8. Lissa #2
“I’d like to make you feel good,” he says, his hand coming up to curl a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “How does that sound?”
I chew my lip, nodding my head, without any real clue what that means.
The backs of his fingers skim down my cheek and onto my neck.
Then, they move further down, brushing over the curve of my breast before his thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple, very, very gently.
A stirring of something rises inside me, but mostly I just feel nerves biting at the inside of my stomach.
“Alright?” he asks.
I nod, and then he walks away. On the far side of the room is a sculpture. It’s bronze like everything else in the space, but as I look at it, I realize that the shape of it is somewhat strange.
The sculpture is balanced on something protruding from the wall. It looks like wings in flight, the base of them forming a V against the wall.
He grasps the sculpture, lifting it off the wings and placing it on the floor. Then, he stands back up and does something I can’t see. There’s the sound of metal being moved and unlocked.
Turning, he holds out a hand to me. I go to him, curious enough that I’m not as self-conscious about my nudity anymore, and I frown at him as I see what he’s done.
The winged shape that was holding the sculpture has been moved outward from the wall, and it’s not so much wings now that I’m looking at it up close.
It’s more like two U’s side by side with a soft cushioning fabric on top of a wider platform at the base.
I stare at it, still confused as hell, and then Oliver’s hands go to my waist.
“I‘ll show you,” he says, and I suck in a breath as he lifts me effortlessly up and then deposits me on top of the thing.
My thighs fall neatly into the valley of each shape, my back connecting with the wall, leaving my legs splayed, my ass supported, and my body open to him in a way that makes me both terrified and incredibly intrigued.
“Hm, very nice,” he says in a deep low voice, stepping back to look at me. “If you need to, you can hang onto the handles beneath you.”
My fingers reach down automatically, wanting something to grip, and my palms close on the two cold metal handles.
He has this in his office in plain sight. For anyone to look at, never knowing what its true purpose is. Holy shit.
Then Oliver lowers to his knees and looks up at me, his eyebrow quirked. “I’m going to taste you, and I want you to try and relax. Do you think you can do that, Lissa?”
I make a little sound involuntarily and then give the tiniest nod.
He leans in between my legs, his tongue tracing a long line up my body with no warning and an intensity that makes me jolt violently back.
Instantly, his hands come up to grip my thighs as he sucks at my clit, and a surprise yelp falls from my lips. It’s been years, years since James did this, and never with as much skill.
I’m panting before I’m aware of it, the small of my back pushing down into the soft seat beneath as he licks at me, his tongue pushing inside my body as he groans low at the back of his throat.
That sound has me coming undone already. To hear this huge man vocalize his pleasure is intoxicating.
He pulls back, as I let out another tiny cry, looking down at him in shocked amazement. My confusion and surprise must be written all over my face because he gives a low little huff of laughter.
“Alright?” he asks. I nod, and he sits back on his heels. “Another rule. I need you to use your words.”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly.
“And I also need you to be as quiet as possible at the same time. Say what you need to, but no loud noises. This office is soundproof—I need it to be as quiet as possible when I’m focusing on work—but I don’t trust it one hundred percent, and I don’t need anyone to know what happens after hours in here. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“I’d like to try something else,” he says, reaching over to one of the lower shelves of the bookcase beside me and lifting one of the bronze ornaments off the surface. It’s small, egg-shaped, and I immediately realize what it is the second he has it in his hand.
“Would you let me put this inside you? I’d like to see you come apart for me.”
I shudder, looking at it with a ripple of unease. I haven’t had anything inside me for over a year. Will it hurt? It’s small, but still.
“Yes or no? It is quite all right if it is a no. I’m happy to continue on like this.”
I keep staring at it for what feels like an endless moment, and then I finally nod.
“Yes. I think so.” I manage, and the way his lips curve up in satisfaction makes me want to say yes to everything he proposes.
I want to make him look like that all the time.
He stands, holding the toy out to my mouth, a hand coming up to gently encircle my neck. It’s a soft touch, barely there, but it’s proprietary, solid. Grounding me.
“Get it wet for me, Lissa.”
He rubs the edge of it against my lips until I open them, pushing it inside my mouth. It’s cold, colder than I expected, and I look up at him, uncertain what he wants.
His dark eyes spear me with such want I can barely breathe, moving my tongue around it as he pushes it into my mouth, back and forth, soft then hard, his expression difficult to read, but the lust in his eyes is undeniable.
“Well done.” He pulls it out. “I’ll go slow.”
He lowers it toward my splayed thighs, but as soon as it touches my skin, I tense up.
“Do you need me to stop?” I shake my head. “Words, Lissa.”
“No,” I say. “I just…” I stop. I can’t say anything helpful like ‘it’s been years’ to him. It would make no sense that I haven’t had sex in?—
Oh fuck.
The tip of it pushes into me, slow and steady, widening and thickening as he keeps pushing, his hand still on my throat.
I groan, my hips rising as he keeps pushing. I want it harder, suddenly. There’s something at the back of my mind that needs him to shove it into me, make it hurt, make me feel something.
Then he does it. As if, in that second, he can read my thoughts, and suddenly the whole thing is inside me in one, harsh thrust. His hand moves from my throat, covering my mouth as I let out a low scream.
Holy shit, that feels good.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, but it seems as if he can read how much I love it on my face; he doesn’t need words now.
How can this man, who barely knows me, read me so well already?
He starts to thrust, and I lose my mind completely. I’m writhing on the makeshift seat, his hand always somewhere on my body, my throat, my mouth, caressing my breasts as he pleasures me.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. This visceral, crazy-good pleasure. He’s completely focused on making me come, and that’s all I want to do.
My legs are splayed wide, his hand moving at a steady rhythm, the wet sounds of my body driving me mad until I’m shuddering, my thighs shaking.
“Oh, God.”
I’ve never been loud during sex. Staying quiet was easier, in case I did something wrong. But today I could scream the whole damn building down.
“Are you going to come for me, Lissa?” he asks. “I’m here for you, as long as it takes.”
That’s it. My body clenches around the shape inside me as he shoves it impossibly deep, his fingers inside me too as my body clenches around it so hard I see stars.
It’s the best orgasm of my life. No others even come close.
I collapse against the wall, his hand releasing my throat, watching me for a minute, that same look of approval in his eyes.
“I’m going to take it out now. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
He pulls it free and places it to the side, balancing it on its end as it glistens in the dim light of the room.
I’m still breathless, panting, as his big hands lift me gracefully back to the floor. I struggle to balance, and he supports me for a moment as I lean against him. He smells good, like laundry detergent and spicy deodorant.
And then he lets me go and returns to sit behind his desk. The shift is jarring and unpleasant after the intimacy of what just happened.
I stare at him, feeling disappointed, and then quickly pull myself together.
Jesus, get your head in the game, Lissa. This is your fucking job.
I wonder if I should do something crass like thank him or tell him that it was a completely life-changing experience, but instead, I just walk to my pile of clothes and slowly get dressed.
I didn’t even offer to return the favor. What the hell was I thinking? Shit.
“Is there anything you need?” I ask lamely, once I’m ready to go. My stomach flips as I realize it’s five-thirty. Less than an hour spent in his company, and he didn’t even get off.
“No, thank you, Lissa. That was sufficient.”
Sufficient.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yes. Have a good evening.”
He doesn’t look up as I leave the room, and I walk out of the office in a post-orgasmic daze.