My nails dig into his wrist. He watches, a half smile on his face as he works my clit, my hips bucking against his fingers as he takes me higher and higher.
“Say ‘thank you, Mr. Svensson’ when you come.”
Then there’s explosions as I gush on his hand.
“Go fuck yourself, Salinger,” I gasp as he milks the pleasure, still stroking me hard, leaving me shuddering and panting in the passenger’s seat.
He releases my neck, his hand drifting to grasp my breast. His other hand lifts to my chin. He slides his wet flingers over my lips. My mouth is slick with the salty taste.
His eyes narrow slightly as he runs his thumb over my nipple.
“You’d look better with my cum on your face.” He jerks his chin. “Lick it off.”
My tongue darts out against his fingers, now sliding in my mouth. My lips part, and my tongue swirls around them. Then he kisses me, tasting me.
Maybe it’s whatever was in those green shots, or maybe it’s that I’ve just had the most amazing orgasm of my entirelife while Salinger hadn’t even worked up a sweat, but I grab his tie, pull him down, look him right in the eye.
“So, does that mean you’ll be lickingyourcum off my mouth?” I can’t tell if he’s about to yell at me or slam me back into the seat and fuck me.
Instead, he smirks. “I like that you’re thinking of my cum in you.”
I am thinking of more than that as we drive back to his penthouse. I’m thinking of his whole, entire cock in me. I cross my legs. The zipper on the dress is jammed, and I have to hold it closed.
“I won’t make you do the walk of shame through the lobby.” He parks next to a silver McLaren.
Before I have a chance to put my bare feet on the cold concrete, Salinger’s there, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to the elevator lobby.
“Wow, special treatment.”
“Yeah, Imagine what you get if you let me come in your ass.”
“Whoa!” I struggle, wiggling out of his arms. My feet hit the floor, and I scamper away from him.
“You scared or excited?”
“Is that what we’re about to do? This is all just a little bit fast, don’t you think? Maybe I can just get a hotel?”
Now that I’m experiencing post-O clarity, my inner rule-follower is very unhappy about the prospect of sex with my boss.
Yes, but is anal sex really sex? The girls at bible-study camp certainly didn’t think so.
I scoot to the far end of the elevator lobby.
Salinger, an apex predator, watches me as he swipes the keycard to call the private elevator. Then he advances onme while I clutch at my dress. He crouches down then lifts me up right above my knees, flipping me over his shoulder.
“I told you, you’re staying with me this weekend. I clearly can’t trust you at a hotel.”
“I promise I won’t drink anything out of the mini bar or order room service.”
The hand not secure around my legs slides up my bare thighs. His fingers nudge against my panties then higher.
I let out a low moan as his fingers pushtherethrough the damp fabric.
“You’re getting wet again just thinking about my hot cum dripping down your legs, aren’t you?” he asks conversationally as the elevator dings, signaling our arrival.
A few soft lamps are on in the penthouse. His hands are still on my legs as he heads over to the wet bar, sets two crystal tumblers on the marble counter, and pours what smells like bourbon into them.
There’s the sound of glass scraping against the stone.
