I’m wet just thinking about him, can’t concentrate on anything other than trying to remember the sensation of his lips pressed against my sex and his sharp whiskers pricking my sensitive skin.
I lose my grip on a half-empty wine goblet. It slips to the floor and shatters, the sounds of breaking glass piercing through me. Damn it. Everyone looks up. My OCD mother in her pristine white skirt-suit rushes to clean up the red liquid soaking into the lush cream carpet, and party guests pile around me, trying to engage me in their conversation about the secrets to a good marriage. Perfect! Now I’ll never get away.
Throwing my arms in the air, I give up. I despise how my cravings have taken over everything, leaving me constantly focused on my wants instead of my needs. Want. Yes, I want him right now, even as my mother mops around my feet.
This is stupid. I’d taken hours to tease my hair into soft, spiraling curls. Pinned it up with cute diamond pins. I wore a new dress and shoes. I looked nice. So why would I want to ditch my sister’s engagement party for him? That would be such a waste of a pretty frock. And it would infuriate the bride-to-be, not to mention my mother. Then I remember the pretty peach lace corset squeezing in my waist and giving the girls a boost and I feel a grin spread. Shouldn’t put that to waste, either. Wiggling my butt, I relish in the tight pull of the G-string between my cheeks. He could be yanking that cord, pulling my knickers down to take me from behind.
I give in, can’t stand here any longer pretending I’m all sweet as pie when all I want to do is fuck the best man…again and again. I decide it’s time for a fix and swiftly exit the parlor of my mother’s Victorian semi to go look for him.
He is leaning against the brocade wallpaper decorating the hallway. He smiles at me from behind his long, dark bangs, twirling his bike keys over his decorated ring finger.
I swear, he looks all the more attractive wearing that ring.
Fixing tendrils of hair away from my face, I stand tall and slink toward him. I feel silly; never was one to get that accentuated sexy walk right. With my curves, I probably look more like a wobbling jelly than a sexy vixen. But my pussy leads the way; I am a slave to my cravings and don’t care how I look. He winks, turning me into a quivering pool of mush with the sex drive of a spring bunny.
“Hi, not enjoying the party?” he says, his voice all velvet and smooth.
I want him to grab me and kiss me hard. I want him to drag me into my father’s office behind him so he can fuck me. I want…
“No.” My pulse races. What might he do to me?
“Wanna get out of here, Amelia?”
“Yes, badly.” I step forward to pass him. He grabs my wrist and shakes his head, a smile so wide, teeth so perfect—the benefits of being a dentist, I guess. I’m thinking I’d like to reach up and lick his pearly whites, and my cheeks heat. “But I can’t.”
His grip tightens, hurts a little. I can’t decide if I like the pain. “My motor is outside, we could go anywhere you like.”
“I should probably go back to the party.” I wiggle and pull my arm, hoping to break free from his grasp. I don’t try that hard, as I’m not too sure I want him to release me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he croons, dark brown eyes glaring at me, skimming my body and stalling at my chest. “Been wondering what’s under that dress all evening.”
“My sister will notice we’re missing.” I’m a little worried, but mostly I’m silently begging for this hunk to throw me over his shoulder, to claim me.
He grabs my other wrist, spins me around and pins my arms above my head. I’m against the wall, and he’s leaning into me. His hard flesh is pushing at my delicate region, telling me his intentions are not honorable.
“Your sister won’t notice anything other than being the center of attention.” He puts his lips on mine and forces my mouth open with his tongue. I struggle to breathe, to keep my senses. His kisses deepen, and unbidden need throbs between my legs. A soft moan escapes me. I feel his mouth curl to a smile, and I wonder what wickedness he is imagining.
“I want you, right now.” He pushes harder into me, slides his rough hand under my skirt and up my thigh.
“No, really, I can’t do this. Everyone is watching.” For the life of me, I can’t think. Don’t want to think. My sex is throbbing, distracting me, driving me to the brink of insanity and dampening my knickers.
He manhandles me into the office. It’s dark. I can’t see a thing except for a line of light beneath the door. Metallic clinks echo, and I assume it’s him locking the door.
“No, seriously, we shouldn’t do it in here,” I say. I wait in the darkened room. He hasn’t made a move in what feels like five minutes. Shivering, not from cold but from nerves, I anticipate his touch. Crave his touch.
He turns the desk lamp on, his face illuminated in a soft orange glow from the bulb.
“Better in here than out there with what I’ve got planned.” He takes the neckline of my dress in his big hands and tugs until the material weakens and rips. My new dress, ruined. I want to cry, I should cry. Be angry or something, anything other than be a horny slut. An impossibility right now with his gorgeous browns glaring me over. “Take your shirt off,” he demands.
“It’s like that?”
“Uh-huh…now do as your master tells you and strip.”
“Yes, Sir.” I slip out of my dress, my skin prickling as the cold air skims me.
He looks me over. “I like how the corset stops short of your nipples.” Thumbing something on my father’s desk, he hums a happy tune. Paperclips? A wicked grin spreads over his face. Uh-oh. He’s thought of some amazing way to get my rocks off. Not good; I usually scream when he gets creative with pain delivery.
He bends the flimsy metal and wraps two clips around each of my nipples. My nubs harden at his touch, and tingle and tighten. Then a sharp pinch shoots from my breasts down to my crotch. Ouch. He’s clamped my nipples. He licks the tips of my nubs peeking through the metal, and he moans all gruff-like. Grr.
“Want me to bend over?” I ask, impatient to relieve the throbbing ache in my pussy and desperate to finish fucking before anyone realizes I’m missing.
“Oh, you know it’s naughty to tell me what to do.” He glances around, searching for his next makeshift torture device. Something catches his eye; a glint of mischief flickers across his irises. “Lie on the desk,” he whispers, unzipping his pants.
I don’t want to do as I’m told just yet. I’d rather wait to see his cock jut out. I’ve missed that hard, long shaft, and want it buried deep inside me.
Already, a pearl of precum is glistening on the tip of his shaft. I want to lick it off, to tease his head with my tongue, make him as desperate for release as I am. I slink toward him, but he shakes his head. I ignore his warning. In one swift movement, I’ve got his end in my mouth and I’m licking up the salty goodness.
He groans and hardens inside me. “On the desk, now,” he orders.
This time, I do as I’m told and lie on my back, heels of my shoes digging into the wood. Crap, I’m sure Dad will notice those dents in the morning.
He nudges my legs open and traces the insides of my thighs with one of my father’s bendy rulers. Each time, he draws closer to my moist slit.
He lifts it slightly, then brings it down my swollen mound with a playful spank. I yelp. He repeats the motion, harder. I yelp again. He teases me with the ruler, moving it in circles between my sensitive lips. And he spanks my pussy again.
“You like being naughty, don’t you?” he croons.
“No, Sir,” I cry, so desperate for him to be inside me.
“You do, you’re soaking wet. Just look at the mess you’ve left on your father’s ruler.” He licks the length of it. “Hmm, so sweet. You should taste yourself.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather taste you, Sir.”
Climbing onto the desk and between my legs, he then forces himself inside me. I relish in how my entrance stretches to accommodate him. He’s no small boy; he makes me feel full. Now deep inside, he rotates his hips and pulls out. Before I can react, he’s placed his cock at my mouth. “Taste us both, go on. And suck it hard, baby. I want you to beg my seed to come out. Do it.”
I don’t really want to taste myself, but I can’t resist his hard-on. I want to please him, want to draw him to ecstasy. So I wrap my mouth around him again and slide down his length. He’s wet, and my juices are smothered all over him. The mix of my sweetness and his saltiness actually tastes pleasant and I lick him from his head down to his balls, cleaning my own juices off him. Then I suck on him. Using my hands and mouth in unison, I work him hard toward spurting his cum. He tweaks at the clips over my nipples, the pain shooting straight to my pussy. I scream out with the pleasure/pain tingles gathering in my tummy. He tweaks them again and the pain explodes, permeating my whole being.
“Hm, you give quite the blow job, honey. Now get up and bend over, fast. I’m ready to come,” he orders.
I scramble to my feet, only too happy to oblige, knowing his always vocal orgasm will bring forth my own.
He spanks me with the ruler, then rams deep into me with his cock, momentum and grunting growing harder, faster.
His groaning and moaning makes me close to orgasm, too.
And then he squirts his thick, plentiful seed into me, warming me.
“Tighten those clips,” he demands. I do as I’m told and cause pain to once again shoot to my pussy and make me come over his length. My muscles contract and milk him for all he has to offer. I scream out, enjoying the postorgasmic nirvana and already thinking of the next time I can steal away a few moments to fuck him.
It’s my newly engaged sister and she’s gawking. “Can’t you leave him alone for a minute? Christ almighty, Amelia, anyone would think you guys are newlyweds!” Her fiancé pops his head around the door and cops an eyeful of me naked and bent over with cum dripping down my legs. He smirks.
My sister tsks, pushes him out and leaves us to it, shutting the door behind her. His voice is muffled, but we can still hear him. “I can only hope we’re as happy after five years of marriage.”
“Ha, he should be so lucky. Hm, I needed that…nothing like fucking my wife in her father’s office to make me come like a…” My husband pulls up his pants and spanks me. “I fucking love you, Amelia.”
“And I you.”