Chapter 2 #2
“How can I do that?” I asked with feigned naivety, but I knew what he wanted. I saw it through his pants. He was so damn hard, tenting his slacks.
Mr. Lawrence unbuckled his belt, and the clang of metal made me shiver.
I kept my eyes locked on his large hands as he unbuttoned his slacks, focusing on the veins.
The sound of his falling zipper broke the sticky silence of the office, and I worried the room would combust from all the erotic tension.
His pants splayed open, exposing his cock.
His length was impressive, even more so than I fantasized about, and I bit my lip as I watched him grab himself and stroke.
I wanted to be the hand caressing the soft skin of his dick.
“On your knees,” he commanded in the exact tone of a man with that much authority over me.
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I dropped to my knees, the carpet rubbing my bare skin.
He grabbed my hand and placed it on him.
I stroked him, moving along his swollen and excited head.
He fisted my hair again and pushed his cock into my mouth.
The scent of his masculine cologne overpowered me, and I breathed it in and absorbed it into my memory.
His head dropped back as if I had been the touch he’d been waiting for, like my mouth was what he needed. He grabbed the back of my head and forced himself deeper into my mouth, fucking my face, smearing my red lipstick on my porcelain skin, staining my cheek.
He pulled his dick out of my mouth and rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. “Do you think that’s enough for the hours of work I’ll have to do tonight? Just that perfect mouth of yours?”
I shook my head as I got to my feet and wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. It wasn’t enough.
He raked his arm across his desk, sending his cupholder flying and pens and pencils skittering across the carpet.
The hurried and sloppy way he needed me didn’t keep him from finding my mouth as he laid me down.
I pulled his keyboard from beneath my lower back and shoved it aside.
My hip knocked over the framed photo of his family.
His hands raced up my thighs as he bunched my skirt at my hips and rubbed his fingers against my soaked panties.
The touch made me tremble. I wanted this as much as he did.
He pulled my panties aside, exposing my pussy, and I felt insecurity rise into my clenching stomach as someone as perfect as him looked down at something he’d wanted for so long.
What if I wasn’t what he expected? I didn’t want him to regret taking such a risk on me.
What if I was everything he expected? What would that mean for us?
I’d be tempted to forget more work so I could get this punishment.
He groaned as he rubbed his fingers over my swollen, excited clit.
His touch made me shudder, too sensitive for his rough hands.
Mr. Lawrence shoved two fingers inside me, then three.
I gasped, having always admired those large, strong hands, and now I felt every curve of them as they thrust inside me.
Plunging his fingers deeper, he leaned over and kissed me again.
My thighs trembled as he stood and palmed his dripping cock.
He rubbed it against me, warm and wet with arousal, and my excitement coated him as he surged into me with ease.
His fingers sank into my hips as he gripped them and fucked me.
His desk shook, causing more things to fall to the floor.
I worried his monitor would slip from the edge as it tilted closer, but his harder thrusts told me it didn’t matter if it did.
“Unbutton your shirt,” he commanded.
I did as I was told, unfastening every button until my shirt splayed open and exposed my breasts beneath a black bra.
His fingers grazed my cleavage before he grabbed the straps and pulled them down, pushing the fabric away and freeing my chest. He dropped his lips to my nipples, swirling his tongue around them and sucking until I moaned.
“I want to see you bent over my desk,” he said.
Mr. Lawrence grabbed my hips and pulled me off the desk.
He turned me around and leaned me over the wood.
His hands raced to lift my skirt again, bunching it at my waist. He groped my ass with a rough grasp that pulled a whimper from my throat.
It was exactly how I fantasized. Instead of stopping to ask if I was okay with it, he pushed me against the desk until my breasts pressed against the wood.
He leaned over me, his breath warming my ear. “I can’t believe how much work you’ve left me,” he said with a snarl as he smacked my ass, etching a deep sting within my skin. He drew his hand back and struck me again.
I bit my lip against the pain, trying to keep from screaming out.
My skin still flamed with warmth, even as his hand left me with an imprint that remained long after he wound up for another slap.
He struck me harder, gripping my ass at the end of the swing.
I whimpered, unable to ignore the discomfort as his repeated hits bit at me.
He wasn’t holding back. Not even a little.
I deserved that pain because I was a real shitty employee.
“Zoey,” he groaned. “You disappointed me. Caused me so much more work. Work that I shouldn’t need to do because I have people like you to do it for me.
” He drew his hand back and smacked me once more, pressing me harder against the desk.
“You were a bad employee, Zoey, but you’re being such a good girl,” he growled as he used his knee to spread my legs.
The way he said my name and called me a good girl made me tremble in anticipation. As he pushed inside me again, I gasped and grabbed the edge of the desk to steady myself. He fucked me so hard I forgot he was fifty-five. I forgot he was my boss. I forgot my own goddamn name.
“You feel exactly how I imagined you’d feel,” he said.
“How do I feel?” I asked with heavy breaths. I wanted to hear him tell me.
“Tight. Perfect. Like you need to be filled.”
“Don’t come in me,” I whispered, my body tensing at the mention of it.
He lifted me by my hair and kissed the nape of my neck. “I will come wherever I want,” he growled into my ear.
I couldn’t say no to him.
He was my boss.
He pushed me down and grabbed my skirt, using it as a strap as he pounded me harder. With a gravelly moan, his hips slowed their assault on my ass as he came inside me. I felt him pulse deep within me as he filled me.
“Zoey,” he said. Pleasure laced my name. He lifted me by my hair. “I was forgiving this time, but don’t fuck me over again, sweet girl, or next time, I’ll take your ass too.”
I came. Hard. My thighs trembled as I pulled my fingers from my panties. Footfalls came from down the hall, and I tried to quiet my heavy breaths. I slammed the book closed and pulled the blanket over me, wiping my come onto my pants.
“Morning,” Michael said as he sat beside me with a cup of coffee. He grabbed my leg beneath the blanket and rubbed it.
I had guilt in my gut from my orgasm. I had imagined being fucked by someone else while my husband was in the next room. I loved Michael, but he would never fuck me with a burning desire like that.
No, a need. I wanted him to need me.
Michael cooked us breakfast as usual on weekend mornings, and we sat together and ate in silence.
There was no need for forced conversation or charades.
We were comfortable. I stared at him as he pushed eggs around his plate with his fork.
With his glasses perched on his slender nose, he glanced up at me with the ice-blue eyes I fell in love with.
“Why are you staring at me? Creep,” he asked with a chuckle. He wiped his face with a paper towel and used his other hand to smooth down the hairs of his well-groomed beard.
There was so much to love about him. About us.
Yet there I was, longing to push those plates off the kitchen table and have him take me right there, right then.
He was oblivious to the fire in my eyes as the longing for his cock engulfed me.
I stood, pushed what was left on my plate into the trash, and placed it in the sink.
I kissed him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m going to go shower, if you want to join.”
“To be boiled alive? No thanks,” he said with a laugh. Yet another thing we didn’t have in common. He liked tepid showers. I liked to leave the shower with reddened skin. The heat of the burning-hot water soothed me.
I hadn’t purchased the multi-feature showerhead for nothing. I’d come with the heat surrounding and embracing me. I’d envision Michael fucking me for being the incompetent wife I felt I was.