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“More,” she demands, clutching on to my biceps to keep steady.
I withdraw my fingers, only to add another one, and continue to fuck her slick pussy. She rests her forehead on my shoulder, moaning and screaming my name, as she clamps down on my fingers, her body trembling as she orgasms. I waited far too long to hear her come for me, and I have no plan to stop anytime soon.
“Take your dress off,” I instruct. Then, I suck her juices from my fingers.
“Make me,” she challenges as she starts walking toward the kitchen.
No way am I letting her walk away from me, not until I am done with her. She wanted to play a game; let’s play a fucking game then.
I reach for her, and she steps to the side, but I get a firm grip on her hip and then grab the other side, her backside slamming into my erection. As she leans forward to wiggle free from me, she fails miserably with the vise grip I have one her. She gives in, placing her palms on the dividing wall that separates the kitchen from the entryway. She turns her head to the side, allowing me better access to her neck as I leave a trail of kisses on her soft skin.
“Take it off,” I say in a harsh and demanding tone.
She wanted to see this side of me. Well, she got it.
After she yanks the dress over her head, I unhook her bra and slide the straps down her arms. While I massage her breast and pinch her nipple between my fingers, feeling the tiny bud harden from my touch, she reaches behind herself to feel my erection over my pants. Fumbling with the button of my slacks, I pop it open, pull down the zipper, and push my pants and boxers to the floor.
There’s no time to remove my shoes or discard my clothes before she swings around, taking my cock in her hand. She gives it a few hard strokes as she sinks to her knees. As she positions me in front of her mouth, her lips part slowly, and she sticks out her tongue to lick the tip, her languid movements driving me crazy.
I rub my thumb across her cheek when she stops.
I’m two seconds from begging her to continue when she says, “What do you think your punishment should be, Parker?”
Of course she waits until after she comes to flip back to being Coach instead of the submissive girl who practically begged me to finger her pussy.
“I don’t know.” I run my fingers through her hair and to the back of her head, guiding her mouth.
“I want you to beg,” she says, loosening her grip on my cock.
It feels too good not to beg.
“Please,” I say.
She rewards me with a kiss, her tongue gliding over my sensitive skin, but she continues to taunt and bait me into whatever game we’re still playing.
I thought we were done with that after I made her come, only to find out she plans to torture me—preferably before my dick chokes to death from lack of oxygen.
“Coach,” I grunt because I know that’s the name she wants to hear, “can you help my player out before he ends up on the injured reserve?”
That comment gets me a wide grin that reaches up to her eyes, and before I have to embarrass myself further, she leans forward and takes my entire length in her mouth, not stopping until I can feel the back of her throat.
“Damn, woman,” I croak as her pace quickens, her hand and mouth moving in a harmonious rhythm.
Like Charlotte, some th
ings are worth the wait, and this is one of them…until she stops moving. I’m so close to finding my release. I think she’s trying to kill me with her sadistic ways, deriving pleasure from my pain.
She looks up at me, her hand still wrapped around me, and says, “How do you want to come?”
At first, I’m confused until I realize, this is all part of her game, which is why I choose the opposite of what I want—although I’d rather have both. “In your mouth.”
Rising to her feet, she slides her hand beneath my navy button-down shirt, her hand navigating every ridge of my muscles. “This needs to go along with the rest of your clothes,” she says, now standing, “and then you’re going to fuck me hard and good until you’ve worked off all your indiscretions.”
The way she speaks to me might make some men feel a little emasculated, but dirty talk from Charlotte is so unexpected that I wish she’d keep this up. I could get used to seeing this side of her in the bedroom more often. But, now, it’s my turn to take control of this situation and show her who’s in charge by fucking the smirk from her beautiful face.
I remove my clothes in record time, throwing my shoes and shirt and kicking off my pants and boxers. She points at the kitchen island, completely free of clutter and debris, unlike my apartment, and there are no words required because I know what she wants. I kiss her violently and with every ounce of passion that she expects, threading my fingers through her hair and pushing her into the counter.
Breaking away from her lips, I hold up my finger for her to wait, and I lift my pants from the floor to fish a condom from my wallet. By the time I’ve rolled it down my length, Charlotte is already bent over the kitchen island, her palms flat on the marble, as she assumes the position.
