Page 43 of In His Office

When I was done, I sat back and leveled him with a look.

“Do you need something, my little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” I whined.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded.

“I need to come,” I whispered, the words too shameful to be said with any volume at all.

His dark eyes stayed on mine. His irises were stormy, like waves of an ocean breaking against a rocky shore in the middle of a hurricane. I shifted on my heels, my bare pussy pulsing in the open air, my panties tangled around my knees.

Then he pushed his chair back and offered me a hand.

It felt dangerous to take it. I glanced at his hand and then back at him before I finally braved it and placed my fingers within his.

He pulled me up gently, ensuring that my head didn’t hit the top of his desk, but as soon as I was standing, he yanked me towards him, took a seat in his chair, and tossed me facedown over his knee.

I yelped when the flat of his hand slapped both sides of my bare bottom several times, stingingly hard, before his fingers dove in between my thighs.

There was no hiding my arousal then.

“Such a needy little whore, so sopping wet like this,” he observed out loud, and heat rushed to my cheeks. Balanced over his knee, I had no choice but to reach out with my fingers on the floor, leaving me with no recourse or way to defend myself.

His fingers toyed with my clit, and then he started to tease me exactly as I had done to him. Desire pooled in my core, swirling as my abs tensed and my thighs quivered with sensation. He varied the pressure, taunting me by lightly brushing over my clit and interspersing that with firmer touches that left my head spinning and my body molten.

He forced me to the edge of orgasm, and just as I was about to lose control, he removed his touch entirely.

I squealed with frustration, the cut of denial far more painful than I thought it could ever be.

Then he did it again.

And again.

And again, until I was begging him for mercy, and then he edged me some more.

I did everything I could think of. I apologized for teasing him. I pleaded with him that I couldn’t take anymore, and then when it soon became too much, I thought I was going to cry.

“Please, sir. Please have mercy,” I begged, and he lightly pressed his fingertips against my clit, just enough to push me to the precipice but not quite over it.

“If you want to come for me, my needy little slut, then you’re going to have to agree to something very important tonight,” he began.

My head whirled. I didn’t know what he could possibly want. Honestly, I would have promised my first-born child and my left kidney for whatever he was going to make me agree to just to come.

“Sir?”

“Tonight, you’re going to come home with me,” he said simply, and I started, not expecting such a thing. I thought he was going to make me promise to suck his cock or to do something in exchange for some sexual favor.

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I closed it. I wasn’t certain if he wanted me to come home with him simply because he didn’t like my small apartment, but I was proud of it. It was the only thing I could afford when I moved out to Seattle, and I was more than a little attached to it. Sure, it had its downsides, but at least it was mine.

Plus, there was the issue of my two cats. I’d have to go home to check on them.

His fingers never stopped moving over my clit, light and teasing and forever holding me on the edge.

I would agree now and deal with the particulars later. Maybe after we fucked, I would just slip out of his place and catch an uber home. I’d figure it out when the time came.

Now though, I needed to come. Badly.

“Yes, sir,” I breathed.

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