Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I don’t need to be invited twice. I close the space between us, tip her head back, and kiss her deep, the bare skin of my chest hot against her naked flesh. My hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing the column of her neck in the dim light. My grip is gentle, but firm as I run my lips along the edge of her throat, waiting until she emits the softest moan.
Then I release her, watching with a small smirk as she wavers on her feet, bewildered as to why I’ve let her go. I unfurl the fluffy towel I grabbed from the back, whipping it over the hard plastic grooming table like I’m a magician transforming the surface. I move to the far end and remove the curved metal grooming arm arcing over the top, setting it aside on the floor. Then I turn back to where she watches me.
“Bend over and hold the edge, Mrs. Richie.”
I say it in a voice I’ve been developing just for her. One that’s deep and authoritative, that seems to grab her attention, gets her mind to stop spinning. Focus. Follow directions.
And that’s what she does. Stretching her arms out across the towel-covered table, gripping the far edge in her hands, presenting her bottom adorned in an uncharacteristic purple thong that is both a surprise and a delight .
“Like this?” she asks.
In response, I run my hands along her back, over her hips, down her legs. Tracing every major curve before me in the dim light, trying to memorize each one so I can revisit the way she looks right now in my mind forever. Slowly, I let my fingers drift back up along her skin until I reach her ass, where I let my fingers glide in worshipful circles over her cheeks. She tenses almost imperceptibly, and I draw out my movements, making sure she’s very aware of how her backside is thrust out, presented to me.
“Lydia?” My voice comes out husky and deep, and I have to pull one hand back briefly to adjust my pants around my hard-on.
“Yes,” she answers, barely above a whisper.
“Do you remember what I told you about spanking?”
I knead her flesh lightly, tracing the rim of her thong, giving her a moment with her thoughts.
“Yes,” she finally says, slightly louder than before.
“And when I described the benefits I’d read about, did you like the sound of it?” I ask in a matching tone.
She takes less time to answer, muttering an almost impatient, “Yes.”
“Good.” I lean in, releasing a hot puff of breath against one of her beautiful, curved ass cheeks, following it with a reverent kiss.
And then I wait.
Her hips shift after several seconds, tilting her backside slightly toward me. When I don’t make a move, she clears her throat. “Anton?”
“Yes, Mrs. Richie?”
“Are you going to, um . . . ?”
A smile tugs at my lips. I lay a second breathy kiss against her opposite cheek, teasing the inside edge of her thong with my finger.
“Is that a request?”
I don’t have to see her face to know it must be burning. Not many seconds pass before I clearly see her nod in the shadows.
“Going to need verbal confirmation, Lydia,” I say, stepping back, pulling my hand away from her heated flesh. I’m dying a little, looking at her without touching, but this is another thing we’ve been working on. It wasn’t long ago I discovered, to my horror, that she sometimes went through the motions when she wasn’t fully on board. “I won’t do it if I’m not sure it’s what you want.”
Lydia exhales, but stays as I’ve positioned her, and there’s just enough light that I see when her thighs squeeze together.
“Yes,” she whispers, voice raw and urgent. “Do it. Please.”
That’s all I need.
My hand comes down on each side of her ass in quick succession, the smack of her flesh beneath my palm in the quiet shop delivering a surprising jolt to my dick.
“How’s that?” I ask in a husky voice.
All I get back is a whimpered, “Again.”
I lay two more slaps to her rounded cheeks. But then, instead of raising my hand a third time, I place both my palms against her heated skin, rubbing away the sting while I sense her body coming alive. Slowly, I drift one hand down the stretch of thin purple thong, sucking in a hallowed breath when I find the fabric already soaked.
“Oh, Mrs. Richie,” I murmur. “This is what happens when you work too much.”
I stroke my finger up and down over the outside of her panties, pressing them into her skin so she can feel how wet she’s made them. And then I peel them away, sliding the lacy purple fabric down over her ass and letting it pool at her toes. I take a fraction of a second to admire the peek of her glistening mound before I move in with my tongue.
“ Oh, ” she utters, with a slight startle. I’ve never come at her from behind like this. It’s weird and backward and wonderful, running my tongue from her clit all the way up to dip inside her, spreading her taste up between her cheeks with my mouth.
My cock is full-on throbbing as the scene sinks in. Lydia, naked in the back of Ooh La Pooch, bent over a grooming table with my face between her legs. If there was a fantasy I could’ve unlocked all those desperate months ago, before we found our way back to each other, this was definitely it. I’m so fucking turned on, I have to yank myself to stand so I can get my pants off before I come.
“Guess we should’ve discussed your work habits sooner,” I say, and I think I actually hear her mewl when I rub the tip of my cock in her juices, painting them all over the insides of her thighs. “Turn around, Lydia.”
She takes a breath, then follows my instruction. I guide her back onto the table, positioning her right on the edge, and—fun fact—many dog grooming tables adjust higher and lower with the press of an electric switch. The one Lydia is spread over is already pretty high, so with a light hum, I lower her pussy so it’s exactly level with my cock.
“We’ve got to get one of these for home,” I mutter, and she covers her face and laughs.
I smirk at the sound, glad to lighten the mood for a moment, but I don’t want to lose her, so I reach out and knead her ample breasts, coaxing and pulling at her nipples until she gasps.
“Are you ready?” I ask, positioning myself outside her entrance.
“Yes,” she breathes, raising her gaze to stare up at me.
And I can’t stand it a second longer. I ease into her in one barely restrained plunge.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I get seated. Then it’s only a moment before I start to move. At this perfect angle, we seem to fit like we were made for one another, and I quickly find a rhythm, grabbing her legs and holding them up on either side of me as I thrust.
When I open my eyes again, her head is turned toward the back wall, and I realize with a surge of lust she’s watching us in the mirror. Her own body splayed out naked on the tabletop, legs in the air, tits bouncing as I thrust.
I lean over her. “From now on, every time you come into this shop to work, I want you to look in that mirror and imagine yourself on this table, getting fucked.”
Her body jolts at my words. Scandalized, embarrassed, but also a new, shiny thing— clearly turned on. I slide my hands between us, my thumb coming to rest against her clit, my other hand squeezing one taught nipple. She bucks in response, and I pound into her with new intensity, watching her writhe under me, clamping around me.
In that moment, I want nothing more than to pull out and shoot my load, empty myself all over her glorious, naked form. But the one thing in the world better than fucking Lydia in her workplace after hours is doing it with a purpose .
So when she comes, bucking her hips off the table with a shout, I let go deep inside her, sending my seed into her depths with a satisfied groan.