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"Yeah?" I said. "Well Katy couldn't even look me in the eye when I came in here," I told him. "It's different for me."
That seemed to have an effect. A frown shadowed his eyes. "Katy?" he said. "Really?" He pursed his lips and thought about this. "Do you want me to fire her?"
"What? No!" I'm not that vindictive. "I just... I feel totally humiliated. You might not have any friends or family, but I do, and the next time I see them this is all they're going to be thinking about."
"I have a family," Anton said. His voice faltered slightly, and I realized I'd touched a nerve. I tried to wave it away.
"It doesn't matter. Didn't you think about what could happen when you chose those places to fuck?"
For a long moment, Anton stared at me. His green eyes, so startling and brilliant in his handsome face, were thoughtful. "No," he said at last. "No, I didn't. And you're right. I should have."
Slightly mollified, I crossed my arms. "Yeah... well... think about it next time."
He smiled at that. To my surprise, he pushed back from his desk and stood up. "I can't guarantee that," he told me. He rounded his desk, his smooth, predatory gait calling to something primal in me. I was such a sucker.
"Why can't you guarantee that?" I asked him. He drew close, looming over me, and I was reminded of our very first encounter here in this office, when he seduced me. He hadn't made me come, only touched me, stoking a fire inside that was so violent and out of control that I had to quench it myself the moment I was alone. Even now, just thinking about it, I was turned on.
I didn't want to be. I wanted to think rationally and calmly, but it felt like the moment Anton had entered my life that my reason had taken a flying leap off a cliff. And I liked it. I really didn't like how much I liked it.
I was losing myself in Anton.
Glittering green eyes stared down at me. "I'm sorry, Felicia," he said. "I will do my best in the future to remember the potential consequences of acting on my, ah, more exhibitionist impulses." He extended a hand, running his fingers down my cheek. I gazed up at him, uncertain what to say, wanting only to fall into his arms. It would be easy to do so. A strong man is hard to resist.
He leaned down and kissed me, stealing my breath. His mouth was hot and soft, but undemanding. Gently he nibbled and massaged my lips with his. My body heated at the tenderness in his kiss, reveling in the feeling of his arms as they circled around me. Large, warm hands traveled up and down my back, cupping my ass, tracing my spine. His body met mine, soft against hard, and I was melting against him.
He pulled away for a moment, cradling my head in his hand. His eyes, desire-drugged, explored my face, as though looking for something there. "You make me forget myself, Felicia," he whispered.
"Oh," I said. Inexplicably, tears stung my eyes, but he was already kissing me again, obscuring whatever sweet, soft revelation I was about to uncover with the magic of his touch, and I closed my eyes.
His body moved against mine and he broke away again, planting kisses against my throat, his hands smoothing over my breasts, circling my ribcage, as if he could hold all of me in the palms of his hands. My own fingers tangled in his rich, dark hair, and I couldn't help but sigh as he lowered himself to the floor, kneeling before me.
I was wearing a skirt again, a heavy wool thing, and again I wore no panties. I was so thoroughly his that I didn't even think about it now. I was so trained to want his touch that I almost never wore jeans any more. The realization sent a tiny spark of apprehension through me, but then Anton ran his fingertips lightly up the backs of my thighs and I pushed it away, unwilling to examine it.
Slowly, he lifted the hem of my skirt and planted a warm, chaste kiss on my mound, letting the skirt fall over his head as he moved his hands to my ass cheeks and began to massage them in an insistent rhythm. The rhythm of sex, of thrusting. I moaned as his tongue escaped his mouth and dipped into the delta of my thighs, hot and wet against the nub of my clit. He took up a soft, relentless pattern, thrusting his tongue over my clit where it hid, mashed between my closed legs, until my knees weakened and I parted for him.
Pressure on my hips had me backing up into his desk, and he lifted me up until I sat on the edge. Parting my thighs with the palms of his hands, he exposed me to the cool air, my soaking pussy quivering with the sudden change in temperature.
"Lean back," he instructed. I did so, placing my palms flat on the desk behind me as he spread the lips of my pussy with one hand.
I watched as he studied my inner folds, almost clinically, but the darkening of his eyes told me all I needed to know. If I reached one foot down, I would find an erection as hard as a rock in his trousers.
"You are beautiful," he said then, breaking the tense anticipation of the moment. Placing one long, lean finger on my clit, he traced small, slow circles around it with the tip. Each stroke sent a shudder through my body, and I couldn't resist. I was putty in his hands. Throwing my head back, I let him circle, circle, circle me, commanding my pleasure with a single point of contact. I sighed and moaned, spread out on his desk like a banquet, until his tiny, sweet, merciless circles spiraled out, out along my limbs, curling in my belly, and I came in small, short bursts.
He stood, undoing his trousers with a practiced motion, then reached up and helped me out of my skirt, letting it fall to the floor as he inched my shirt up over my stomach until it bunched beneath my breasts.
“Lie back,” he said, and I did. Defying him didn't even cross my mind now. All I wanted was pleasure—his and mine. His hands circled my ankles and brought my legs up, perpendicular to my torso, and pressed them together so my pussy was open and exposed to him. Languid and content, I lay on the desk as he coated his cock in my slippery juices, preparing myself for entry.
But he didn't enter me. Instead he slid his cock between my legs, letting it glide against my sensitive clit, and began to fuck my thighs. His arms wrapped around my knees like iron, and I gripped his desk as he pleasured himself with my body. The soft head of his dick slipped against my clit over and over again, my world narrowing to the point between my legs. His belt buckle slapped against my ass with each thrust, and I writhed, aching for him to fill me. He was like a drug. I was an addict.
Then he stuttered in his stroke and grunted, thrusting harder. Warm cum spurted from his cock in quick, short bursts, spattering up my stomach, marking me as his. I wiggled, needing completion, and without comment he reached down and plunged a finger into my pussy, pumping me hard and fast as his cum cooled on my skin, his cock still rigid and hard on my clit.
I strained and arched, and within moments I was coming a second time, the world melting around me, my body melding with his.
When I was finished, he lowered my shirt down over his cum and plastered it to me. He helped me to my feet and steadied me as I worked my skirt back up over my trembling legs. I closed my leather jacket around my upper body and tied
it in place so no one would see the stain on my shirt. Anton kissed me again before releasing me.
"I'm sorry, Felicia," he said. "I will be more mindful in the future. In the meantime, I'm betting you should update that blog of yours and tell all. I wouldn't be surprised if you made some sales out of this."
