She’s all in now.
Her fingers move on the keyboard, editing and changing some things, seeking my encouragement and advice on others, comparing formatting to other successful bid applications she found online. She’s a natural, and it makes sense, since these are things I’ve had her do in her day-to-day work over the last few weeks. It seems her day job has just been preparing her for her dream job.
“Next is the timeline,” I say, and watch as she starts to organize her already-written outline for what the entire project would look like from start to finish, from priming the wall to sketching the design. She’s done with the hard work and over the hurdle of fighting me. Knowing that the rest is mostly formatting and finishing the actual proposal, I decide she deserves a reward.
Shifting, I lift her a bit, using a hand to tug her panties until they’re a bundle at our feet. Then I settle us back down, lifting one of her legs and sliding it over my knee. I repeat the process until she’s in my lap, spread wide across my legs.
“Graham—” she stutters,
“Be good, June, and I’ll reward you.” Sliding a hand up her inner thigh, I splay a hand over her center, the tip of my middle finger grazing her entrance, and groan into her neck at how soaked she already is.
“How am I supposed to?—”
“Because you’re a good girl and you do what you’re told,” I say, nipping her ear, sucking the dangling ladybug earring she wore today into my mouth. As I do, I slide that middle finger into her, letting it settle there. She tightens and groans, and I bite back one of my own, but I don’t move anymore.
“Come on, June. Finish the timeline.”
“You’re just going to…” she starts, but I push the finger deeper, the heel of my palm pressing on her clit, and she lets out a real, unfiltered moan.
“Yes. Until you do as you’re told, now finish up the timeline. The faster we do this, the faster I get to bend you over this table and fuck you into it.” To my utter fucking delight, she does as I instruct. The work is almost completely done and just needs a few small tweaks I can help her make, and as she does, I slowly move my finger in and out of her. Her breathing is getting more and more ragged. We work for nearly ten minutes, and by the time she’s just about done, she’s soaked and panting. Her hips are rocking now, though any time she tries to get too much or gets too distracted, I tighten a hand on her hips, stopping her movement.
“How do I even know we’re doing this right?” she asks, breathy.
“I’ve been getting my job done with the distraction of you for weeks, June. I’m basically an expert at this point.” It’s the truth, too. “And I’d never let you do anything that wouldn’t guarantee you get the job you deserve.”
“I don’t—” I slide my finger out and then back in, adding a second one, harder and deeper than before, and she lets out a low moan, tightening around them. Thank god this torture is almost over.
“All done. Now export it and attach it to the email,” I murmur, fingers deep inside of her, gliding over her G-spot. Her head falls back, her breathing ragged, her hips shifting. I’ve learned June’s body well in just the few days we’ve been together, and I know that to come, she needs my thumb on her clit. Without giving that to her, I could have her teetering on this edge for some time.
“Graham, please.”
“Do you want a reward, baby?” I murmur, pressing kisses to her neck. “Something to incentivize you to get the job done?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes. Get the job done.”
I know inherently the reward I’m going to give her is not what she’s expecting, but that’s what she gets for not being specific. In business, you have to know exactly what you want and ask for it explicitly. I take my wet hand from her, then move between us, shifting to slide my shorts down until my cock bobs free. Then I settle, using one hand on her hips to encourage her to lift, the other to my cock as I slowly guide her onto me. The moan that leaves her lips is full and loud, complete and utter delight and relief as I stretch her. I have to fight every instinct not to divert from my plan, not to push her face down into his table and fuck her into oblivion before she hits submit.
Instead, I take in a deep breath and bite back a moan as she tightens around me. Seated on my cock, my hand moves between her legs to play over her clit ever so gently and everso slowly. It’s swollen and needy, the result of twenty minutes of playing with her cunt, not letting her hit the peak she desperately craves. With each pass, she tightens over me, the sensation absolutely torturous, but I know it’s still not enough to make her come.
“Attach the file to an email, June.” My head drops, lips pressing against her neck. Her pulse throbbing, her breathing erratic, her hands slowly attaching the file to the email.
“Now write a short note,” I say, forcing my voice to sound neutral despite the throbbing of my cock inside of her. It’s not just June that’s in the most blissful, hellish state: I’m right there with her.
“Graham, how the hell?—”
“To Whom It May Concern,” I say, my voice low even to my own ears. “I have attached my proposal for the Third Street mural to this email.” I lift my hips, pushing myself a bit deeper into her.
“Graham!” she shouts, head snapping back, her own hips shifting. I take one hand and grip her jaw, tilting her head toward the screen.
“To Whom It May Concern,” I repeat through gritted teeth. My other hand moves, gripping her hips and holding her in place, not trusting myself not to throw away the plan and fuck her without abandon until we both come. Before I can second-guess myself, though, her shaky hands began to move, tapping out my words. I guide her through writing a concise, curt email, and she types it out, signing off with her name.
In reward, I brush my fingers over her clit, enough to give her something, but not enough to make her come.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Now hit send, June.”
She groans.
“Are you blackmailing me with sex?”
