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He caught my defiant chin between his thumb and ring finger, holding me still as he kissed me giddy yet again. “I think I’d rather show you than tell you, if you trust me.”
“If I trust you?”
He nodded, his eyes hooded and burning through me in a way that I couldn’t describe. “I don’t think I’ve had a chance to tell you this, but you look absolutely delicious like this.”
“D-delicious?”
He nodded, his hands on my thighs again and slowly sliding upwards, taking my skirt ever so slightly. “Do you think you’d like to let me have a little taste?”
But we’d already been kissing so I didn’t catch what he meant. Looking at him in puzzlement, I allowed him to pull my hips to the very edge of the desk while gently pushing my chest back until I was leaning on my elbows.
And then he started to kneel between my legs and suddenly, very suddenly, I got it.
“Oh, oh! You don’t have to!” I blurted, and I was sure that my entire face was absolutely crimson. But he just pressed a kiss to my stocking covered thigh before looking over my body at me.
“But I want to, if you’re ready.”
Oh.
Was I ready?
I didn’t know.
I was definitely scared, nerves piling in my belly, but God if I didn’t want him more than I wanted oxygen.
“I want to try,” I said finally, voice weak with desire and trepidation.
He nodded, face full of a hunger that made me feel like the sexiest woman on earth. “If you change your mind at all, let me know. You can change your mind.”
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. “I know.”
“Good.”
Mr. Fitzgerald returned to the task at hand and time seemed to do something funny as I watched him press his face into one of my thick thighs, his lips almost feeling like they burned a brand there.
He worked his way up, hands caressing and lips gently pushing against me until I felt him reach the top of my stockings and where they were held by my utilitarian garter belt.
Normally lacy, frilly things for sex and looking nice, mine was a solid black one with thick clips that I used purely for my office outfits. I had known that I could always buy regular, over the waist stockings, but being fat and tall for a woman always left me with either a much too low crotch, or a crotch that sat there it was supposed to but the tights themselves were incredibly baggy.
But now, with possibly most handsome man I’d ever seen between my thighs, it was hard not to feel a bit self-conscious as he mouthed the skin above one stocking, and then the other, lightning seeming to crackle through me as his lips finally touched my flesh.
His hands moved upwards, pushing my skirt that final bit out of the way before his fingers danced along the waistband of my underwear. He bent forward, his nose gently brushing against my still-covered center and I was reminded so sharply of my dream from earlier that I was surprised I didn’t soak his face right then and there.
Was all of it really happening? Was I dreaming again? I couldn’t quite tell, the world melting into buttery sweet waves of excitement and pleasure with only a hint of the usual trepidation that coiled in my gut whenever I thought about being sexual.
I lifted my hips slightly, allowing him to pull my panties down and off until they were past my knees. I settled back again, blushing vibrantly when I heard the quiet sound of them hitting the floor.
“You’re so pretty for me here,” Mr. Fitzgerald muttered as I swore I went that much more crimson. I thought about saying something snarky, but then one of his fingers gently glided through my slick center and I couldn’t help but gasp. “That’s my girl,” he practically purred into me.
I didn’t even realize that my eyes had closed at some point, so I nearly jolted when that finger stroked me again, ghosting over my entrance. Instead it almost felt like it was mapping me out, as well as warming me up to his touch so it wouldn’t be a shock when he-
“Holy shit!”
No, it was still definitely a surprise when he pressed a single kiss over that sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of my slit. I nearly bucked off the desk at the slight pressure, but one of his hands moved from my thigh to my hip, holding me in place.
Those perfect, warm lips pulled away and when I looked down at him, I could see a bit of shine clinging to his professionally-kept beard. It took another beat to realize that wetness was from me, and that if I kissed him, I would probably be able to feel and taste myself all over him.
