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“Sit up on the desk,” Savva says, his voice deep and raspy. There’s a pressure to it, a need that cannot be put into words, but can be felt throughout the entire room as I climb up onto the desk and sit there with my feet dangling over the side.
“Take your pants off.”
I obey him, lifting my hips and slipping my jeans off into a crumpled heap on the floor. I still have my shoes on, but somehow, that feels sexier. It’s impulsive and illogical, revealing the most sensitive part of my body to him but leaving everything else covered.
“The panties, too,” he says, waving his finger in a downward motion. He’s straight to business without a single consideration for the consequences of what we’re doing. I know it’s wrong, and he probably knows it’s wrong too, but the tension between us cannot continue to coil tighter and tighter with no release.
Eventually, something must snap.
I pull down my panties, kicking them off onto the floor near my pants. I keep my legs crossed, abashed by my nudity. I feel so raw in the bright light, so ugly and exposed.
“Open your legs,” he says, his eyes glued to my pale thighs.
“Maybe you could turn the light off first?” I say softly.
He shakes his head. “No, my dear Oakley. I want to see you play with yourself. Open your legs.”
I’m afraid to move because he’ll see how badly I’m trembling, but I manage to uncross my legs and part them slightly, just enough to show my pussy, but not enough to get a hand between my thighs to touch it.
He steps forward, grabbing my knees and pulling my legs apart. He presses my knees into the desk, stretching me out in a butterfly pose like I’m in gym class all over again. I lean back, avoiding having to look at myself as he exposes me.
My cheeks are burning hot, so much so that I feel like I have to breathe with my mouth open to get enough air to keep me from overheating. I probably look ridiculous, and that’s just one more reason why the light should be off.
But Savva doesn’t seem to see things the same as I do. He’s reveling in my nudity, eating up the details of my pussy in the all-exposing overhead light. I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my skin like lasers, engraving his name into me as he consumes my figure.
“Play with yourself. I want to see how you do it,” he says, backing away and grabbing his bulge. He squeezes it, pleasuring himself while he waits for me.
His unapologetic boldness gives me a boost of confidence, enough to lay my hand down on my pussy, avoiding his eyes but allowing myself to become engrossed in the large mound that he’s squeezing in his jeans. I’m so wet already that my fingers slip off my clit a few times. I have to take a sharp breath and hold it to steady myself enough to continue.
“Good girl,” he purrs. “See how nice things can be when you’re behaving yourself? Don’t you like being a good girl for me?”
I nod against my better judgment, his words doubling the heat in my lower belly. It’s like a fire, tightening my muscles and scorching me with desire so strong that I forget about the type of man Savva is. All I know is that I want him inside of me.
My fingers move quickly, rubbing tight circles on my clit as his face becomes more visceral and serious. Pleasure rises up into my body, and I arch my back, staring up at the ceiling as everything goes white.
Color pops in front of me, splashes of red, pink, and blue on the ceiling like drops of ink in water. An explosion of warmth and shuddering waves of bliss course through me, filling me up with the divine and temporarily releasing me from doubt and concern.
When I come down to reality and look at Savva again, his pants are already at his feet and his shirt on the floor, his cock pulsing in his tight fist like an angry python. He comes toward me, no hesitation, no warning, no doubt in his mind about what he’s about to do, and he presses the head of his cock into my pussy.
It slides past my swollen labia easily, stretching my slit out as he enters. His eyes are locked on mine, keeping me in a magnetic hold as his flesh becomes synonymous with my own. His hands find my waist, holding me in place as he thrusts deep inside of me.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, lifting his chin and exposing his powerful neck as he revels in the pleasure I’m giving him.
For the first time since we met, I feel like I have more control than he does, wrapped around his cock, forcing him to surrender his seed inside of me, milking him for his precious lifeforce.
The veins in his thick forearms bulge as he tightens his grip, squeezing my waist as his rhythm quickens. “Good girl,” he chants, thrusting deep, pushing hard to get to some deeper place inside of me.
I feel him against my cervix, bumping the head of his cock there in a way that would be painful if I weren’t so completely aroused and lost in the pleasure. There’s no such thing as pain here. He could bite me until he left permanent imprints in my skin and it would feel like a kiss.
His movements become less controlled and more desperate, my ass slipping across the desk from sweat. He pulls me close to him, pressing his body against mine, standing with me in a close embrace as he grinds his hips into me.
I can smell the musk and cologne on his chest, his rough hair scratching against my shirt. I wish I were fully naked so that I could feel the heat of him on my breasts, but there’s no time.
Impulse. Energy. Release.
We were made for this.
He grabs the old phone from the desk, pulling it hard and stretching the cord out. He wraps it around my neck as he fucks me, pulling just tight enough to tease me without actually choking me.
