Lip Service – By CJ Warrant #2
He quickly stands, unzips his pants and pulls out his impressive erection. Long, veiny, and thick. I crave the taste of his skin, and the slick seeping out of the tip.
“What are you going to do with me?” John bites his lower lip and starts jacking himself.
“If we had more time, I’d bend you over that sink and fuck that tight ass of yours.
Instead, this will have to be good enough for now.
” I spit into my hand and take hold of his steely length.
I tighten my grip around his meaty flesh and stroke him slow and easy.
He hates it and loves it when I tease him like this.
“Rick.” My nickname on his lips is music to my ears.
I love the way his head tips back, exposing his jaw and smooth neck to me.
His mouth is slightly parted, and oh, fuck, he’s beautiful to look at, especially when his pupils are blown wide with passion and honed in on me.
There’s so much heat in his gaze that he makes me feel a hundred feet tall.
I draw him up close, and our groins connect. “What do you want, baby?” I demand, lining up our cocks. Our fingers automatically link into a tight fist that surrounds both our shafts.
I relish the heat between our bodies. With precum seeping out of our tips, we don’t need lube. Our hips pump in sync with each feverish slide of our hands. It’s a dance we both know well.
One, two, three, and I feel the familiar sizzle at the base of my spine moving to my tightening balls. Neither of us lasts long as cum shoots out of our dicks, going all over our hands. Some even gets on the sink and the mirror.
Our foreheads touch, our breaths mingle, and then our lips connect. I sweep my tongue into his mouth and take all he has to give me.
“The meeting is in fifteen minutes.” John’s whisper snaps me out of my lust-filled stupor. “We need to clean up.”
With reluctance, I step back and smile at the look of satisfaction on his face. “You’re right. The sooner we get this done the better.”
I pull out of his arms, and wash and dry my hands. Then I use the damp towel to clean the jizz off the sink and mirror.
A few seconds after, my ex sends me a text message—a reminder of the upcoming meeting and a request to call her afterward.
I roll my eyes, since the first part of that message is a repeat of the one she sent thirty minutes ago. The second half is her way of trying to get into my pants again. I broke it off with her three years ago after I caught her sucking a client’s dick in this very bathroom.
“So fucking annoying,” I mutter, and delete the message.
“Who was that?” John washes his hands, but his eyes are on me.
“The bitch in heels. She’s reminding me of the meeting.”
“Does she forget that you have an assistant?” John quirks his right eyebrow at me. “Or is she aiming for Leah’s job? Oh—does she think you’re going to take her back?”
“No. She’ll never be in my bed again.”
John isn’t stupid. He knows I’m right about my assessment of my mother’s personal assistant. Ever since she was hired, Jessica has made numerous attempts, both with her verbal tactics and her blatant actions, to get me into her bed.
“She can’t have what’s mine,” John growls, a spark blazing in his big eyes.
He and Jessica have never gotten along, but since John and I got together last year, the tension between them has worsened.
Needing a change in topic before John starts a tirade, I ask, “What’s going on after that fiasco last week at the trade party?”
“Mr. Bonner still refuses to take ownership of that mishap —his word, not mine. Wherever he bought that Indonesian spiced oil from, he’s not saying. Thirty percent of the attendees had rashes in places where there shouldn’t ever be a rash,” John declares with a shiver.
“I don’t want that fuck up happening again,” I proclaim with a bit of a bite. It’s not John’s fault that a client brought in a foreign sensual product and shared it at his private party. The problem is that Mr. Bonner didn’t confirm with us that it was safe to use.
“I know, but it seems nothing I say will make him tell us where he got that shit from.”
“Who approved it?” I ask while straightening my clothes.
John closes his eyes for a second before shaking his head. “Katie Donahue. She was the lead planner for that event.”
Shit. My cousin’s assistant. “Why didn’t she approach us first for approval?”
“Katie told me that she went to Brand, and he approved the oil.”
I groan. “Why am I not surprised. This is just another item on my list of shit he’s doing that goes against the company’s rules.”
Ever since my cousin, Angelo Brand, got on the board a year and a half ago, bad decisions and unusual occurrences have been happening, and it’s hampering our sales.
We are losing clients. And I’m not going to idly sit by and watch my mother’s hard work suffer because of that son of a bitch.
Especially now that I have proof that he’s been stealing from my mother.
“Today is the day to finish it,” John says as he looks in the mirror and fixes his black tie.
“I’m going take him down,” I vow softly, appraising John from head to toe. “By the end of this meeting, he’ll be out.”
“Good riddance,” he agrees, then smooths his hand down his jacket. “Are you ready?”
I pull in a calming breath, because walking into that meeting angry would only add fuel to the fire. “Yeah. I’m good.” I smile and lean in for a kiss.
But John pulls away before I get another taste of his lips. He looks into the mirror again and says, “Nope. Now, how do I look?”
“Fuckable.” I aim a lascivious grin his way.
He snorts. “Don’t start, or you’re going to make my dick hard again, and I don’t want to walk into that boardroom with an erection.”
I wrap an arm around his waist, pulling his back to me, and whisper in his ear. “Then don’t be so fuckable.” I bite his earlobe and step back.
“Greedy fucker,” John says as he unlocks the door and walks out.
I take a last glance at myself, making sure my suit is pristine and my dark blond hair is in place. I then follow my boyfriend out of the bathroom to the meeting, to throw my worthless, piece-of-shit cousin out on his ass for good.
Ava
They’re gone now, but my chest still feels hot, and my panties are drenched from that visual feast. Yes, I could have closed my eyes and covered my ears, but why? It was fascinating to watch, and I’ve never encountered anything like that before.
I suppose I should feel guilty for spying on their private foray, but I simply couldn’t help it. And for the first time ever, I nearly orgasmed without my hands, from just watching two beautiful, gorgeously tall, mouth-watering men, dressed in expensive suits, jerking each other off.
By no means, am I a prude. There’s a time and a place for sexy fun—but in a public bathroom isn’t one of them—especially not while I’m hiding inside this damn stall.
I’m no voyeur… Or maybe?—
I shake off that thought, lower my cramping legs to the floor, and flush. I grab my purse from the hook, put the strap over my shoulder, and hurry out of the stall to wash my hands.
I glance down and there, on the counter, is a cell phone.
Crap . I’m going to pretend I didn’t see it.
I spin around to leave, but my toe catches on the hem of my skirt and I fall to my knees. My purse slips off my shoulder and its contents spill onto the floor. Tampons, crumpled up papers where I’ve written random ideas, my wallet, some change… and a butterfly vibrator?
Damn you, Georgia.
I’m sure my roommate slipped that into my purse as a joke, thinking it would be funny to have a remote-controlled clitoris stimulator go off during the meeting. Hmm. I could have used it five minutes ago, after those guys got me all hot and bothered.
On my hands and knees, I quickly retrieve the items and shove them in my purse. I scoop up my wallet and tampons in one hand and snatch up the butterfly in the other, just as the vibrator turns on in my palm.
Since I seem to be a magnet for Murphy’s law, the damn bathroom door opens and a set of shoes comes into view. My heart rate ratchets up when I look up and see one of the men who, albeit unknowingly, performed for me.
I suck in a breath as my eyes meet dark blue. Embarrassment shoots up my spine and heat floods my body at the memory of what this man did.
One of his eyebrows quirks up and his lips tip up into a smirk, reminding me of an impish child, ready to do something naughty—oops, he’s already done that.
“I… Um… Sorry.” Flustered, my fingers grip the sex toy tighter, and the hum reverberates through the bathroom.
Just kill me now .
I can’t breathe… talk… nothing. My heart simply stops beating at the mortification.
“Do you need a little more time?” he asks. His voice. It reminds me of the one I heard on the television, in the reception area.
Since I’m still on my knees, and eye level with his crotch, my mind goes right back to five minutes earlier and envisions his erection in the hands of the other man.
“Miss, are you all right?”
I’ve lost the art of speech as I watch his large hand touch mine—the same hand that’s gripping the butterfly.
Jesus, I know what those fingers can do.
“Miss?” The hard slap of that word snaps me out of my lustful thoughts.
“W-what?” I stutter, clutching the vibrating stimulator to my chest.
“Are, you, all right?” he slowly repeats like I’m an idiot. Maybe I am.
Get a grip, Ava! He’s not for you. He’s gay. Who cares if his goatee causes goose flesh to ripple across your skin.
“I’m fine,” I utter shakily. I inhale and try to stand, but my legs are like wet noodles.
“Here, let me help you up.” With a hand on my arm, he pulls me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I say, the vibrator still humming in my hand. I look down at it and shut it off.
“Hmm. It’s one of ours,” he says with a chuckle.
“Umm. Sorry. My friend Vagina…” Fuck! “I mean, my friend Georgia put this in my bag as a joke.” I nervously titter and wave the clitoris stimulator in his face.