“You gonna let me have you?” he growled against my lips, his breath hot on my skin. “Or you gonna keep pretending you don’t want this cock as much as I want to give it to you? Keep acting like you haven’t been thinking about this too?”
I should have been shocked by his crude words, by the raw desire in his voice. Should have pushed him away, told him this was inappropriate, reminded him of all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Instead, I reached for his belt with trembling fingers, my hands fumbling with the buckle in my desperation.
“You talk too much,” I told him breathlessly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His laugh was dark and pleased, rumbling deep in his chest. “That right? Let’s see if I can make you talk instead. Let’s see if I can make you beg.”
He spun me around roughly, pressing my chest firmly against the cool glass of the display case. The contrast between the cold surface and my heated skin made me shiver. His hands slid up my thighs slowly, teasingly, pushing my skirt up around my waist and exposing me. I felt him hook his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yank them down roughly, urgently, like he couldn’t wait another second.
“Fuck. Look at you,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, his hand sliding between my legs to explore. “Already so wet for me. Dripping. This pussy’s been waiting for me all day, hasn’t it? Tell me.”
“Stephen—” My voice broke as his fingers found my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make my knees weak and my legs tremble.
“That’s it. Say my name.” He pressed two thick fingers inside me without warning, and I moaned loudly, my palms pressed flat against the glass for support. “Want everyone in this town to know who makes you feel like this. Want them all to know you’re mine.”
“You’re impossible,” I gasped, but I was already rocking back against his hand shamelessly, chasing the friction, desperate for more.
“And you’re fucking soaked.” He withdrew his fingers abruptly and I heard the rasp of his zipper followed by the rustle of fabric. “Been thinking about this all week. All goddamn week. About how tight you’re gonna feel wrapped around my cock. How you’re gonna take every inch.”
I felt the thick, blunt head of him pressing insistently against my entrance, and I braced myself, gripping the edge of the display case. He pushed in slowly, torturously, inch by agonizing inch, stretching me open and filling me completely.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, his voice strained. “So fucking tight. Taking me so good, darlin’. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”
“More,” I demanded breathlessly, pushing back against him impatiently. “Stop teasing me and fuck me already. Please.”
His laugh was rough and approving, full of satisfaction. “There she is. There’s my girl. There’s that filthy mouth I love.”
He pulled back almost completely and then slammed into me hard enough to make the display case rattle violently, the glass vibrating under my palms. I cried out sharply, the sound echoing through the empty bakery and bouncing off the walls.
“That’s it,” he growled, setting a brutal, punishing pace that left me breathless. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back. Want to know how good this cock feels inside you. Want to hear every sound you make.”
“God, Stephen—” I couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, could only feel the relentless drive of his hips, the way he filled me completely and perfectly with every powerful thrust, the way his body commanded mine.
His hand slid around to my front, finding my clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. “You’re gonna come for me. Gonna come all over this cock while I fuck you in your pretty little bakery. Right here where you work. Where you sell your sweet little pastries.”
The combination of his filthy words and his skilled touch sent me spiraling out of control. My orgasm hit hard and fast, pleasure crashing through me in overwhelming waves. I cried out his name brokenly, my body clenching tight around him, pulsing.
“Fuck yes,” he groaned appreciatively. “That’s one. Give me another. Know you can.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can.” He didn’t slow down, didn’t give me a chance to recover or catch my breath. His fingers kept working my sensitive clit expertly, his cock driving into me relentlessly, mercilessly. “Come on, Trudy. Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
The second orgasm built faster, sharper, more intense than the first. I was shaking uncontrollably, my legs barely supporting me, but he held me steady and secure with one strong arm wrapped around my waist.
“Stephen, please?—”
“Please what? Please stop? Please keep going?” His voice was rough and demanding in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. “Tell me what you need. Use your words.”
“Don’t stop,” I gasped desperately. “God, don’t stop?—”
“Not planning on it.” His thrusts became harder, more erratic, losing their rhythm. “Gonna fill this pussy up. Gonna make sure you feel me for days. Every time you move tomorrow, you’ll remember this.”
I came again with a broken, desperate cry, and this time he followed immediately, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as possible. I felt him pulse inside me, felt the warmth of his release flooding me, and it sent another powerful aftershock of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard and ragged, my chest pressed against the cool glass, his body covering mine protectively from behind, his weight anchoring me.
Finally, he pulled out slowly, carefully, turning me around gently to face him. My legs were shaking badly, threatening togive out, and he steadied me with his large hands on my hips, holding me upright.
