“Say thank you.”
“For what—”
I slide two fingers inside her pussy, and the way she groans feels like a lick to the underside of my balls.
“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re making such a mess of my fingers. It looks like I’ll have to work harder to make you more contrite.” I press my fingers deeper, twisting my hand at the wrist. She begins to whimper and thrusts back against my hand. “What was that?”
“I said I’m s-sorry, sir. Please don’t stop.”
“This.” My fingers slip wetly away as I lean over her a second time, pulling a notepad and pencil from across my desk. My fingers glisten with her silky pleasure as I scratch out a note. “Read it,” I instruct, sliding it to face her. For all my formal commands, I can’t help but graze my mouth over the corner of hers. She smiles shyly, and the flash of that gap between her teeth makes me feel like I could climb inside her. I’ve had a lot of sex. Fucked a lot of women in a lot of places (holes and otherwise), but I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her. It’s like I can feel it in my guts and bones, the gnawing sensation that I’ll never have enough of her. She feels like home. She feels like she belongs to me.
And she will, but I turn down the volume on my consciousness for now.
“Go on, little fly. Read.”
“I must not touch myself when I’m at work.” I hear her swallow. Imagine her licking her lips. It makes me wonder which part of that turns her on—the doing or the getting caught?—it makes me wonder if her pussy is pulsing emptily. “Not without permission.”
“Well done.” I bring my hand down on her right bum cheek, hard and fast.
“Oh!”
“Read it again.”
“I must not…jeez!” My second slap turns her skin a fresh pink. “I must not t-touch myself when I’m at work.” My third a slightly sharper sting and causes her to suck in sharply. I don’t worry that it might’ve been too much as she picks up where she left off in a breathy tone. “Without an audience.”
“Without permission,” I correct, taking her flesh in both my hands. I squeeze and need, relishing her moans as she drops her head. And that answers my earlier question. “Freudian slip, my love?”
“Without my boss as an audience.” Her words are muffled as she drops her forehead to the desk, pressing back into my hands.
“And anyone in the vicinity who might happen to use a telescope.”
“What?” Her head jerks up, her worried glance sliding over her shoulder.
I use my hand to turn her head. “Keep going.”
“I must not…”
I know she hears the softzvvtof my zipper, the rest of her words slightly garbled as I press the head to the very center of her.
“I must not—”
It’s as far as she gets before I drive myself home with a lust-soaked groan.
“Oh yes!” Her hips rock back, chasing my retreat, and I don’t fucking know where to put my hands. The curve of her hip? The swell of her arse. I want it all. I want to touch, own, devour as I begin to fuck her solidly.
“Read,” I growl, slapping her arse again, making her internal walls greedy.
“I must not… oh, you feel so big.”
“Compliments are unnecessary. This isn’t about your enjoyment.”
She stretches like a cat beneath me, the paper still held between her two hands. I pull back at the sight of her, my cock hard and glistening between us.
“Fuck!” With a snap of my hips, I drive myself inside her, my fingers leaving red marks on her hips. “The words, Amelia. Read the fucking words.”
“I must not… I must not… Oh, I think I’m going to.”
I press my palm flat next to her head and cover her body with mine. “Your position here depends on you coming only when I tell you to.”
