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His breathing is ragged, rough pants falling from his lips and raising goosebumps along my skin.
“Why were you in here with him?”
With his other hand, he shoves my skirt up over my hips. Cool air breezes over the bare skin of my ass clad only in a thong. It’s in direct contrast with the heat of his hand when he places it on my cheek.
He palms my ass, squeezing the flesh possessively as he waits for me to answer. When I don’t, too overcome with the way he touches me, he spanks me.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
A pulse of heat shoots straight to my center.
He spanks me again and I clench my pussy in response, arousal leaking out of me.
“Don’t make me ask you again, Nera,” he warns, the tone of his voice like the edge of a sharpened blade.
“I was talking to him about something,” I say, stubbornly.
His hand comes down on my ass again, this time blow after blow, heating the skin of my cheeks until they’re raw. Every hit is a mix of pain and pleasure that races straight to my clit until I’m clenching my shaking thighs to keep from coming.
I’m embarrassed by how easily I’m on the brink. I need to hold off, the last thing I want is him realizing that he controls my orgasms like I’m a puppet on a string and he’s my master.
“Tristan,” I say, my voice trembling with the effort of holding it together.
He chuckles darkly against my ear, his mouth coming down to kiss the curve of my neck.
My skin stings as his hand comes down once more, this time hitting the sensitive flesh where my thighs meet my ass. I go up onto my toes but he forces me back down, landing another blow on my sensitive bottom.
Two fingers slip beneath the band of my thong and down between my cheeks. They part my folds and slide through my slickened slit.
“You’re soaked,” he praises, his voice liquid heat and so smug it sends a deranged shudder through me. “But not enough. I want your cum dripping down your thighs before I fuck you.”
He presses down on my clit and as easily as if he’d pulled the trigger of a gun, he sets off an explosive orgasm. My knees fold as the unexpected but powerful climax hits me. I moan loudly, glad to have the desk supporting me as my body becomes weightless and limp.
One touch.
That’s all it took for him to break me apart.
Like last time, I’m trying to wrap my head around how he can make me come so easily while I’m still fighting through the physical assault of my orgasm.
My face flushes and I turn away from him, embarrassed that I came when he barely touched me.
Not one to miss an opportunity to gloat, he covers my body with his and whispers against my ear, “Your body craves my touch.Mytouch. All it takes is a couple strokes to have you coming so prettily for me.”
I want to argue with the gloating bastard, but I have no leg to stand on.
“If you want to come again today, you’ll answer my questions.”
I whip my face back around, pressing my cheek against the table as I look over my shoulder at him.
“You won’t fuck me?” I hate how needy my voice sounds.
He laughs darkly, like I’ve just said something incredibly funny. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you either way. But just as easily as I know how to make you come, I can withhold your pleasure if you insist on playing with me.” He nips at my lower lip and whispers, “Remember the elevator.”
I make a disappointed noise, writhing against the table and arching my hips back at him.
“Tristan,” I moan.
I can hear the frustration in my voice. I want, no Ineed, him to keep touching me.
