I need him to fill this insatiable longing.
His hands glide down to my skirt, bunching it all the way up and taking notice of his second little surprise.
“Are you wearing a garter?” he says, his eyes growing more hooded by the second.
I throw my arms over his neck, forcing him to look my way. “Yes. Do you like it?”
“You could wear a fucking paper sack, and I’d like it,” he breaks eye contact, looking down at me, “but right now, I’ve never seen you look so God damn fuckable. I want to bend your sexy little ass over the desk and fuck you, hard.”
My eyes flutter closed, imagining it. It’s my exact dream: wanting him to fuck me like that. He grabs my thighs and pulls me off the desk, steadying me, before spinning me around until my front is at the desk.
“I think I’m going to do just that.” He shimmies my skirt the rest of the way up, and I go to step out of my heels. “Did I say to take those off?” His stubble scratches me as he brings his lips close to my ear, a shiver violently racking through my body. “You’re gonna leave the heels on while I fuck you.” He pushes my front down until I'm flush with the desk.
I expect to hear him fumbling with his belt, but instead, I feel his hands grip my ass, spreading it, and then his mouth is on my pussy. His hand reaches around and toys with my clit. My back arches, giving him an even better angle. “Weston, don’t stop. Please.”
His fingers replace his mouth, the sensation amazing and not enough all at the same time. “Does my girl need to be fucked senseless, now?”
He presses more pressure on my clit, and I try to answer, but it comes out as a garbled mess of moans and pleas.
He stands, and I hear the telltale sounds of a belt coming off and jeans dropping.
“You better grip that desk, baby, ‘cause I’m going to fuck you hard and fast.”
My hands shoot out to grip the curve of the other side of the desk, just as Weston slides in. My back bows, and my fingers tighten their hold. “Yes.”
This is what I wanted this morning. It’s in a different setting, but this is even better. In here it’s even hotter, with the added thrill of getting caught. It sends my pleasure to higher levels than I thought possible.
Weston groans as he sinks into me, over and over. The repetition feels like matches getting struck each time. “You look so good bent over in those heels, baby. You’ve been a little cock tease for weeks in those skirts and those damned heels.”
All this time I thought he hated my business attire and wanted me back in boots, now I know he might’ve, but only because it was turning him on.
He keeps one hand on my waist as he reaches forward and palms one of my breasts, working my nipple between his fingers. It adds too much pleasure at once, and the moan that erupts from me would be embarrassing if it didn’t immediately make Weston groan.
“God, you sound so fucking hot when you moan for my cock. I need you to reach around and play with that clit. I want you to soak my cock.”
His words are so fucking filthy that my body sets aflame. I reach between my legs and rub circles on my clit.
“Good girl, keep playing with yourself. I want you to come for me.” The hand on my waist grips harder as he thrusts deeper and deeper.
The fire in my core keeps burning brighter and hotter until I feel like I am going to explode. “Weston, I’m close.”
He keeps his rhythm steady. “Good, come for me, Sunshine. Let me hear how much you love being stuffed full of my cock.”
As if his encouragement is all I needed, the fire turns explosive and I feel my pussy clamp down on his cock, his groans echoing around the room. “You come for me, so good baby.”
This man knows my body like he’s the architect who designed it, perfectly sending me over the edge with ripples of pleasure still coursing through me as he joins me on the other side, his own moan adding to my pleasure. It’s otherworldly to know you make a man weak in the knees; the confidence that I get from him is staggering.
We spend a second catching our breaths, Weston's body covering mine. I’m not sure how long we stay there, but eventually, there’s a knock at the door, and my eyes shoot open. Weston slowly pulls out of me, and I can feel the trickle of come dripping down.
He comes back over me to kiss the side of my neck. My breathing is still erratic and coming in heaves. Whispering in my ear, he says, “Your pussy looks so damn good when it’s dripping in my come.”
He then stands, and with far too much annoyance, he says to the knocker behind the door, “Come back later, we’re on a call.” He pulls down my shirt as if that is the biggest problem we are facing. My shirt is ruined thanks to the button-ripping moment.
I turn, and Weston starts laughing as he takes me in, with a ripped shirt and disheveled hair. “Well, uh. I think that might be hard to explain.” He looks around the office, his thick brows knitted together, before he strips his T-shirt off and hands it to me.
“I don’t think this really goes with the outfit,” I say sarcastically.
“Okay, brat. I know that. But for now, we can say you spilled coffee on your white shirt, and I, being the gentleman I am, gave you mine.”
