. Or it wouldn’t, and I’d just have to deal with it for as long as we worked together. Either way, wanting her and actually going after her were two different things. I definitely wanted to have her again, but outside on a bench? At work… again? How was it possible I could lose so much control over myself and my own responsibility that I let myself do that? What made it worse was that look in her eyes. The way she looked at me as she hastily got dressed and right before she ran off. It told me this wasn’t something we’d be able to just brush off again.