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His knuckles jut out from beneath the blouse, as his hands caress my breasts. He cups the full weight, and I gasp in pleasure, my round breast against his warm large palm. His beautiful gorgeous perfect thumb brushes my nipple. My nipple stiffens so obediently upon his touch that I blush under his intense gaze. The flushed redness has probably reached my face, enough for him to notice.
“You go red, pink so quickly. Your body never lies.”
I don’t know what to say that. He knows where he wants to go.
“Lean on me.”
“What will you do?” I ask, though whatever it is, I want him to do it. I almost panic in disappointment when he pulls his hand out of my blouse. The absence of his warm hands is painful. But this time his forefinger and thumb gather the fabric of my blouse along with my nipple. The tweak begins softly and ends in a pinch. I feel streaks of arousal spreading from my breasts all the way down to my core.
I lurch forward instinctively to take my share of the delicious pain.
Now he is done with the blouse. His hands grab the blouse from both sides and yank it over my face. He tosses it to the floor.
“I dream of doing this to you, when you come to my office.” He is declaring victory on my clothing, taking vengeance on it. I like that blouse but it’s obviously responsible for sending some very dirty thoughts to his brain. He is immediately rewarded as I am not wearing a bra.
Liquid fire runs through my body. My heart beats faster. His warm hands create heat as they rub against my rib cage, his long fingers teasing the undersides of my breasts as they slide downwards. Downwards back to my waist and then down to my thighs. I want to open up more for him, feel his hands on my inner thighs, but that damn skirt is still stuck below my knees, preventing me from spreading further.
He knows this.
His hands are clearly enjoying working in the tight space.
“Spread your thighs he commands.
“I can’t,” I say, “the skirt is keeping me tight.”
He almost laughs and then mischievously pulls my right thigh. I feel the stretch of the skirt around my knees, but more rewardingly his warm lips on my inner thigh. No tongue, no kiss, just a bump of his lips on my inner thigh. I hear him inhale deeply and then he lets out the air from nostrils making his own place between my thighs. The naughty restraint fills me with desire. I am tied up in my own clothes next to a half-naked Greek God Billionaire Grumpy Boss who has defeated my blouse and now bent upon vengeance against my skirt. He pulls my skirt further down, just ever so slightly, creating more space for my thighs to spread slightly more. This time he brings his head to my left leg and bumps his lips against the inner thigh.
Again, no kiss.
No tongue.
Just a graze of his handsome face. I catch a glimpse of his beautiful head between my legs and it’s like my whole body drank whisky, and the feel of fire has entered every pore of my skin.
Once again, both his hands are sliding between the restricted space between my legs. Both his hands conspire together. He bends his knuckles, to poke, both my inner thighs with the tips of his long fingers. They dig into my skin and attempt to push my thighs further apart. But that stupid skirt! It pushes back with equal pressure preventing me from spreading myself for more of his touch.
“It seems you are trapped by that skirt Miss Banner.”
His long fingers dig into my inner thighs, he spreads his long fingers apart, so that my flesh pops out in between his fingers. And that flesh, jutting out tightly is what he targets with his devilishly beautiful mouth.
“Oh Gosh,” I cry out in pleasure and the pain of wanting more of it. This seems to amuse him as he comes back up to look at me and then between my thighs.
“I want to taste that again,” he says with a growl. But now he also bites these mounds of flesh between each finger at a time, bite, and lick, bite, and lick one at a time till he has completed the journey for both my thighs.
Oh heaven!
“Now do you have some idea how you make me feel?” he says with a satisfied smirk, but his own feelings of desire make his voice heavy. “Perhaps I did not make it clear enough.” His hands are still holding my thighs in the same position. I look down to see the glistening flesh of my thighs peeping helplessly from between his spread-out fingers. The flesh has gone pink. “Maybe you need another explanation?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say instinctively. It is a yes that barely hides my pleading. This time he brings his front lower teeth to graze against the trapped mounds of flesh, each pinch of his teeth followed by a lash of his hot tongue. I am already moving from side to side, my knees pushing against the lowered skirt. My pussy is wet with wanting the same treatment.
He releases my thighs and comes back up to look at me. “I hope you now have some idea of how trapped I feel when you wear that skirt, Miss Banner. I hope you feel guilty for the way you have tortured me.”
His handsome face is a little flushed from all that rubbing and kissing, and a few strands of his beautiful wavy hair fall forward. I look down to my thighs. The parts that his fingers dug into are long cylinders of white, and the mounds of flesh that he kissed, are bright pink.
He realizes what I am looking at. “You deserved that.”
Punish me more you handsome freak!
I begin to tremble as he slides his hand once again between my thighs. This time he goes further. His fingers are sliding over my panties, he is obviously feeling the warm pulsing as I ache for his skin. But the lace silk separates his touch from my aching core. As if sensing my desire, he slips a finger underneath the silk, and rubs the sensitive skin on my pussy. I feel the heat rising from my thighs to my neck. My cheeks have probably turned red, and now my knees are ripping against my skirt.
