Desmond #3
I rolled off the bed, my pants still unzipped, cock semi-hard and glistening from her mouth.
She eyed me warily, lips parted as if to speak, but I shot her a look that silenced her.
“Up,” I said, voice low and edged with command.
She pushed herself to sit, legs dangling over the edge, the city skyline mocking her vulnerability through the window behind us.
I grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her to her feet, then spun her to face away from me.
Her bound wrists — still loosely tied from earlier — hung in front, but I didn't untie them yet.
Instead, I pressed my body against her back, letting her feel the heat of my erection stirring against her ass.
“You've been bad, Anya,” I murmured into her ear, nipping the lobe hard enough to make her flinch.
“Lying to staff, sneaking into my room, sending me those pictures to distract me during my conference. You think you can play games with me?” My hands slid down her sides.
She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin, but stayed quiet, learning her lesson from the edging.
I guided her toward the desk by the window, the one with my conference notes scattered across it.
“Bend over,” I ordered, and she complied, leaning forward until her elbows rested on the cool wood, ass presented to me.
But I wasn't entering her — not this time.
No, this punishment needed to be different, more frustrating, to match the slow burn she'd inflicted on me all day.
I stepped between her legs, but instead of spreading them wide, I pressed her thighs together, trapping my cock between the soft, sweat-damp flesh.
She glanced back over her shoulder, confusion flickering in her eyes, but I gripped her hips, holding her steady.
“Thighs,” I growled. “You're going to squeeze them tight around me.
Make it good, or I'll stop and leave you like this — aching and empty.” Her muscles tensed, clamping down, the pressure immediate and exquisite.
Her skin was smooth, thighs plush from the day's tension, now slick with our earlier mess.
I thrust forward experimentally, the head of my cock sliding along her inner thighs, brushing her swollen cunt with each pass but never dipping inside.
The friction built slowly as I rocked my hips, fucking the tight channel she'd formed.
Every slide forward teased her clit indirectly, the ridge of my shaft grazing it, but it was deliberate — too light to satisfy, just enough to keep her on edge.
She bit her lip, stifling a whimper, her bound hands clenching into fists on the desk.
I reached around, pinching one nipple, twisting until she arched her back, pressing her thighs harder against me.
“That's it,” I praised, voice rough. “Hold still. Let me use you.” My pace stayed measured, pulling back until only the tip nestled between her legs, then pushing in deep, the full length enveloped in her warmth.
Pre-cum leaked, easing the glide, making wet sounds fill the room with each thrust. Her pussy clenched visibly, desperate for penetration, juices dripping down to coat my cock and her skin.
I could feel her trembling; the effort to stay silent etched lines of strain on her face.
I leaned over her, chest to her back, one hand tangling in her hair to pull her head back gently. “Feel that? How close I am to your cunt, but not giving it what it wants? This is what you did to me: teasing, denying.”
I sped up fractionally, the slap of my hips against her ass punctuating my words, but still controlled, drawing it out. Her breaths came in quick gasps, thighs quivering from the strain of squeezing, but she didn't break, didn't beg aloud.
To amp the torment, I slipped a hand between her legs from behind, fingers parting her just enough to circle her entrance without entering. She bucked, trying to impale herself, but I held her hips firm, denying her.
“No,” I warned, slowing my thrusts to a crawl.
“You take this punishment. Squeeze tighter.” She did, her muscles flexing, creating a vice that pulled a groan from me.
The sensation was intense — her thighs gripping like a custom-made sheath, soft yet firm, every vein on my cock dragging against her skin.
Minutes stretched, my control wavering as I fucked her thighs relentlessly.
Sweat beaded on her back, trickling down, and I licked a stripe up her spine, tasting salt.
Her breasts swayed with each movement, nipples brushing the desk.
I reached under, cupping one, kneading roughly while my other hand teased her clit — light flicks, never committing to the rhythm she craved.
She was close; I could tell by the way her thighs spasmed, her pussy fluttering against my fingers. “Don't you dare come,” I commanded, voice a harsh whisper. “Not until I fill these thighs with my cum.”
But she was teetering, body betraying her, so I pulled out abruptly, leaving her gasping. The cool air hit my cock, throbbing from the denial, but I wasn't done. I turned her around roughly, lifting her onto the desk so she sat on the edge, legs dangling.
“Wrap them around me,” I said, stepping between her knees.
She hooked her ankles behind my back, but I adjusted, pressing her thighs together again around my shaft.
This position let me see her face — eyes glazed, lips bitten raw, the cum from earlier still streaked on her chin.
I thrust back in, hands on her knees to keep the pressure, fucking the slick valley with renewed vigor.
Her bound wrists rested on her lap, useless, heightening her submission.
From here, I could kiss her — crushing my mouth to hers, tongue invading, swallowing any sounds she might make.
She kissed back hungrily, moaning into me, but I broke away, trailing bites down her neck.
My hips snapped forward, the head of my cock nudging her clit with precision now, each thrust sending jolts through her.
She writhed, thighs clamping desperately, milking me toward release.
The build was inevitable, heat coiling low.
“Gonna come between your legs,” I grunted, pace faltering.
“Mark you everywhere.” She nodded frantically, eyes pleading, and that pushed me over.
I thrust deep one last time, groaning as I spilled, hot spurts coating her inner thighs, her pussy lips, dripping down to the desk.
The sensation prolonged it, my cock pulsing against her skin, painting her thoroughly.
She shuddered, on the brink from the indirect stimulation, but I didn't let her tip over. Instead, I smeared the cum with my fingers, rubbing it into her thighs, then up to her clit in slow circles. “Please,” she whispered finally, voice breaking the silence rule.
I smirked, plunging two fingers inside her without warning, curling them against her walls while my thumb worked her clit. “You can come now, sweetheart.” I allowed, and she did — violently, body convulsing, soaking my hand as she clamped down.
We stayed like that, her slumped against me, thighs sticky and trembling.
But as her breathing evened, I knew the conference break was short — more discipline awaited after the panels tomorrow.
For now, I untied her wrists, pulling her into my lap on the chair nearby, letting her rest against my chest. The night was young, and her lessons were far from over.