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And then he does it again, and again, and then his teeth gently clamp down onto my nipple, and when he starts nibbling me, all I can do is plead for more.
His hands are on my hips, holding me where he wants me as he tortures my breasts with his mouth. All too soon, my breasts are swollen and tender, aching and heavy from the things he’s done to them, and he’s still not done. He’s savoring one nipple, and my head is back, taking in every bit of the pleasure he’s giving me, when I feel him cup my pussy in one big, warm hand. I buck against his hand, and he hums in appreciation.
“So fucking wet for me, Poppy,” he murmurs. “Soaking wet, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I manage, just as his fingers find my clit. He presses a finger to it, and I gasp. He rubs circles over and around it, and I swear I’m going to lose my mind. I’m so close to coming, the need to come so intense that I’m practically on the verge of tears.
I’m thrusting my hips toward his hand, and he lowers his mouth to my breast again. One thick, long finger slides into me, and I scream as my first orgasm hits. It seems to go on forever, and Nathaniel is clearly not done. He starts pumping his finger into me, hard and fast, and I’m almost ashamed to find myself riding his hand, chasing another orgasm.
Just as I’m about to come, Nathaniel stops. He straightens, then gently pushes me back on the chaise lounge. We’re at the end where there’s an arm, which slopes down to the seat with a plush gray velvet cushion. He settles me the way he wants me, my pussy up in the air, exposed to the cool air of the gallery, my thighs spread open, one thrown over the back of the chaise, the other foot resting on the floor. He steps back, looking at me. I’m blushing. I've never, ever had a man look at me like this. It feels dirty, naughty to be doing this in this place, with him looking at me like he’s about to fuck me so hard I’ll forget my own name.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what, Poppy? Please fuck you?”
I nod, and he smiles.
“Soon. There’s something else I need to do first.”
I’m about to ask what that is, when he lowers himself to his knees between my thighs.
“Oh my God,” I whimper, and then I feel his tongue tracing my slit. I moan and then scream as he slowly, firmly licks my clit. He does it again and again, and I feel that orgasm building again. My hands find my breasts, and I can’t help pulling and tweaking my nipples as he devours me. So close. So close… and when he slides two fingers into me as he uses his tongue on me, I fall apart, screaming his name, my orgasm so strong I swear I can’t see for a moment. My orgasm ends, but he’s still there, doing evil, delicious things with his tongue, and when he sucks my clit into his mouth, I can’t take it anymore. I try to push at his head.
“It’s too much. I can’t… please,” I beg. He gives my clit another couple of long, slow, intense sucks, then pulls back. He gets to his feet and looks down at me, spread open for him.
“You taste so damn good, Poppy,” he says. And then he pulls me up and lowers his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his lips, on his tongue, and it’s the sexiest, most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. “I could spend all night with my face between your thighs, making you scream for me,” he murmurs against my lips. I whimper, and he deepens our kiss as his hands trail down my body, over my back, to my ass. He grips my ass in his hands, pulling me toward him. I can feel his erection pressing into my belly, and I moan. He’s massaging my ass cheeks, his fingers getting d
angerously close to touching me where no one else ever has.
I press myself closer to him, and he groans. He pulls back, then pulls something out of his pocket. I recognize the foil packet immediately, and my pussy throbs in response. He’s not done with me yet. My body is so sensitized, so tender from what he’s already done to me, but I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.
He unbuttons his pants and unzips his fly, and I realize he’s going to fuck me while he’s still fully dressed, suit, tie, and all, and somehow that makes this all the more erotic. His cock springs free, and I moan. It’s long, thick, and I know he’s going to fill me completely. I watch as he rolls the condom onto his cock, and then he turns me around and bends me over the arm of the chaise. I grip the cushion and wait.
“So wet again, Poppy,” he murmurs. “Are you never satisfied?” he asks, and there’s a hint of humor in his dark voice. “Look at you. You’re dripping for me.”
I bury my face in the cushion of the chaise lounge, mortified, and more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. No one has ever talked to me this way.
“So needy,” he murmurs. “So ready to please me. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. His hands are on my ass again, massaging, spreading me, and the thought that he’s looking at me, that he’s seen every part of my body this intimately, briefly has me wondering how I’ll face him when this is over.
He gives my ass a not-so-gentle pat, and I moan for what seems like the fiftieth time.
“Now, just relax,” he murmurs. And then his hands are on my hips, and before I can think of anything else, he enters pushes himself into me. I cry out as he stretches me, fills me so full I swear I’m about to split. The pain is sharp at first but then starts to recede.
“That’s it. Take it all, darling,” he purrs, and a moment later, I feel his balls pressing against my clit as my body tries to accommodate him.
I have a momentary flash, a twisted memory, of seeing my father fucking his secretary just like this, her bent over his desk, and it hits me, that it’s happening all over again—the older, more powerful man rutting the younger woman like an animal.
And then Nathaniel starts to pound into me harder, and it falls away, buried under my need for him.
“Oh God oh God oh God” is all I can manage as he slowly pulls out and then slips back into me, and I scream. “Again. Please do it again,” I beg, and he does, thrusting into me over and over again, giving me exactly what I’ve needed since the moment I first laid eyes on him. He’s holding my hips so firmly I wonder if he’ll leave bruises, and deflowering my sensitive, aching pussy as if he’s lost his mind, grunting with exertion and desire.
And then he starts taking me faster still, hammering into me, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and presses me down firmer, holding me in place as he takes me. This sense of being dominated, of being used, has me coming so hard I can feel my own juices wetting my thighs.
“That’s it, my little virgin. Come all over my cock,” he growls, and then I’m coming again, as if all he had to do is command it and it would be so. When I come down again, he turns me over and reenters me. Now I’m looking up at him, my hips tilted up toward him, and he’s so deep in me that I know no man—definitely no man my own age—will ever be able to satisfy me this way again.
He’s ruined me. One good, dirty, naughty, cherry-popping fuck and I know no one will ever compare to him.
