He's making no sense, but I don't care as he runs a hand down between my breasts and starts to move in, his mouth coming close.
Panic wells up, beating with sharp-tipped wings, but it doesn't douse the need.
If he kisses me, the game is over, and this becomes too real.
I tear free of his touch and bend over the desk, reaching back to pull my panties aside.
I can't let it be real.
"Punish me."
He pushes my thighs apart and comes down over me, his cock sliding thick between my thighs, and I almost cry out.
"You fight it, Lola, but you want my mouth on yours. I can taste it in the air."
"Don't ruin this," I hiss.
"Next time, you'll do all my bidding." And then he grabs my hips and plunges balls deep into me.
His invasion is made slick from my wetness, and I clamp down on him immediately.
Like this, he grinds my clit against the desk, his cock filling me and leaving me empty in his retreat before he plunges in again.
Enzo fucks me hard and fast, the strokes are borderline pleasure and pain, that dull thud of almost too deep that turns glorious as my body grows used to his powerful invasion.
The pleasure spears upward, bursting into a wild storm.
I shake and shudder, pushing out moans as I clamp down on him.
But he doesn't come. He grips my hips and starts to slam into me harder, shaking me, making me hit my clit harder on the desk.
He fucks me so hard the desk scrapes on the floor, and the intensity of too much on my clit starts to waver into something else.
I start trying to push back so I can get hit harder, and he just doesn't stop.
He fucks with everything he is, and I don't even know if we're playing secretary and boss or if this is just our control kink, and I just let go, coming again.
This time, he shoves in hard and grunts, his cock twitching in me as his hot cum floods me.
He stays like that for long moments.
"Lola..."
And I push out the words I need to say. "Anything else? Sir?"
He doesn't answer for long, long beats.
Then he pulls free and leaves me folded over the desk, ass up, pussy exposed, legs parted.
And I don't think I could straighten, even if I wanted to.
"I want you always dressed like this during office hours."
"In torn, drool-covered clothes?"
"Tempting," he says, amusement warming his voice. "But no. One of your business outfits. And you and I will be talking soon. Count to fifty. Then you can straighten and...stay like that, get changed, up to you."
"Yes. Sir."
