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Only the tips of her toes touched the ground, her hands holding tightly onto the sides of the desk, slippery against the polished wood. She felt her skirt being lifted, her underwear being pushed to the side. The sudden rush of air sent a shiver over her exposed skin. She waited expectantly for him to enter her, but instead she felt the wetness of his tongue flat between her lips. A shudder and a gasp escaped her. When she started to writhe and reach for him, he pushed her back down onto the desk.
“If you want more, you’ll be still,” he said as he worked his tongue along the inside of her lips and up towards her clit. She whined in response, and he lapped at her pearl rhythmically, the surface area of his tongue small and his movements practical. Josh had never given her an orgasm from just oral, and she had always thought she just wasn’t capable of it. Any time she felt it building, she would lose focus, but with Mr. Arnault, she already felt something welling up just under her stomach. His hand drifted from her lower back to the inside of her, two strong fingers crooked between her walls, searching for her G-spot and finding it, flicking it at the same rhythm as his tongue. The extra stimulus was too much for Lainey, and she spasmed, letting out breathy moans onto the surface of the desk, her breath fogging the wood underneath her as she rode the waves of her orgasm, forcing herself to breathe through them.
“Good girl,” Mr. Arnault said from the floor, caressing her as she continued to jerk. “I can feel you squeezing around my fingers.” He pulled his fingers out slowly, teasing her by inserting them a little then removing them. With her underwear still pulled to the side, he pushed the head of his penis against her entrance. “Do you want more?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Lainey begged. He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a condom, and Lainey silently thanked him for using it without asking because she didn’t know if she could see through the haze of desire to make the right choice as far as protection was concerned. She desperately wanted to feel him inside her without the thin latex, but she said nothing. With one hand flat against the small of her back holding her hips in place, he widened her stance. She tiptoed a bit, and he chuckled at her struggle, running his fingers down her slit again to check that she was still wet. Then he was inside her with a plunge that rolled her eyes in the back of her head.
“I like that face,” he grumbled, and she looked up to see there was a small mirror hung on the wall behind his desk. Mortified, she groaned in humiliation and covered her eyes. “Lower your hands,” he demanded, stopping his slow strokes completely, emptying her. She peeked through her fingers at the mirror, and he smiled. “That’s it. Let me see.” And her hands were down, and she was in ecstasy as he slid out of her, all the way to the tip, before sliding back in. One hand was in her hair, pulling her against him, while the other was still steadying her lower back, arching her spine inward. Just when she thought it was the best it could be, he slammed into her at a rate that lurched her stomach.
“Oh!” she cried out in surprise at his sudden speed.
“There you go. Let go, Lainey.”
“I can’t cum twice,” she said back, her voice far away from even her own ears, like she was calling across a tunnel.
“You can, Lainey. Don’t think. Just feel me. Do you feel how deep I am inside you?” About eight and a half inches from what she could tell, and he was thick.
“Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell whose throbbing she was feeling, only that he was right, and that familiar swell was building up at the base of her stomach again.
“Yes what, Lainey? Who am I?”
“Yes, Mr. Arnault,” she choked, the embarrassment coating her tongue. She went limp, allowing him to hold her down and take control while she gave in to just sensation. Soon, the feeling in her stomach was ballooning throughout her body, and she realized she was screaming her satisfaction, her “yesses” glass until they were sand and sand until they were a shoreline. He was yelling with her, or maybe over her. All she could hear was “That’s it, that’s it” to the same pulse as her heart and his hips. Finally, they wilted together, sweaty and flat, two vessels drained of any life but intertwined still, the roots of two plants dying in the sun. They lolled their heads toward each other and kissed with the sweet understanding of finality.
Chapter thirteen
LaineymovedthroughWednesdaylike a dream. Everyone around her was still moving at a dizzying pace as they tried to solve Mr. Arnault’s—Bradley’s—problem, but Lainey was living in a world that was so much slower than they were. She danced to the shredder and swayed to the phones. Food tasted better, all music was a symphony, and she couldn’t even look at his office without imagining his tongue and all that she now knew it was capable of.
Which is why she didn’t take even a moment to consider when her mother called her and invited her to dinner that night. Usually, she liked to have a couple of days’ notice. It wasn’t that she really was ever busy with anything so much as it was that she had to ready herself to be around anyone but Jill. It took at least two business days to prepare herself to hedge her words and sit up straight.
She was smiling like a dope when she arrived at her parents’ house.
“You look happy,” her mother said into her shoulder as they hugged.
“I always look happy,” Lainey defended herself. Her mother regarded her with strange affection, like a housecat that might pounce. “I do,” she insisted. Her happiness was arrested when she got to the dinner table and saw Bradley seated there, his jaw clenched and his neck veins bulging through his skin..
“Well, hello there!” he bellowed, his greeting too loud in the smallish room. It fell flat.
“Hi, nice to see you,” she replied, sitting at her usual spot at the end of the table, which trapped her between him and her mother.
“Lainey Bug, Bradley here told me about your internship, so we thought we’d have you two over for dinner again, see how it was going. Why didn’t you tell me about it?” her dad asked.
“It’s still new.” She shrugged lamely.
“Todd,” her mom spoke up, “I told you we should have told her Bradley was coming. He’s her boss now—she might want a break from him. I certainly would,” she teased. Bradley smiled at her, catching her tone, his chin rested on two folded hands.
“No, no, I would never tire of Bradley,” Lainey piped up, trying to squeeze out a laugh and throwing a glance at her boss. His eyes were fixed ahead at her mother, as if looking at her would betray their secret. Meanwhile, her eyes were wandering over his hands, his long fingers, his strong wrists, the coarse hair that covered them. She remembered his hands pinning her lower back down, and a jolt went through her stomach that she covered with a swallow.
“You’re on a first name basis now?” her dad asked, and she looked up to see him exchange a glance with her mom. She was silent, sensing that she would make a mistake if she spoke again, but he was silent also, waiting.
“It was just a joke,” she mumbled finally in response.
“I hope you’re not joking that way at the office, Lainey.”
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Okay, so tell us all about it,” her dad prodded. “What are you working on now?”
“Nothing really, Dad, I’m just an intern,” she muttered and shoved salad into her mouth.
