10. Rebecca
Rebecca
Giving my boss a blowjob in a church isn’t really what I envisioned doing when my sister first told me that she was engaged.
Then again I don’t know what I envisioned.
Something involving being alone with nobody to dance with except for our awkward cousin Timothy, probably.
Looking chubby and out of place behind my sister as she says her “I do”s, with everyone looking at me with pity — the single, older sister with no date to the wedding, no diamond ring in sight.
It’s exactly the kind of thing that families like mine love to speculate about. My mother leading the pack.
When I invited Eric to the wedding, I knew I’d be throwing a grenade on everyone’s preconceived notions of me and I’ll admit, I enjoyed that thought.
Arriving to the wedding with Eric Stone, some fancy billionaire guy that most of them have only heard about from news segments and articles in magazines.
But Eric has made it clear that he’s not here out of pity for me, or even to do a favor.
He’s here because he wants to be here. Or at least, he wants to be wherever I happen to be at the time. With me.
He. Wants. Me.
Even knowing this though, even after the way he kissed me outside of the church before the ceremony…I still didn’t expect this.
But here I am on the floor, kneeling in front of him, his thick shaft sliding over my tongue as the man it belongs to tosses his head back and groans, the most uninhibited I’ve ever seen him.
It’s fun. Making him fall apart like this, making his walls fall down and his usual stiff and professional demeanor dissolve as he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing, how he’s supposed to be doing it, allowing us to cross so many professional lines that I doubt I’ll be able to look at him in the same way ever again.
I haven’t thought about what happens when I go back to work Monday morning.
Haven’t considered the consequences of what we’re doing right now, though I know that I should.
I can’t bring myself to care though, especially when Eric pushes me away and stands, yanking me towards the pew and bending me over the back of it.
Before I know what’s happening, the skirt of my pink dress is flipped up over my back and he’s yanking my underwear down, gliding his cock against my opening and pushing in.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, stroking my backside softly as he pushes all the way in. He stays there for a moment, hesitating.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he says. “Just savoring this. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve wanted to do this to you, right there in the office.”
“No way,” I reply.
“Yes,” he says. “Usually when you’re talking back to me. You know, you’re the only one at the office who gets away with that. Didn’t you ever wonder why?”
“I assumed it’s because of my superb work ethic,” I reply, grinding back against him. “And the fact that you wouldn’t last a day on the job without my help.”
“That is why you get paid so well,” he replies. “Better than any of my other assistants before or after. But the reason you get by with so much sarcasm at work is for another reason entirely.”
“What’s the reason?” I ask.
I pull away from him a little, letting his cock slide out of me.
He grips my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my flesh just enough for it to hurt a little, and slams me back against him, his cock filling me again and hitting that spot inside of me that makes me want to scream.
“The reason,” he mutters, pulling out and then slamming back into me with even greater force than before. “Is because every time you talk back to me at work, my brain immediately goes to this. Wanting to bend you over my desk and. Fuck. Your. Tight. Pussy.”
He punctuates every word with a brutal thrust until my arms feel weak, hardly able to brace me against the back of the pew beneath his weight and force.
Maybe he senses this because he pulls out and flips us now so that I’m on top.
He pulls the straps of my dress down so that my breasts spill out and begins thrusting into me from below, faster than I can even keep up.
“Love this position,” he says, easing my mind with any insecurities or doubts I might have felt from being so exposed, my weight resting on top of his thighs. He bounces me on top of his lap like it’s nothing to him. “I want you to show me how you touch yourself.”
My eyes widen. Even with Eric boosting my confidence, I’m not sure I can do that in front of him.
“Do it now,” he orders me, his voice having that familiar hard edge that he occasionally takes with me in the office. “Show me.”
When I don’t obey, he stops thrusting into me and leans in, gripping my hair in his hand and kissing me hard on the mouth.
“I need to know how you do it when you’re alone,” he breathes against my lips. “Show me what you like, baby. Show me what feels good to you. And then I’ll show you how to make it feel ten times better.”
I hesitate for just a second more. His grip on my hair tightens, the slight pinch of pain bringing me out of my mind and back into my body.
I feel his cock inside of me, buried and stretching me tight.
I feel his lips against my throat as he kisses my neck, my shoulders, dragging his parted lips and tongue across my skin like I’m something he’s going to eat.
Every nerve ending on my body is awake now and with Eric’s orders, what I need to do feels simple. There’s no room in my mind right now for insecurity or doubt, not anymore. I know what to do; Eric is in control, and for once, I don’t mind being bossed around by him.
Impatient, he guides my hand down to the apex of my thighs and simulates stroking myself. I fall in line now, showing him what he’s demanding to see, the way that I touch myself when I’m alone. Only it’s so much more intense with his length inside of me, multiplying the pleasure.
He really does watch me, his eyes on my fingertips in the dim light of the darkened room, and after a moment, he pushes my fingers aside, replacing them with his own.
“Like this?” He asks, circling my clitoris with the pads of his first two fingers.
“Yes,” I breathe.
I feel so wanted beneath his watchful stare. The object of his obsession, feeling what it must be like to be a research paper crossing his desk, something to be studied in his lab.
I never believed this would be romantic, much less arousing…but Eric’s attention is all-consuming, his focus uninterrupted, even when a burst of laughter breaks out loud enough to be heard from the reception hall in the distance.
“You’re so wet for me,” he says, quickening the pace of his fingers as he circles his hips, grinding against me with the full length of his shaft still deeply buried inside of me.
On fire. My body feels like it’s on fire, in the best way possible. I hardly hear what he says next, murmuring forbidden promises as I lean forward and press my forehead against his. But then I hear three words, another order given clearly and forcefully.
“Come for me,” he growls, grinding into me harder.
And then I do. He clamps a hand over my mouth to muffle my moans as I buck against him, riding his cock as my shaking orgasm sends wave after wave of pleasure through my body, radiating from my core to every limb until I can’t keep going.
When I collapse back against him, he removes his hand from my mouth and begins to bounce me on his lap again. I feel his cock swell in length and his fingers dig into my hips, his icy gaze so powerful and so demanding as he releases into me.
We stay like that for a moment or two, and with the physical pleasure behind us, I feel the familiar insecurities creeping back into my mind. Eric pulls back from me and grips my chin in his hand, staring me down. Then he kisses me, slow and long, and all thoughts wipe from my mind again.