“Where?”
“This again?”
He attempts to walk past me, but I grab hold of his arm. Not that I can stop him if he wants to go but he does stop, looks at my hand then at me.
His phone dings with yet another message but he ignores it this time, turning his full attention to me and I’m suddenly not sure I want it. He walks me backward to the desk, placing his hands on it on either side of me when the backs of my legs hit it.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You need some attention? I’ll tell you what. I can spare a few minutes.” His gaze drops to my lips and I realize I’m licking them. “Bend over the desk.”
“What?”
“Bend over, lift your skirt and I’ll take care of you before I go.”
“That’s not…You’re a jerk, you know that?” I try to slip past him, but he captures my arm to stop me, ignoring another message notification.
“You wanted me. You have me.”
“Not like this.”
“This is what you get. You had a question.”
“You’re in no mood to answer it.” I squirm but there’s no getting away from him.
“No, I’m not, because like I said it’s been a really long fucking day. So why don’t you bend over the desk and at least make yourself useful.” He spins me around, swipes his arm across his desk to clear it, sending all the papers on top to the floor before pushing me down over it.
“Is this why you brought me? To make myself useful when you have long fucking days?” I say, looking back at him as he pushes the skirt of my dress up to my waist and my panties down over my hips.
I attempt to push the skirt back down.
“It’s one of the reasons.”
I hear another message notification and again, he ignores it. He captures my wrists, holding both in one hand at my lower back and lifting my skirt again.
He undoes his belt, his pants and I shouldn’t be fucking turned on, not like this, but I am.
“Besides,” he starts, lining up his cock at my entrance and keeping eye contact. “I like having you around.”
He slides his length into me and as much as I don’t want to want this, I’m wet.
“Fuck,” he groans, drawing the word out.
“This isn’t—” I start to protest but he pulls back and thrusts in, forcing the air from my lungs.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you come even though I shouldn’t.”
“How generous…” he slips a hand between my legs and I lose my train of thought, gasping with the contact.
“Don’t be a smartass. You want this as much as I do.”
I should to tell him to piss off, make him answer my questions but when he touches me like this I can’t think straight.
He thrusts again, fingers playing with me, fucking me harder than he has before. I bite my lip so as not to cry out as the sounds of our fucking, wet and lewd, fill the room.
“After I fuck this tight little cunt you’re going to get on your knees and clean my dick. What do you think about that, sweetheart?”
“I hate you.”
He leans over me and I feel sweat drip from his forehead onto my temple. He kisses my cheek, licks the shell of my ear. “It’s a good thing I don’t hate you, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer. I guess I’m surprised by it.
“Come, Cristina.” He’s breathing hard, fucking me harder, beads of sweat on his forehead as he straightens again. “Let me feel you come on my dick.”
I don’t want to come. I don’t want to want him or be turned on by him but god when he moves like this inside me and works his fingers over my clit, when I see his eyes darken, see the want inside them, I can’t help it.
I come.
And when I do, I feel him thicken inside me and he thrusts twice more then stills, a moan coming from deep inside his chest, eyes closed, ecstasy on his face as his cock throbs and he fills me up.
We’re both panting when he opens his eyes finally and meets mine.
“You are so bad for me,” he mutters, pulling out of me, cum sliding onto my inner thighs as he does. He looks down at my ass, keeping me bent over for a minute before turning me to face him. He cups my head with one hand, his other hand on my arm, eyes dark and intent. “So fucking bad.”
Pulling me toward him, he kisses me hard before roughly breaking away to lower me to my knees.
“What are you doing?”
“You mean what are you doing. You’re going to clean my dick, sweetheart.”
“What?”
He makes a fist of my hair and painfully forces me to look up at him. “Don’t bite.”20CristinaI’m not sure I’ve ever felt more humiliated.
Or more aroused.