“You hired me for a job that I intend to do well, no matter what we are truly getting ourselves into behind closed doors. You’re sexually frustrated, Ishmael. Not because you’ve been deprived, but because getting your dick sucked only made you want to slide into me even more than you already did before you left your home this morning, while you were at work all day, once you got off, and in the back of the car. Your wish is my command, Ish,” I explained, calling him by the name I’d heard his brother utilize.
I shoved his pants down his legs and placed my palms on the desk. With ease, I lifted the bottom of my dress and slid out of my thong. Ishmael was silent, allowing me to vent. Allowing me to give clear instructions so that my job was done well.
“I need your eyes on the prize at all times. Tonight, that’s not me. It’s Berkeley City’s Mayor. I need you sharp and prepared for anything that comes your way. You can’t do that with a soft spine and weak knees.”
I shoved my panties in his mouth, wadding them until I was certain he wouldn’t be heard beyond the walls around us because the walls around him were about to close.
He pushed my body against the desk, holding me by the neck. My desk met the cool surface. They hardened on contact.
He tapped his hard dick against my slit. Up and down, he rubbed it, lubricating his shaft. And, without warning, he entered me.
“Uhhhhhh–” I moaned, quickly regretting it.
Ishmael’s grip tightened, demanding I quiet down.
I stretched my arms across the desk as he stretched my pussy across his dick. On the tips of my toes, I slid my body backward, meeting Ishmael’s stroke.
He groaned against the fabric of my panties, reigniting the fire within me. I slid back and forth with ease. My rhythm was in line with his. He refused to have it any other way. He refused to release control. He refused to give me exactly what I was after.
Instead, his pelvic area collided with my backside.
Over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
“Ishma– uhhhh. Ishhhhhhmael,” I begged for consideration.
Whap.
Whap.
Whap.
Whap.
He gave me none. He was relentless with his strokes. My wetness coated us both.
“Plea— uhhh.”
He removed the panties from his mouth, never halting his movements or changing his rhythm.
“Shut the fuck up, Royce.”
He leaned forward, lifting my right leg. My calf laid against his shoulder, spreading my body wide. He managed to touch my soul from my pussy’s portal. I gripped his arm, trying my hardest to keep from tumbling over.
Ishmael’s hand was no longer at the back of my neck. It was at the front, squeezing me as I squeezed around him.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded.
His words were loaded with tension. I listened. My lips parted and my mouth fell agape.
Huwk.
