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The kind of good that was off-limits until she called medarling. Now nothing else matters.
I twist her body around, scooping her in my arms so I can lean her back against my hands and bow my head to her tits.
Her hands come to my head, her fingers sinking into my hair, as I nuzzle her breasts. She smells heavenly, like sex and secrets and a hint of sunshine, just enough to reassure me this is fucking right. This is meant to be, and we’ll sort out the damage on Monday.
HR isn’t going to like that she’s got my beard imprinted on the tender flesh between her young tits. That’s…not ideal. Except it actuallyisideal for me and for Clover, so HR can get fucked.
I’ll sign a pre-nup that gives her the entire company. A reverse pre-nup. An “erase the power imbalance” kind of pre-nup.
I inhale her scent deeply as I drag my nose to the tip of one breast. Then I swirl my tongue around the tip, savoring the way it immediately rises to attention. Good little nipple. Eager to please.
That makes two of us.
Clover is whimpering, her breath jerking in and out of her gorgeous body.
“Deep breaths, darling,” I warn her. She needs to pace herself. We’re going to be doing this all night.
“Rufus, that feels so good,” she gasps. “Suck harder.”
Gladly.
I pull most of her breast into my mouth, and the unholy moan she makes is music to my ears. Fuck. Yes.
I repeat the deep pull on the other side, then lick back and forth until she begs me to do it again. And again.
When I finally release her, she’s shaking in my arms and she’s kicked off one heel and is precariously balancing on the other.
I carefully kneel at her feet and help her out of the dangerous footwear. Then I kiss her thighs, and her knees, before stretching out on the floor between her legs.
She stares down at me.
I grin.
Her makeup is a mess. I fucking love it, but I’ll have to get her into the shower or something without her seeing a mirror.
Later.
First, I need to taste her cunt.
Don’t call your assistant’s pussy a cunt, Rufus.
Don’t call your future wife your assistant right before you demand she sit on your face, dickwad.
I’m only going to be able to remember one of those rules, so the A-word is gone, and the C-word can stay. Because my future wife’s cunt needs to be on my face, right fucking now.
“I should warn you, I get explicit when I’m turned on,” I tell her as I curl my hand around her calf.
She huffs a shaky laugh. “Is that so?”
“Come here.”
“Where?”
“Down here.”
“Down there.”
I see she needs some coaching. I nod. “I told you, I want you to call me Mister while you sit on my face.”
