She strokes my cock again and I kiss her hard, fast. I slide my fingers between her legs and find her soaking wet.
“I love being right,” I murmur. “I’d ask if you’re ready but I’ve already got my answer.”
“I just really like desks,” she teases, and I give her one more kiss then step around her, pushing her against my desk, one hand on her hips and the other already between her legs again, strumming her clit, fingertips nudging between her slick folds at her tight entrance.
She braces herself, arches her back. I can hear her inhale sharply, hips moving back as my fingers tease at her, asking me to enter.
Then, finally, a thought occurs to me.
“Shit,” I hiss, just as Thalia flexes backward again, taking me to the first knuckle.
“Inside pocket of my bag, all the way to the left,” she says without missing a beat.
I pull away for a moment, open her bag. Find the pocket on the inside, rummage through one side. Just pens. I rummage through the other, hoping, praying.
After a long moment where I find nothing but more pens and a few stray tampons in their wrappers, my fingers search out that square, shiny foil packet that I’ve come to know and love.
Thalia’s watching me, still bent over and arched, grinning like her plan’s come together and in two steps I’m behind her again, the condom held tightly in one hand, my cock nestled between the perfect globes of her ass as I kiss the back of her neck.
“You planned this,” I say, my voice low, raspy.
“I swear I didn’t,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder.
“I should have known better than to think you wanted to come say hi,” I tease her, my lips still on her neck.
“That’s been there since the night we made out in the library,” she says, laughing and arching against me at the same time and fuck she feels good. “I figured that sooner or later we were going to do this somewhere stupid, so we should at least be safe about it.”
It’s no wonder that I’m so desperately in love with this girl. She’s perfect.
I tear the condom open with my teeth, roll it down my cock while she watches me over her shoulder. When I’m done I slide my hand into her hair, move it from the back of her neck, and give her a long, slow kiss.
While I kiss her I tease her with my cock, sliding it between her lips, rubbing the tip against her clit, letting her push fruitlessly back against me while her breathing goes ragged.
Then, when I can’t take it any more, I find her tight entrance with the tip of my cock, look down, and take her with one long, slow thrust.
Thalia groans softly as I enter her, clenches around me as I watch my cock disappear inside her, holding my breath as I sink into her tightness until she’s taken every millimeter and I’m hilted, feeling her squeeze me like a fist.
Then I wait a moment, listening to her breathe, letting her adjust while I hold onto her hips, and after a few seconds she pushes back against me, asking for more.
I give her more. I do it slowly at first, pulling myself nearly all the way out before sinking in again, making sure I hit every single nerve center inside her. I do it carefully, adjusting the angle with every stroke until her moans are nonstop. I give myself to her and I look down and I watch myself fuck her because in the most pure, primal way I love watching my cock disappear inside her.
But I can’t be careful for long, and Thalia doesn’t need me to be. She moans and she whimpers and she whispers my name, bent over my desk.
She whispers oh that feels good and I fuck her a little harder, slide my hands under her shirt, and she glances over her shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted.
“Does it?” I growl, driving hard, deep, listening to the noise she makes. “Does it feel good to get bent over my desk and fucked?”
“Yes,” she says, half moan and half whisper.
“Does it feel good to make me lose my damn mind?” I ask, bending closer to her ear.
“Yes,” she whimpers, her breathing sharp, erratic. “Don’t stop, Caleb.”
She’s about to come.
“Please don’t stop,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t always beg me not to stop but when she does it’s her tell, a surefire sign that she’s close, ready to explode.
I drive deep, hard, and she tells me again, again and I wrap an arm around her, hook it over her shoulder, pull her back against me as hard as I can.
“Does it feel good to be my bad girl, Thalia?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she gasps, and then she comes.
There’s nothing like it in the whole world: the way she clenches around my length, the way she moans and whispers and says oh fuck, Caleb and pushes back against me. The way she loses control and lets go. The way she grabs my hand and presses my knuckles to her mouth, she way she practically collapses onto my desk.