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“Josh… baby… we don’t have time,” I breathe out against his parted lips.
“I’ll be quick…. I promise…. Just wanna touch you,” he responds in kind, forehead resting on mine.
We share ragged breaths, our gazes locked, as Josh slides a long finger inside my underwear. He lets out a curse when his skin meets my damp folds, and his eyelids grow heavier. Josh starts stroking me in a long, slow, maddening motion. The pad of his finger gliding through my pussy lips and playing at my entrance. Then he pushes inside and hooks his strong digits against my inner walls, pulling moans and whimpers from my parted lips. Supplications for more, praises and demands to go faster, deeper.This man will be the fucking death of me!
***
There are moments in life when you simply know. After you sit through a major exam and get the unexplainable conviction you passed. The first time you hear your favorite song and the melody, the rush of endorphin, the joy it brings you seeps into your very being. That type of unique emotion is what I felt the first time I met Josh Browlyn. It was a regular workday, and I came in unsuspecting that my life was about to be forever thrown off its uneventful course. Rumors about the new head of human resources being a hunk had caught my attention, but I figured he was just another hot suit. Some Ivy League graduate, Armani wearing, pretty face, hotshot.Boy, was I wrong…Yes,bothJosh’s resume and his tailored suit were impeccable. Yes, he looked good enough to eat. But the man under all that? He was edgy, intriguing… Impossibly tall, broad, and handsome. With a wicked smile, a sharp mind and quick repartee. I fell in complete and irrevocable lust. And so began our wicked games. At first it was just flirting, throwing jabs at each other, till it wasn’t anymore…
Josh
I came into Nia’s office for my usual quick fix. But seeing the way she looked at me, hearing her words of refusal… I realized I’m fucking tired of playing this back-and-forth game, and my patience snapped. I want to touch her, feel her, see and hear her come. Lick my fingers clean of her juices. Not wash my hand and carry the smell of her on my body for the rest of the day. This woman drives me insane!
“Oh My God, Josh…” she moans loudly, before I plaster a large hand over her mouth.
Nia’s eyes have darkened to a crazed shade of deep brown. My eyes never leave her gorgeous face. Every time her lids fall, each time they flutter back open, I’m there. Taking her in, drinking her up. Reverently watching her shake under the caresses of my long, strong fingers. My lips falling on Nia’s, muffling the cries of pleasure when she gets too loud. But I never stop. The pace changes, and so does the motion. I alternate between soft, naughty pinches of her clit, deep strokes inside her fucking soaked pussy and languorous come hither movements against the walls of the tight channel I can’t wait to invade. Over and over I bring Nia close to orgasm, showing her how fucking good I can make her feel. And each time she’s on the cusp of climax, almost there, I slow down, withdraw just the time for the tsunami threatening to wash over Nia to recede.
“Oh, baby, I’m so close… so fucking close…”
“You wanna come?”
She nods frantically, eyes dazed, her swollen lips parted. Her stylish silk blouse and pencil skirt, completely askew. Hair a mess, tits about to spill out of the black lace bra covering her beautiful, deep brown skin.Fuck, she’s gorgeous!
“I’ll make you come, but you have to do something for me,” I let out in a crystal clear voice.
“Anything, handsome,” Nia whimpers, entirely missing my point and reaching for my fly.
I chuckle darkly. Can’t believe the woman of my dreams is trying to get her hands on my cock and i just pushed her away. I’ve officially lost it.
“No, sweetheart.”
I tilt her chin up with a finger and push two fingers deep inside of Nia’s pussy, knuckles deep. She exhales long and loud, fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“Go out with me,” I ask in a low, soft, cajoling tone.
She’s said no repeatedly. ‘No dating colleagues, we need to stop. This is the last time’… All of Nia’s words of rejection resonate in my head.
“Yes, I’ll go out with you,” she almost yells, taking me completely by surprise.
I press the pad of my thumb to her small bundle of nerves and resume finger-fucking Nia and kissing her like our lives depend on it. And it doesn’t take long. A few strokes, a few licks and nips, and she comes undone in my arms. Shaking and moaning. Fucking magnificent. I keep caressing her till the very last tremor has receded. Kiss her tenderly. Gather her against my chest and walk us to the small couch sitting against one wall. Nia’s breathing slowly comes back to normal, but neither one of us lets go. I drop tender kisses on the top of her hair, run my hands over her soft skin, and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. My cock is still painfully hard, and it takes all I’ve got to not bend Nia over the sofa, pull her skirt over her hips and bury myself deep inside her. EVERYTHING. While I’m visualizing roadkill, reciting baseball stats and presidents’ names to keep my libido in check, Nia is relaxed in my arms. She sighs contentedly, running the tips of her delicate fingers along my collarbone, and ruining all my efforts by pressing kisses into the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck. But it’s all worth it. Having my woman satisfied and relaxed in my arms. Finally, having agreed to a date.
“So, we’re going out?” Nia whispers.
“Seems like it,” I reply with a grin.
I hear her own smile in her voice when she adds: “not sure our first date can top what you just did to me.”
And I burst into laughter.Challenge fucking accepted, baby girl.
Nia
When I hear my doorbell ring, I take the time to fluff my hair, re-apply gloss, spritz a cloud of Allure by Chanel and reposition the girls. The bustier of my black cotton maxi-dress does wonderful things for my cleavage. When I open the door to Josh, he leans in to kiss my cheek and I return his embrace. He’s a stylish as usual, but in a more casual way in a pair of dark blue jeans fitted in all the right places. I can’t see his ass yet, but the night is young. I’m keeping my hopes high… His navy v—neck sweater brings out the color of his eyes and makes me weak in the knees. He smells divine, and his bright smile tells me he’s happy to see me. He’s still obscenely good-looking, but at least it’s not naked-time, yet. And I don’t know if I’m more relieved or frustrated that my girl parts are getting a reprieve. Although the hint of tanned skin at his collar does a solid number on me… this man’s neck is a thing of glory, all smooth skin and powerful lines! I feel flattered at the sight of his shaven jaw; I appreciate the effort! Although I love the rugged look of his stubble, this clean-shaven version is gorgeous in a different way…
The smell of Josh’s woodsy cologne fills the interior of his Aston Martin. His long, strong fingers glide swiftly on the cherry wood steering wheel. Josh’s attentive on the road. The street lights illuminate his profile, giving an even sharper edge to his masculine features. Soft Jazz music plays from the radio. We haven’t even made it to the restaurant and just the car drive is frightfully romantic! I take in a deep breath and smooth down my dress, resting my palms flat on my upper thighs in a self-calming gesture. Josh slickly parks a block away from the restaurant (even his driving is sexy, damn it!) and circles the car to open my door. I very much appreciate the gentlemanly gesture. I take the hand Josh extends to help me out, and look him in the eye. He’s smiling down at me, holding my fingers gently but firmly. After he locks the car, Josh guides me through the alcove of the restaurant entrance. STILL HOLDING MY HAND… The place looks amazing. All soft candle lights and smooth music.
Josh turns to me, asking: “should we eat on the terrace?”
“Perfect!” I respond excitedly. The night is warm, and with this beautiful setting, it’d be a sin to dine indoors. He waves at the bartender standing behind a beautiful wooden counter aligned with chrome stools. Josh points his index up, showing the top floor, then two fingers. The guy smiles and nods his understanding. When we reach the terrace, a Milky Way of hung lanterns chases the night’s shadows, the romantic atmosphere complete with Tony Bennett’s rendering of “Fly me to the moon”. There are a few tables spread out on the veranda, each one isolated enough to offer privacy. The hostess, who welcomed us upstairs, invites us to choose where we’d like to be seated. Still holding my hand (!!!!), Josh guides us to the furthest, less illuminated part of the deck, under the tall oak tree towering above the building. He pulls my chair (I’m REALLY enjoying this side of his personality!), and settles into his, giving me a tranquil smile before opening his menu. I take that as my cue to check mine, too.
