He moans, lifting his pelvis to meet my movements. His hands are holding tightly to the arms of his chair, his knuckles stark-white. Low, rumbling groans escape his slightly parted lips as I press my body against his. I feel him shake against me with each breath he takes, straining to stay still and keep his hands off me. My body glides against him, swaying and pushing against his with a teasing pressure.
“If I come in my pants, it’s your own damn fault.”
I giggle, shaking it off instantly because I need to stay focused. I’ve never given a lap dance before and was actually worried walking in here that I wouldn’t be capable of pulling it off. But apparently, according to the reaction I’m getting from my sexy-as-fuck fiancé, I’m more than capable. I slide against his clothing, feeling him tremble slightly from the contact.
“You’re doing so well, Mr. Carroll. Only one more minute.”
Spinning around, I straddle one of his legs and lean in close. I hear his deep inhale as I brush my breasts against his face, letting him linger between them for several long seconds. His breath warms my chest, tickling between my breasts and instantly heating the area. He moans softly against my skin, his lips vibrating as he plants a gentle kiss to my breast before I pull back. I’ll allow that one touch, considering how good he’s being. I run my hands through his hair as I move to the beat, pulling on it slightly before I move down. Roaming over his broad shoulders, I squeeze gently and rub my hands down his heaving chest. His muscles contract beneath my touch, his torso pushing roughly into my palms. Aching for more. Begging for me to touch every inch of him. I’m insanely aroused right now, having gotten instantly wet when I stepped into this office. I’m certain my panties are drenched and I hardly care. I’m not stopping for anything.
His face is tense, jaw locked tight and twitching ever so slightly. This is killing him and I know it. He hates not being able to touch me, and the reality of just how much he hates it fuels my actions. That and the fact he’s actually allowing this torture to happen, giving me the control which I’m sure isn’t easy for him. I begin to move faster, my hips gyrating with purpose against his thigh as my leg brushes against his cock. Reaching down, I palm the front of him and he grunts loudly, his head falling back against his chair and the veins in his neck pulsing. His breathing becomes more strained, blowing sharply across my face as I lean into him. Our lips are close, so close that if I moved in we’d be kissing, but I don’t. I drag my body against his instead, rubbing my breasts against his face and down to his chest. My hand cups around his length and he jerks against my touch. I want his hands on me, I want him all over me, but I can wait. Being this close to him, seeing what I can do to make him come apart is making this agony worth it. He flexes his hands and pounds his fists on the arm rest.
“I’m fucking dying,” he grunts, dropping his head and brushing his face against my skin. “As soon as that alarm goes off, I’m bending you over my desk and fucking you harder than I ever have. Good luck walking out of here.”
Jesus. I stumble a bit at his words. “Do you want to see what you’re doing to me?” I ask in my best seductive voice.
He nods his answer, licking his lips.
Dipping my hand down the front of my panties, I slide along my wetness and moan softly against my touch. I swipe my finger across his bottom lip and he opens immediately, pulling my finger into his mouth and sucking softly.
“Kiss me,” he demands, his tongue running along his bottom lip. Fuck it. I lean forward and brush my lips against his, my soft kiss quickly getting overpowered by his rough one. He assaults my mouth with his, and we’re all tongues, lips, and sharp breaths in this moment. I wouldn’t even classify this as kissing; this is primal and borderline dangerous. My lips hurt from the contact but I don’t care. Nothing could pry me off this man. I bite down on his bottom lip and he groans into my mouth, the metallic taste of blood mixing with our saliva. It’s hot, really fucking hot, and I’m praying for the two minutes to hurry the hell up already. The alarm on his phone beeps and my stomach tightens, a soft gasp escaping my lips. This is it.