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He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me until I sat on the marble counter top. The hunger in his eyes told me it wasn’t enough for him either.
He wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Pulling the flower vases to the side, he lowered me down to my back with my knees up in the air. “Pull up your dress and take off your panties. Spread your legs and anchor your toes over the edge of the counter. Open yourself up and show me your pussy. I need to see if it’s everything I’ve imagined.”
His rough-edged words rippled through me, and I almost came from the deep vibrations of his voice. Doing what he’d asked, I shimmied up my dress, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my red panties and shoved them down my legs.
He reached out and took my panties. Once he had them in his hands, he sniffed them and then shoved them into his pocket. “Do you have any idea what I want with these?”
I shook my head. “Tell me, Sir.”
“Good girl, you’re already learning. I plan to hold them in my hand while I pump my cock until I explode. On Monday, I’ll bring them to the office, and I expect you to wear them with my dry cum coating them.”
An involuntary moan sounded in the back of my throat. Jesus. Wearing panties covered in his dry cum was the dirtiest, most erotic thing I’d ever been asked to do.
With my eyes locked on his, I splayed my fingers and rubbed them over my mound. My middle finger dipped inside my hot pussy and spread my folds for him to see all of me, and my hips gyrated in a salacious rhythm.
“Let me see your tits.”
With my free hand, I reached up, pulled down the top of my dress and bra. The wire in my bra pushed my breasts together, and my thrust-out nipples were already rock hard. My necklace dangled between my cleavage and the cool metal felt good brushing against my newly exposed skin.
He didn’t reach out to touch me like I’d expected him to do. Instead, he crossed his arms again and leaned back ever so slightly back. “Now show me how you make yourself come,” he ordered.
I was slightly disappointed he didn’t grab my tits. They were big—more than a handful with large pink nipples—and I’d always suspected that with the right treatment, I could come from just having my nipples played with.
My lips parted, and I leaned my head back against the mirror. My breasts were heavy and swollen and, using the edge of my thumbnail, I flicked my nipples back and forth. Currents of desire raced straight to my clit and my breath kicked up several notches.
The downright dirtiness of being locked in a restroom with a man I barely knew, a man who was my boss, was the biggest aphrodisiac I’d ever had.
“That’s it,” Kane grunted. His eyes following every move I made. “Play with your gorgeous fucking tits.”
On a growl, he reached down and rubbed his hand over his bulging crotch.
“Take yourself out for me, Sir,” I begged. “Let me see your cock. Let me see how hard being here with me makes you.”
He gave me a teasing smile. “Dirty little thing, aren’t you? I’ve been thinking about getting myself an office pet, and I think you’re going to be the perfect fit.”
I wanted him to sink into my pussy, my ass, between my tits, and in my mouth. I wanted him to do all the things I’d watched online. I wanted him to stretch every part of me wide until I was begging him to stop. But he wouldn’t stop because a man like him would do what he damn well pleased when he wanted and how he wanted.
“Usually, I’d make you work for this, but since you’ve asked so nicely…” Reaching down, he unzipped his trousers but didn’t bother to unbutton them. He took his magnificently thick cock out through the open fly, and my pussy muscles clenched and wept with desire.
So that’s what a real man looked like—huge, wide, and smooth. He must have been ten or eleven inches long and maybe two inches wide.
Tingles overtook my body, and the need for release overwhelmed me. I needed to come on my fingers. To experience the sweet, sweet release of my orgasm.
I’d never revealed my fantasies to anyone before. No one but me knew what I had to do to get myself off. My self-touch was rough and hard—the harder, the better—and for the first time ever, I would share with someone how unforgiving my touch was.
When people looked at me, they saw the goody-two-shoes persona I presented to the world—a little miss people pleaser. They had no clue what lay beneath. They had no clue about my wicked needs, wants, and desires. They would be shocked if they did.
