“I thought about you all weekend,” he whispered. “How do you make me do that?”
I snatched up his lips again. I liked what he was telling me too much.
He grabbed the hair at the back of my head and pulled, exposing my neck again as he dived down and whispered against my skin, “When you walked in, dressed in that short little skirt, my fucking hands wanted these thighs” – he raked his fingers down my legs again – “almost as much as my mouth did,” he admitted.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the need becoming agony. “Mr. Marek,” I quaked. “Oh, God.”
I didn’t want to stop him, but…
I bit my bottom lip, feeling his fingers slide up and down my *, dipping and bringing out the wetness, spreading it over my clit.
And then whimpered, feeling two long fingers plunge inside of me.
“Shit,” I moaned, squirming against his fingers. “Please stop,” I pleaded. “Tyler, please.”
But he just added another finger, staring down and watching the pleasure of what he was doing spread across my face.
“Say it again,” he ordered.
I blinked, opening my eyes, even though his thumb rubbing circles on my clit was driving me wild.
“Tyler,” I said gently. “Please stop.”
His mouth curled into a smile, and he stole a kiss, nipping at my bottom lip. “You don’t want me to, do you?” he breathed out.
He increased his speed, flicking my clit faster and harder and curling the fingers inside of me, making me suck in air quicker and quicker and making me so needy I damn near gave in and begged to ride his cock.
“Tyler, oh, my God,” I cried, squeezing my eyes shut again and feeling my insides swirl and tighten.
“On second thought, call me Mr. Marek,” he insisted, and I popped my eyes open, seeing the devil in his grin.
I bit my lips between my teeth, groaning as I leaned back on my hands and slid my ass back and forth, fucking his fingers.
“Yes, Mr. Marek,” I breathed out, dropping my head back as the whole fucking world started to spin.
One of my heels dropped to the floor, but I couldn’t care less.
He continued staring down at me, looking like he was completely captivated with my face.
“You going to be nice from now on?” he challenged in a hard voice, rubbing harder.
“Yes, Mr. Marek,” I rushed out.
“You going to keep your temper in check?” His long fingers filled me up again and again.
I nodded frantically, feeling the orgasm coming. “Yes, Mr. Marek.”
“And I’m not done with you yet,” he warned. “Just so you know.”
I breathed in and out quickly, my body tensing and shaking. “Yes,” I cried out.
And then the orgasm exploded, spreading down my thighs and through my belly. I dropped my head all the way back, plastering my hand to my mouth to stifle the cry as I squeezed my eyes shut and let him rub my clit, bringing the orgasm to an end.
My legs, suddenly as shaky as Jell-O, released their grip on his waist and dangled off the side of the desk.
He kissed me, holding my lips for a few moments, and for just a few moments I felt like I did on Sunday mornings. When I woke up and realized I could stay in bed.
Content.
A small smile spread across my mouth, and I felt high from him.
He withdrew his fingers, and I was almost sad at the loss until he brought them up to my mouth, resting them against my lips. I opened, and I sucked each finger, my lips wrapping around him and cleaning off the proof of what he’d gotten out of me.
His thumb dragged out of my mouth, tugging gently at my lip, and I watched him watch me.
I blinked long and hard, letting out a sigh.
What the hell are we doing?
I couldn’t get involved with a parent, and even if I did, it couldn’t be him.
I enjoyed him too much.
I leaned up, planting my feet on the ground, both heels having fallen off. I straightened my underwear and smoothed down my skirt as he slowly buttoned up his vest and straightened his tie.
“I hope it’s smooth sailing for us from now on,” he commented, buttoning his jacket.
I nodded absently, smoothing my hands down my hair. “Yes,” I said, focused more on my messed-up appearance.
But his finger hooked under my chin and lifted. I raised my eyes, meeting his.
“Yes, what?” he prompted, looking stern.
My clit pulsed and started throbbing again, and I bit back the excitement warming up my chest.
“Yes, Mr. Marek.”
He leaned in slowly, kissing my lips once more, and then pulled back and looked down at me.
“Is my tie straight?” he asked, changing the subject.
I couldn’t contain the small laugh that escaped. It amazed me how he could go from hot to boyish in a matter of two seconds.
I reached up and fixed his black and gray tie and then straightened my back, again checking my dress and my hair.
But he tipped my chin back up, locking eyes with me. “You’re perfect,” he assured me. “Everything about you is perfect.”