Page 18 of Midlife Crisis

I press up on the desk, his nearness forcing me back. Suddenly, Hank drops to his knees, bringing his thick hands to cover my kneecaps.

“You wearing undies?” His question should shock me, but instead, dampness pools and my thighs tingle. Before I can answer, he demands, “Take them off.”

I don’t know why I jump when this man says jump, but I’m instantly turned on and so needy for where I hope this goes that I’m ready to ask how high? the next time he commands I leap.

I scrunch up my skirt and wiggle down my underwear. Hank takes it from me and brings it to his nose. The contrast of his dirty fingers around my white panties is a direct shot up my middle. Fireworks explode inside me, and my legs spread of their own volition. I want him. The smell of my arousal is all over the cotton cupped at his nose. Thick palms drag up my thighs, separating me farther. My hands fall back on the desk. I’ve never been taken on a desk before, and the possibility thrills me.

His hands tug me forward to balance precariously on the edge of the flat surface.

“I can’t put my dirty hands on you.”

I whimper at the thought. He’s being conscious of the chemicals on his skin and not mixing them with my sensitive parts, but dammit, I almost don’t care.

“Other parts could touch me.” The boldness I find around this man startles me, but I don’t back down. He brings it out in me somehow. Softly, he chuckles.

“The first time I take you isn’t gonna be on some damn dirty desk, little lady. That’s not the type of woman you are.” While the words are sweet, I’m slightly cross. Why am I not worthy of a desk fuck? The snap of the cupcake package draws my attention away from this thought. I watch as Hank gingerly picks up the delicacy with fingers touching only the wrapping. I’m expecting him to leave me hanging here with my legs spread, my privates pointed at him, and my ego waning. Instead, he dips his head, kissing up the inside of my thigh while he balances the cupcake off to my right. His mouth is heaven, sucking at my inner leg and nipping on my skin. The stubble on his jaw tickles like I imagined it might, and it spurs me to spread my legs farther.

“You brought me a cupcake.” He blows on my sex, and I squirm on the desk. Pulling back, he tips the cupcake between my legs. I’m too shocked to wiggle away when the cool icing suddenly coats between my thighs. “So sweet,” he says, setting the dessert back on the desk, then gripping my knees and diving back between my thighs. His mouth hits me with a force which buckles my elbows, and I fall back on the desk. His big tongue flattens, spreading icing over me, but at the same time, he laps and licks, swirling the creamy treat over his tongue and moaning while he devours me. My eyes roll back at the sight of his head bobbing between my legs. Prickles of light flash before me. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

My knees quiver, and his heavy palms steady me. The orgasm races from my toes, rippling up my legs and crashing into me. My knees clench around his ears as my body jackknifes forward. My hand covers the back of his head, holding him to me a second while I fall into the strongest release I’ve ever had. Seconds later, I collapse back onto the desk. My hands catch me as my legs dangle, limp and languid. I don’t trust myself to stand.

Hank pulls back, and I have to giggle. A trace of light purple frosting remains on his chin, mixed with the silver and ink of his scruff.

“You’ve got something…” My voice trails as I reach forward, and he covers my finger with his lips, sucking on it, causing tingles to return. I don’t want to be selfish like the other night, though. I came here to thank him.

Hank stands slowly, his knees cracking from the hard surface beneath them.

“Let me get something to clean you up.” He’s holding my knees while he speaks, and I curl my fingers into his waistband, tugging him toward me. He questions me as I work his belt. “Midge?”

“Let me return the favor.”

“Not here, baby,” he mutters. I’m not a pouting woman, but my lower lip projects as I don’t give up. My fingers quickly unbuckle him and unclasp the hook of his work pants. His fingers dig into my knees, and I know he wants me to continue even though he said otherwise. I have the zipper down and my hand inside his pants, massaging him over his boxers, when my breath hitches.

“Hank. You’re huge.” I’m not kidding. He’s thick, rock solid, and long. Really long. He chuckles at my enthusiasm.

“Well, those are words every man longs to hear.” Who would tell him otherwise? A Greek god would have nothing on what I’m cupping. I tug gently before sneaking my fingers over the waistband of his forest green boxer briefs. He’s hot, throbbing, and stiff, and my mind flashes to visions of him filling me. His mouth distracts me as he kisses me aggressively, capturing my lips and tugging at them. I’m almost falling backward, but I’m not giving in to the pleasure of his mouth. I push back at his shoulders until he’s upright and then I slither to the floor before him.

“Middy?” He chokes, hesitant but eager.

“Where’s that cupcake?” I twist for the damaged delicacy, swipe a finger through the icing, and coat his warm dick with the cool treat.

“Fuck,” Hank growls, but my focus covers his large crown, sucking at the mushroom shape while sampling the icing running down the length. I release him with a pop and lick along the ridges, lapping up the sticky sweetness before returning to the tip. There’s no way he’ll fit, but I’m giving it my best shot to bring him to his knees. I want him to want me like I want him. So much wanting…

My jaw tightens as his hand slips into my hair, gentle but firm. One of my hands circles the base of him, squeezing as my other fingers tickle the trail of hair leading to this prize. I’m practically slurping when his hips rock forward.

“Little lady…baby…” He rocks again, hitting the back of my throat. I’m determined not to give up. He’s warning me, but I want this from him. “Lady, fuck it.” He’s pulsing against my tongue, liquid slipping down my throat, and I smile around him. Slowing, I hold him inside my mouth until he mutters, “Enough.”

I pull back, releasing him as a dribble falls from my lips. It isn’t pretty. However, he’s spent, bending over me to hold the desk behind me, and I’m so pleased.

“I don’t think I can move,” he teases. His soft chuckle thrills me, and I press a kiss to the tip of him. He hisses. “No more, baby.”

Holding out his hand, he helps me stand, and I tug at my skirt that’s still riding up my thighs.

Suddenly, Hank releases my hand like I’m scorching him. His demeanor shifts and he won’t look at me, despite the faltering smile on my face. I brush at my knees to avoid the awkwardness.

“I’ll be right back.” He’s straightening his pants but heads for a door behind the desk. Hearing water run, I assume it’s a bathroom. I realize I can’t find my underwear, and instantly, I’m embarrassed by my behavior. What was I thinking? I hate how I feel almost ashamed. My heart races, and I mentally say fuck the panties. I’m reaching for my purse when Hank exits the bathroom with a damp cloth in his hands. His eyes shift from my purse to my eyes.

“I thought you might like to wipe off.” I’m too humiliated to accept his offering, knowing there’s no way I can lift my skirt again in front of this man. I don’t even want to go into the bathroom. I just want to walk off my shame and get out of here. I shake my head to ward off his offer.