16. Emily
16
EMILY
M y skirt and panties are discarded in a hasty, urgent mess. I’m perched on his office chair, the leather cool against my bare skin, my breathing already ragged as I stare down at him.
His hands rest on my thighs, firm but gentle, spreading me open with a confident insistence that sends a jolt of anticipation through my veins.
The room feels smaller, the world reduced to the space between us and the electric pull of his touch. His fingers glide up my inner thighs, a slow, deliberate journey that makes me shiver.
I feel the heat of his breath, so close to where I need him most, and I can't help the whimper that escapes my lips.
He smirks, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat. “Patience,” he murmurs, his voice rich and teasing, sending another shiver down my spine. He leans in, his lips ghosting over my skin, barely there, as if savoring the anticipation as much as I am.
The softness of his mouth contrasts with the calloused touch of his fingers, creating a symphony of sensations that leaves me breathless.
His tongue makes the first contact, a light, teasing flick against my clit that makes my hips jerk involuntarily. I gasp, my fingers curling into the armrests of the chair, desperate for something to hold on to.
He doesn’t give me a chance to recover; he’s relentless, mouth and fingers working in a rhythm that’s both torturous and blissful.
Each stroke, each caress is precise, almost too much, yet not nearly enough. He’s mapped out every inch of me, knows exactly where to touch, where to linger, where to apply just the right amount of pressure to make my breath hitch and my body tense.
I try to control the rising tide of pleasure, try to bite back the moans that threaten to spill from my lips. My head falls back, eyes squeezed shut as I battle for some semblance of composure, but he isn’t having it.
His hands tighten on my thighs, holding me firmly in place as he increases his pace, tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers slipping inside me with a rhythm that is maddeningly perfect.
I can feel myself teetering on the edge, the coil of desire winding tighter and tighter inside me.
“Lucas,” I manage to gasp out, laced with a desperate plea. I’m so close, so unbearably close, and he knows it. His mouth moves faster, his fingers curling inside me in a way that makes my entire body tremble.
The tension builds and builds, a sweet, aching pressure that has me writhing in his chair, my hands reaching down to grasp his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.
He hums against me, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body, and it’s the final push I need. My world shatters, pleasure crashing over me in intense, overwhelming waves.
I cry out, a soft, broken sound that fills the small office space, my body arching off the chair as I come undone. Every muscle tenses, every nerve alight with the fire of release.
His name is a moan on my lips, repeated like a prayer as the climax ripples through me, each wave stronger than the last.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, his fingers and mouth guiding me through the crest of my orgasm, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from my trembling body until I’m left breathless and utterly spent.
My chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, my mind floating in a haze of euphoria. Slowly, he eases up, his movements becoming softer, more languid, until he finally pulls away.
I feel the cool air brush against my overly sensitive skin, and my eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. There’s a gleam of satisfaction there, a possessive pride that makes my pulse quicken even in the afterglow.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving mine, and a slow, almost predatory smile spreads across his lips.
“I could do that all day,” he says, his voice low and rough with desire, and I can’t help but shiver at the promise in his tone.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, still coming down from the high, but I manage a shaky smile, my body still tingling from the aftereffects of his touch. “I might just let you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and filled with a mix of exhaustion and desire.
For a moment, I’m lost in the sensation, my mind blank, my body humming with satisfaction. But as the pleasure ebbs away, reality crashes back in with brutal force.
I’m sitting in the office, in his chair, my body still trembling from the orgasm he gave me, and the full weight of what just happened slams into me like a freight train.
I’ve just submitted to him, given him exactly what he wanted, and I hate myself for it. But as I look up at Lucas, standing over me with a satisfied smirk on his face, I know this is only the beginning.
He reaches down, lifting me from the chair with surprising gentleness, and begins to dress me again, as if I’m some delicate possession he needs to care for. I’m too shaken, too emotionally drained to fight him. I just let him do it, feeling more like a puppet than a person.
Once I’m dressed, he takes my hand, his grip firm but not painful, and leads me out of the office. I follow him in a daze, my mind still reeling from everything that’s just happened.
I don’t know where we’re going, and right now, I don’t have the strength to ask. All I know is that I think I just lost a battle I needed to win.
His hand is firm on my arm as he leads me down the hall, the plush carpet muffling our footsteps. I feel like I’m walking through a dream—or maybe a nightmare.
My mind is still reeling from what just happened in his office, and now I’m being guided somewhere else, somewhere I know can’t be good.