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“Loopholes and fine print, Charlotte.” My cock is getting painfully hard behind my slacks as I grind against her again.
“Oh…” she moans, trying to wrap her legs around me.
“We don’t have time for this,” I mutter uselessly against her chest, dragging down the deep neckline of her blouse.
“What if I told you I got my test results back?” she says in a breathy moan.
I pull away. “What test results?”
“You said I had to turn in clean test results in order to be a member of the club, so I did. I’m clean.”
My blood begins pounding so hard through my veins that my cheeks flush and my focus goes hazy, all from the image of sinking my fat cock into Charlotte without anything between us. “Fuck…” I stammer through clenched teeth.
In a quick motion, I flip her onto her stomach, grinding against her from behind.
“We can be quick.” She moans, but I’m already one step ahead. I rip her skirt up above her hips, shove her panties to the side, and quickly unleash my cock from my pants in five seconds flat.
The sight of her perfect ass has me feeling wild. I give her backside a quick slap, making her yelp, then knead the flesh with my hand. She squirms against me. Fuck, I love seeing her this needy, and I love that it’s my cock she craves. Bending down, I take a ravenous bite of her right ass cheek. She squeals, driving her face into the mattress.
“I should make you wait.” I growl, standing up and pulling her hips back, lining up the head of my dick with her wet pussy lips. She groans loudly into the satin sheets. “But I want you leaking my cum in your panties while you’re on stage.”
I plunge myself inside her, and it’s like heaven. Her moans and the sight of her soft hips in my hands is enough to drive me mad, but it’s the tight heat of her cunt that makes me crazy. Charlotte was made for me. This pussy was molded for my cock, swallowing me up so eagerly like it’s putting a fucking spell on me. Making me never want another pussy again, which I don’t.
“Harder,” she gasps, pushing backward, her delicate fingers grasping the black satin tightly in her grip. I give her what she wants, slamming into her harder and harder, wondering if I could be hurting her, but she doesn’t look like she’s in any pain. The expression on her face looks more like ecstasy.
“I wish I was fucking you every minute of my day, you know that?”
“Yes.”
“I love fucking you, Charlotte. You take my cock so well.”
“I love it,” she cries.
“I want your pussy to be sore when you’re up there. I want you thinking about this.”
“Faster, Emerson. I’m going to come.” She moans in a high-pitched plea. God, I love that she asks for what she wants during sex now.
I pull her hips up and slam into them, grunting with each lightning-fast stroke. Her beautiful cunt squeezes my shaft tightly as she comes.
Holding her hips in my hands, I let her body relax from her orgasm as I start to unload inside her, watching her intently and imagining her body soaking up everything I’m giving her.
When I finally pull out, I glance toward the door. If there was any doubt about me fucking my secretary, it’s gone now. Even if they didn’t just hear me, since these walls are pretty soundproof, we’ve been in here “talking” for a while now.
I pull up Charlotte’s panties and adjust her skirt. She stands up and fixes her blouse.
Before she moves toward the door, I grab her waist and pull her against me. I need her lips, one quick taste before we walk back out there, and she goes on stage, letting random men bid money for her time. I need to fool myself for just a little longer and pretend she’s mine.
If I were a smart man, I’d let someone else win Charlotte tonight. I should let him impress her with his money or promises of sex, and if she decides she’d rather be with someone who could love her for real, I should let her go.
But even I know, that’s impossible now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go.
RULE #28: WHEN HE TELLS YOU YOU’RE WORTH IT, BELIEVE IT.
Charlotte
Ithink I’m gonna be sick. This can’t be happening. Somehow, I’m standing among a horde of thirteen other women, all of them supermodel gorgeous and in their underwear—if you could call it that.
I’m doing this for Emerson. I can’t tell if he’s telling me to do this because he needs me to or because he wants me to. Is he really going to let someone else win an hour with me, assuming anyone even bids? Do I mean that little to him?
