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Turning her, he placed her on the conference table, so she squatted on the table. He was still in her and he drew her tight, all folded up, against him.
The position bunched the muscles of her legs together. It was uncomfortable having her knees tucked into her chest and she squirmed against him. He was too big for her in this position and her body started to force him out.
He acquiesced and drew all the way out of her and laid her body out on the table with her butt in the air and legs dangling over the side. Drawing back his hand, he smacked her skin.
The first swipe was shocking. The second brought a smile to her lips. She sighed after the third and pushed up to meet him for the next ones.
Ease flowed through her body, making her heart beat faster and her pulse thud. The part of her brain that longed to let go finally released and she felt the tender touch of floating. It came sometimes, when she was being attended in such a way, but it had been so long. So long.
His cock brushed against her leg and the beat faltered.
She shivered. Hot, so hot.
He pulled her against him. The heat was too much, and she fought to pull away, but he thrust his cock into her.
She was wet. It made a sound, like the smack of a kiss or the swat of a behind.
He sighed. The pace he set was fast and steady.
Fingers played over her, rubbing, kneading, pinching, prodding, until the pleasure/pain line was so blurred every part of her flowed into him and his next movement.
She felt her climb, and it wasn’t a mini climax building, but one of those multi-orgasmic, triple-tiered episodes that shimmered with aftershocks. “Permission to—?
?
“No.” The word ground out, the sound gravel-hard and deeper then before.
She concentrated on her breath, trying to pull it back in, but like her body it was out of control. She panted like she was running a race and her body was so hot, so wet.
“Please.” The word hung plaintive between them. She wouldn’t beg, she couldn’t, though her body cried its own tears for release. She was so wet. So wet.
Hands squeezed her breasts and yanked her from the table.
The rhythm was broken. She shook and shuddered in his hands.
He pulled out and she wanted to weep with the loss of him.
He turned her to face him. “Say my name.”
“Rafael.”
Fingers squeezed along her lower back. “Again.”
“Raf-y.”
“Yes.” His mouth claimed hers. It branded her with the kind of kiss that would leave her red and swollen later.
Hands lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They stood in the room, nothing supporting them, and fucked. His cock stroked in and out, making little noises of joy as it came out.
He kissed her. Frantic laps of tongue and teeth.
Kissed and fucked, until it was unclear how many times she climaxed.
When he finally released her mouth and drew out of her cunt, she was shaking on legs too rubbery to stand. He picked her up and laid her on the table again.
She was covered in sweat and without his warmth, started to shiver.
He watched her for a minute, then went to his luggage. Rummaging inside, he finally drew out a T-shirt, clean white cotton. The smell of detergent and bleach welcomed her.
