My legs parted easily for him to slip two fingers between them. He ran his fingertips along my pussy, covering my clit with my wetness.
“Because...” He pushed one finger inside me then added the other, kissing my neck. “You feel awfully ready for me, angel.”
I moaned and bucked against him. My clit rubbed against the heel of his hand, which heightened my pleasure, and as he thrust his fingers inside me, my hips moved against him until I was on the brink of orgasm.
He pulled his hand out of my panties and flattened it against the top of my thigh. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Didn’t stop you fucking me with your fingers just now, did it? Which, by the way, thanks. Or not.” I shoved his hands from me and stepped away, frustrated with both his quick change of attitude and the orgasm I was hovering at the edge of.
Was there anything worse?
No. I didn’t think so.
“Mia.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and groaned. “What?”
“How much have you been drinking?” His head edged to one side, and his gaze was contemplative, as if he were deciding if I was drunk or just slightly tipsy.
Slightly tipsy was the answer, for the record. But just drunk enough to let my lust rule my decision making. I was okay with that right now.
I snapped my gaze up to his. “Not enough.”
I was standing steady. I wasn’t seeing two of him. My words were clear. My mind was only slightly foggy.
He was right.
I would give in.
But I’d be fucked if it was on his terms.
I took the few steps that would close the distance between us, wrapped my arms around his neck, and planted my mouth on his. He paused before wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me right back. It quickly went from a simple touch to a lust-driven, desperate kiss, and I found myself staggering backward as he pushed me toward the desk.
He swept whatever was on it off onto the floor before grabbing my thighs and sitting me on it. West’s hand slid up to cup my ass cheeks and pull my hips forward so his hard cock was pressed against my wetness. I moaned as my clit made contact with his erection and pressed myself against him, but he pushed me back.
The desk was wide, and I could comfortably lie back on it. He leaned over me, allowing my arms to unlock behind his neck and my hands to trail down the sculpted mounds of his chest. My fingers explored every crevice and dip in his taut stomach, and they eventually came to rest at his waistband.
The whole time, he kissed me desperately and deeply, desirably.
I popped his button and slid one hand straight inside his boxers. My fingers immediately made contact with his erection, and my thumb pressed against the bead of pre-cum on the end, swirling it all over the head of his cock. It was the smallest amount but served as just enough lubrication that I could lean up, putting one hand behind me, and work his cock in my fist.
He groaned every time my thumb swept open the top, and I didn’t care about kissing him, not anymore.
If this was on my terms, it was fully on my terms.
I pushed him back, sat up, and jumped off the desk. He took two steps back and looked at me, one eyebrow quirked expectantly, like he knew exactly what I was going to do.
I dropped to my knees.
Pulled his pants and his boxers down.
And took his long, thick cock into my mouth.
His groan was loud and obvious, and he twined his fingers in my hair as I swirled my tongue around the head of his dick. The salty taste of his pre-cum lingered there, and I licked until I could taste it anymore. Then I rammed him to the back of my throat. I gagged, my eyes watering, but his grip on my hair tightened, so I held myself there as long as I could before pulling back and doing it all over again.
“Fuck!” he half growled.
I smiled against his cock and wrapped my hand around the base.
He could play with his words all he wanted.
I was playing for real—with my mouth.
His cock throbbed against my tongue as I worked him with my hand and my mouth. The tightening of his hand in my hair coupled with the gentle thrusts of his hips as he pushed himself farther into my mouth spurred me on, moved me faster, and made me take him deeper—until he yanked my head back and looked down into my eyes.
“Up,” he demanded, his voice rough and raspy.
I reached back and used the table to help me up as he kept hold of my hair. No sooner was I fully on my feet than West had pulled me toward him, his exhale hot on my mouth.
“Dirty girl.” His tone was still deep and rough. “Giving in already?”