CtrlC, CtrlV. CtrlC, CtrlV. #8
He looks at me with such a gaze, as if I were the most wonderful woman on earth. As if nothing in the world exists for him apart from me now.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. I can see that he is trying to keep his lust in check.
“You have no idea how often I thought about you. How much I wanted you,” he confesses.
Oh, God. Keep talking!
I draw him to me, letting him fill me again.
Jan makes a sound of delight. He bites his lip, thrusts and retreats his hips.
This time he does it slowly, as if savoring the sight of me.
His burning gaze pierces into me, watching as his swollen cock slides in and out from between my lips.
At the same time, he looks so stunning that I’m writhing with arousal myself.
I slip my hand under my skirt and start fondling myself.
“Oh yeah. Show me that delightful pussy of yours. Present it to me.”
I push out my hips obediently, while continuing to pleasure him, and then he leans in, pulls up my skirt and slides his hand over my buttock.
“I adore your ass, baby.” He squeezes one cheek, then spanks me. He massages the skin, then follows his hand between the curves and starts stroking my pussy. “And you are wet for me again. You are mine.”
This is the second time I’ve heard this from him, and I don’t know why, but I like it insanely. The thought that I could really be his, and he could be mine is so unbelievable and yet so exciting that I feel a pleasant warmth in my heart.
Jan slides two fingers into my slit, and I lose myself completely in his touch. I massage my clit, letting him fill my mouth with his thick cock.
“Christ, Maria. How good.” Jan adds a third finger. He penetrates me deeply, spreads me from the inside, hits the most sensitive point, and a hot current flows through me. I speed up the movement of my head, Jan pushes harder with his penis against my throat. “Oh yes, just like that,” he pants.
I feel him shake with a shudder of delight. He tenses all over. He pulls his fingers out of me, straightens up, tilts his head back, and a low, animal growl comes out of his parted lips.
Hot, tart cum leaks onto my tongue and flows directly down my throat.
Jan shifts his misty gaze to me. He relaxes. I see fulfillment, satisfaction and, holy hell, even gratitude in his eyes. He is so beautiful, masculine and vulnerable at the same time.
I swallow it all, lick my lips and wink at him. Something I’ve never seen before appears on his face—the most captivating smile I could imagine.
Gosh, it was worth giving him such a gift just to experience this view.
“You are amazing.”
He lifts me from my knees, and before I can get my balance on my numb legs, he finds my mouth and pushes me with my back against the wall.
We kiss greedily, breathlessly. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve never had a series like this with anyone.
Usually after sex, my guy just went to sleep, or we went back about our business.
Meanwhile, with Jan, it’s completely different.
It’s as if with each kiss, I become more addicted to his hot breath, with each touch I crave his body more, with each satisfaction I strive to feel him again, and again.
Our tongues engulf each other without restraint, our hands wander over each other’s shoulders, breasts, belly.
Jan finds my clitoris with his fingers and the desire to be sated returns.
I push against his hand, signaling him to slide his fingers inside me. But he clearly craves something else.
“I want to lick your pussy,” he whispers into my mouth, and before I have a chance to say anything, he is already bending in front of me on one knee, pulling up my skirt, putting my leg over his shoulder and devouring my slit.
“Oh yes!” I lean with all my weight against the wall and slide my fingers in his hair. The sight of his handsome face next to my womanhood, his eyes focused directly at me, is enough to make me feel a strong contraction.
Jan engulfs me, licks me, sucks me, encloses my clitoris with his mouth, before sliding his tongue inside and clamping his hands on my trembling thighs.
I wriggle, moan, I’m on the verge of orgasm, his tongue penetrates even deeper.
“Yes. Right there.” I press his head against me. I relish this moment, this caress, how immeasurably Jan craves to bring me to my climax, how strongly he desires me.
A boiling current flows out from within and consumes my entire body. The muscles of my pussy tighten on Jan’s tongue.
I’m coming. It’s strong, overpowering, euphoric.
Jan licks gently my sensitive folds; he looks at me with satisfaction. He knows perfectly well that he has brought me to unearthly ecstasy. And he’s damn proud of it.
Yes, my dear boss. You have the right to be proud of yourself as well as satisfied—and very much so.
I am suffused with a feeling of bliss, languor and some inner warmth.
Exhausted, I slide down the wall to the floor. My ears are ringing, I’m spent. More than anything, I want to close my eyes and drift off to sleep in the arms of the man who brought me to a compelling orgasm today (and for the second time).
However, unexpectedly, a little monster from within is calling for its nicotine fix.
“I need a smoke,” I sigh.
Jan frowns and puts on his pants.
I suspect he’ll soon start preaching to me about how I take far too many cigarette breaks during the day.
He’ll probably launch into some moralizing rant about how smoking is unhealthy and causes cancer and heart disease.
I know all the bullshit slogans and images that tarnish every pack of ciggies.
That’s why I always choose the ones where an attractive gentleman is lying down covered with a sheet and looks like he’s sleeping soundly.
And honestly, I don’t give a damn what Jan says. After such sexual excesses, I need to take a good drag.
“Me too,” he replies unexpectedly, and I’m taken aback.
“Do you smoke?” I ask. I have never seen him light up a cigarette, or smelled it on him.
“I haven’t had a cigarette in my mouth in ten years. But now I want one like hell,” he announces and shakes my hand to help me get up from the floor.
*
We exit the elevator to the lobby on the ground floor.
It took us a while to get downstairs (I had to freshen up again, find my panties, put on my tights, boots and jacket), so the nicotine monster that inhabits my body is already tearing its yapping hole hungrily, stabbing me from the inside with its sharp claws.
As we approach the spacious hall, Mariah Carey’s cheerful voice rings out from the radio on the receptionist desk:
I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you…
My heart does a hop and skip and gets excited about the singing of my namesake.
The phenomenon of this song amazes me. I’ve heard it year after year, since I can remember, and I always feel some sort of inexplicable squeezing sensation in my stomach.
Maybe it’s because as a teenager during Christmas I used to lock myself in my room, put my headphones on, play this song and think about my dream boy who would sweep me away from my messed-up house and take me somewhere in the snowy mountains to a cozy cabin.
We’d drink mulled wine, sit by the fireplace, until he finally confessed to me that all he wanted this Christmas was me, and kissed me in a way that took my breath away.
And they lived happily ever after…
“Piotr, change the station.” I am pulled out of my musings by Jan’s growl. He has a look on his face like he’s just eaten something he doesn’t like.
The guard obeys the command and George Michael’s singing resounds:
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day you gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special
Another phenomenon. I should be done with this song by now (and I think some people are indeed sick of it, like puking their guts out), and yet, when I remember the music video, and the ski trip to the mountains with friends, the dressing of the Christmas tree together, the Christmas dinner at the table, and that look on George’s face of infatuation with a girl who doesn’t belong to him, my heart turns to strawberry jelly… I want that too!
“Turn off that howling,” snarls Jan through clenched jaws.
Jesus, what’s bitten him?
“That’s Wham, though!” I throw him an amused look, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He looks like a storm cloud.
I wonder if I’ll ever see such a smile on his face again as when I gave him the Christmas gift of a surprise blowjob.
I glance at the security guy and see that he is struggling to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, but he politely switches the station, and there Grace Jones is intoning Libertango .
Strange, I’ve seen that face before,
Seen him hanging, round my door.
Like a hawk stealing for the prey,
Like the night waiting for the day
Oh yes, this text will definitely suit Jan better. Especially that hawk hunting for prey.
“Are you only annoyed by Christmas music or do you just dislike the whole holiday and everything related to it?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. He pulls a key card from his pants pocket and touches the gate reader.
I pass first, and he is right behind me.
I can feel his breath on my back, smell his scent, his closeness. This is a complete novelty for me. Up there, we were in a bubble, in an unreal world, where we were ruled by sexual attraction, passion and desire. Here we are in the open, in reality, surrounded by other people…
It’s so strange, even surreal. He and I. Maria and Jan. I still can’t believe it. I don’t think this is really happening.
I reach for the chrome handle, but Jan anticipates me and opens the door in front of me. Well, what a gentleman he is.