Really? This is what we’re doing now? Shooting the shit about private games? We aren’t even friends.
“It was fine. Kinda stuffy. I prefer the floor, if I had a choice.”
“Not sure you do. Whatever Mr. Tacone wants, right?” Now I think he’s leering at me, like he’s suggesting I slept with Stefano to get into the private games. If he only knew all the kinked-out crazy shit I did with Stefano, he’d have his chin on the floor right now.
“Yeah, well, I’d better get to his office, then,” I say, sidestepping around the guy and heading for the security offices.
My heart speeds up even faster as I walk, but I hold my head high. Whatever’s waiting for me there, I’ll face it. Maybe I can even talk my way out of it.
Or maybe he’ll take me as prisoner again. I wouldn’t even put up a fuss.
But no. I saw the cool precision with which Stefano Tacone drew a gun and fired at a guy, hitting him square between the eyes. He’s not going to fuck around if he thinks I’m a real problem.
I tap on his office door and open it a crack.
Stefano turns from where he’s leaning on his desk, talking down to one of the managers. There’s no wink. No smile. Just a hard look and a sharp beckon with his hand. “That’s it, Joe. Get back out there.”
Joe gets up and leaves. I enter.
Stefano locks the door. When he turns and stalks purposefully toward me, I have to work hard not to flinch.
Even when he snatches me up by the waist, I still can’t tell the difference between passion and violence.
But then it’s clear.
His lips are at my neck, breath hot against my skin. He deposits me at the edge of his desk and pushes me over it. “You’re so fucking lucky you came to work early.” His hands roam up and down my hips, sliding the fabric of my black mini-skirt up to my waist.
Shivers spread over my skin. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”
He gives my ass a slap, then rubs away the sting as his other hand cups my mons. He slaps and soothes again, this time on my other cheek. I imagine the twin handprints he left and my pussy clenches. “Because if I had to watch you in this skirt all night without emptying my balls, the fucking you’d get at the end of the night would leave you incoherent.” He rubs his fingers over the damp gusset of my panties.
I squirm into his hand. The sex we had this morning feels like so long ago. Or it could be all the tension of seeing my dad and then thinking I was in deep shit with the Tacones is morphing into sexual energy. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s caught fire and is pooling in my core, peaking up my nipples.
He tucks his fingers under the gusset of my panties and strokes over my slick.
“What is this, Tacone?” I manage to pant. If I were smart, I wouldn’t let this happen. I think I half-expected we’d both pretend nothing happened.
He’s my boss. I like my job. This is a disaster waiting to happen.
He pinches my clit. “This is me bending you over my desk for a hard fuck.” He sinks a finger into my wetness. “Any objection?” A second finger.
I buck against his skilled touch. Yeah, refusing this isn’t an option. Not because I’m feeling coerced. Because I need everything he’s about to give to me. “No,” I choke.
“Good.” He works me over with his fingers, plunging them in me, rubbing my clit, slapping my ass. He keeps it up until I’m up on my tiptoes, thighs trembling with desire.
Then he drags my panties down to my thighs and unbuckles his belt.
For one brief moment, the fantasy of him whipping me with it flashes through my mind. I never thought I’d be into anything like that, but Stefano Tacone does it just right. My ass is still sore from the caning he gave me last night, and I still want him to spank me more.
But he’s not interested in punishing me tonight. He rolls a condom on and presses the head of his cock between my petals, parting me.
My teeth sink into my lower lip to stifle a moan.
He eases in slowly, filling me, inch by inch.
I hollow my lower back, encouraging him to sink in deeper.
He tortures me by reversing direction, nearly coming all the way out before he pushes in, a little farther this time.
All I want is for him to spank me and use me roughly. Like a cheap Vegas whore who isn’t worth anything more than her perfect Vegas body.
And I never let myself get used.
Ever.
But Stefano was right. Being tied up set me free. And now he doesn’t even need duct tape or zip-ties for me to soar. My body responds to his commanding touch. I let him bend me over and tap my ass because it feels dirty and wrong and perfectly right at the same time.