Aubrey #2
His hands go to my waistband. He gets my pants open without fumbling. Then he's kneeling again, drawing my pants and underwear down my thighs while I stand there with my wrists tied and my back against privacy glass in the room where he probably threatens board members with spreadsheets.
I step out... one foot, then the other. He keeps a hand near my bad ankle. He sets the clothes aside.
Then his mouth is on my thigh.
He kisses higher then puts his mouth on my pussy.
My head hits the glass.
He groans once, and the vibration moves through my clit so sharply my bound wrists pull against the tie.
His tongue circles my clit, slow, then firm. I bite down on a sound and fail halfway.
"Don't swallow it," he says.
"Easy for you to say," I gasp.
He pulls back just enough to look up. "You're dripping wet."
I make a noise that should never be heard by any living soul.
"That embarrasses you?" he asks.
"Yes."
He grins, his lips and chin glistening. "Good."
I glare at him. "Excuse me?"
"Good," he repeats. "Be embarrassed. Be furious. Be wet. I don't care. Just don't lie to me while my mouth is on your pussy."
My thighs shake.
He goes back to my clit.
I last maybe thirty seconds.
Maybe.
I pull against the tie because I need my hands in his hair or on his shoulders or over my own mouth. He feels me getting close and his hand tightens at my hip.
Then he stops.
I stare down at him. "No."
He grins wickedly. "Yes."
"Linden," I plea.
His smile becomes mischievous, though still hungry. "Why are we here?"
I'm panting. I would like to be more dignified about that, but apparently dignity left with my pants. "Because I'm bad at fan fiction."
His mouth presses against my inner thigh. "Try again."
"Because you're a control freak with good bone structure," I gasp.
He shakes his head. "Aubrey."
I close my eyes. The words are right there and I hate them. "Because... because I wanted you."
His hand stills.
I open my eyes.
He's looking at me from between my thighs, the public husband act gone, and all I can see is the man from the elevator, the bar, the suite, the courthouse steps.
"Again," he says.
My laugh comes out shaky. "You're such an asshole."
He doesn't move.
"I wanted you," I tell him.
He stands so fast I press back into the glass. His mouth is on mine, and I taste myself. My tied hands are between us, trapped against his chest. I feel his heart beating hard under my knuckles.
He guides me away from the glass and toward the desk. "Sit."
I do, partly because I want to and partly because my ankle is grateful. The desk is cool under my thighs. He steps between them, still fully dressed except for the missing tie, and the imbalance makes my pussy clench again.
He opens a locked drawer, unzips a case, and removes a brand new vibrator.
I stare. "Do you have a horny drawer in every room?"
He shrugs. "I bought supplies. For you."
Oh.
He turns it on low and touches it to my inner thigh. I flinch. He waits. I nod.
When the vibrator reaches my clit, my hips jerk so hard he has to catch me at the waist.
"Too much?" he asks.
"No. Yes. I don't know. But don't stop, damn it."
He holds the vibrator to my clit until I'm shaking, then moves it away.
"Don't stop," I squeal.
His hand moves between my legs. Two fingers slide through my wetness, slow enough to make my shoulders tense, then he pulls away again. "Beg."
"Please, you infuriating man."
He pushes one finger into my pussy, then adds a second. My head drops back. His fingers curl, finding the spot inside me that makes it hard to think.
The vibrator returns to my clit. My pussy clenches around his fingers. I try to close my thighs, but he's standing between them.
"Cum for me," he orders.
I do. It rips through me hard enough that my bound hands hit his chest. He keeps the vibrator on my clit through the first waves until I gasp, "Yellow."
He clicks it off and moves it away instantly, before setting it aside. His fingers stay inside me while my pussy pulses around them.
"Good?" he asks.
"Yes," I gasp.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, then brings them to his mouth and tastes me while I watch. "You taste so fucking good."
His cock is hard beneath his trousers. I reach for his belt, but the tie catches.
"Do you want out?" he asks.
"Yes," I reply.
No hesitation. He unties me, checking the skin beneath the tie with his thumb. I flex my fingers, then pull his belt open.
"Condom," he says.
He takes a condom from the horny drawer case and sets it beside my thigh.
He gets his trousers open, and then his cock is in my hands, hot and heavy and throbbing. I stroke him once. His hand comes down on the desk beside my hip.
"Careful," he says.
"Instruction or warning?" I tease.
My fingers tighten around his cock. His eyes close for one second.
I want him in my mouth, so I slide off the desk carefully, but he catches my waist.
"Your ankle," he says.
"I'm not made of porcelain," I reply stubbornly.
"On the desk," he orders.
I sigh, then sit back because my ankle does hurt and because I want him too much to waste time proving I can stand. He rolls the condom down over his cock with fingers that seem barely restrained.
He steps between my thighs.
"Last chance to send me to my room," I say.
His eyes lift. "Don't joke unless you mean it."