Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
ROSETTE
By the end of the second day, I’m bored out of my skull, but I managed to make the largest of the dilators fit. Even though it was a stretch, I made sure to use it plenty, rubbing my clit at the same time that I fucked myself with it—all while imagining it was Mr. Roth inside me, instead.
I might have orgasmed quite a few times.
The following day, I’m anxious and excited for what he has in store for me. I wait on the curb shifting from foot to foot, trying not to chew my cuticles. I never have nerves like this, not even the time I entertained an ambassador at Octavio’s.
Then the car pulls up with its tinted windows, so I won’t know until I open the door whether Mr. Roth is there or not. I take a steadying breath as I pull on the handle, and inside, he sits in his usual seat. I slide in, put my purse in the pocket, then close the door behind me.
As is typical, Mr. Roth says nothing. He doesn’t even look at me as I put on my seatbelt and George drives off. Taking out my phone, I look at his calendar for the day.
It’s a busy one. First, he has a meeting with a client at the office, and then a one-on-one with the CEO. After that, we’re visiting two sites, and one of them is a good long way out of town.
I’d almost expected to see a meeting with me on the schedule, but there isn’t one.
We head to the main building first, and Mr. Roth holds the front doors open for me as we go inside. On my way past, his hand brushes my ass—just a tiny breath of contact, but one that electrifies me.
We wait in the elevator silently until we reach the fifth floor, then step off. Mr. Roth waves a hand for me to walk in front of him, so I do, though I used to always trail behind him wherever we went.
Once we’re inside his office, I expect him to bend me over the desk, but instead he sits down in his chair and boots up his computer. I find my usual seat at my own desk in the back of the office, away from the windows.
Abruptly, Mr. Roth stands up again. He walks over to my desk, his leather dress shoes clicking on the floor, and stops in front of it.
Then, without warning, he bends forward and picks it up.
Carrying it like little more than a matchstick, he relocates the desk—leaving me still sitting in my chair—closer to his own, so they form an L shape.
Then he sets it down and gestures to me.
“Come, sit.”
I get out of my chair and wheel it over, utterly perplexed. I’ve always sat in the back, just the note-taker. But now he wants me closer?
Sitting once more, I tuck myself in. Mr. Roth nods, pleased, and returns to his seat. Only a few minutes of silence later, the client arrives.
I take thorough notes of the conversation, as I always do.
Things get a bit heated, but Mr. Roth keeps his cool as he tells the client he won’t be meeting their offer.
He wants a cheaper buy-in, which upsets the man immensely, but Mr. Roth simply sits with his arms crossed while the human rages about how much Mr. Roth is under-valuing their company.
With that order of business finished, we have thirty-five minutes until Mr. Roth’s appointment with the CEO. She’s intimidating, but he handles her with the same indifferent aplomb as he does anyone else.
Mr. Roth rises, probably to get water from the dispenser, but instead he walks past it.
He grabs a string hanging from the ceiling and pulls, which releases a curtain I didn’t even know was there.
It drops down, covering the glass wall. He repeats this on the adjoining wall, which covers the door, too.
Now we’re hidden from the rest of the office, with only the windows left that look out over the city.
“On my desk,” Mr. Roth says suddenly, startling me.
His yellow eyes are intense, burning. I do as I’m told, scrambling out of my chair and approaching his wide mahogany desk.
He follows me, reaching around me to shove his computer monitor and tin full of pens off to one side, then I hop up so I’m sitting on the edge.
Mr. Roth looms over me, a beast, a giant. His shoulders are so broad that I’m surprised he can fit through most doorways. No wonder his cock is the size of that dilator.
First, he slides up my skirt until I’m exposed to the base of my thighs.
“Pull down your tights,” he says, voice unchanged.
I nod, pulling the skirt up higher so I can reach the band. I pull them down, wriggling a bit on the desk to get them out from under my butt.
“Underwear, too.”
Swallowing, I do it, until my tights and my lacy red underwear are both at my knees.
Mr. Roth uses one big, meaty hand to push my thighs apart, and he wets his lips with his tongue the way he did at Octavio’s.
He tugs upward on his slacks and then, to my surprise, gets into a kneeling position.
He’s still huge like this, his broad body now between my spread knees.
I know what he’s going to do. Right here, in his office, he’s going to eat me out again.
Not a second later, he leans in and licks, uttering an almost silent groan as he does.
“This delicious fucking pussy,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. Then he buries his face in it, smothering me with his tongue, his lips. I know I need to keep quiet with the receptionist not thirty feet from Mr. Roth’s door, but it startles me so much I almost whimper.
Before I know it, two big fingers are pushing inside me. It’s much, much easier to take them this time, and my boss lets out a long, satisfied breath.
“You used them.” It’s not a question. “Good.”
I feel light as air when he says it. He goes to town sucking on my clit, making figure eights around it, whirling me up while his fingers steadily pump in and out. It’s only a few seconds of this before I’m spiraling, trying to find something on the desk to grab onto while he rocks my world.
Abruptly, he stops. When I peer down at Mr. Roth, his wide mouth is wet with me, and his severe tusks are pulled down in a frown. I realize now that it’s perhaps not what I thought it was—an expression of distaste—so much as how he looks when he’s at his most intense and focused.
“Ms. Kristoff.” He rises to his feet again, and his hand finds its way down to his belt, which he easily unbuckles. Next goes the button on his slacks, then the zipper. He tugs down his pants and underwear until his cock bursts out like an animal freed from its prison.
It is most certainly as big as the dilator, green and throbbing, with veins spidering up the thick sides.
“Yes?” I ask, my voice coming out much more mousy than I expected.
“I want you to bend over the desk.” He strokes himself once, from root to tip, and pre-cum drips down from the head. “Now.”
VINCENT
Finally. I didn’t have to think twice for my cock to get rock hard while I slurped up Ms. Kristoff’s incredible cunt. Now she’s over my desk, her pale, rounded ass in the air while she glistens and drips. The lips of her pussy are swollen and pink, as aroused as she is.
Ideal.
I approach her slowly, enjoying the sight of her body rising and falling with her labored breaths. I’m close enough now that I can lift my cock, pull back my foreskin, and rub the bare head over her clit. Ms. Kristoff lets out a gasp, and the interior petals of her pussy flex.
I can’t wait to find out how she feels there.
Keeping my breathing even and steady, I drag my head up and down, smearing my pre-cum all over her.
Once she’s wet with me, I notch myself right at the juncture of her thighs, below the tiny bud of her asshole.
I know she trained, and Ms. Kristoff is diligent if anything, but I still worry that it won’t work.
That I won’t fit inside her, and I’ll never get to know the truth.
Fucking human women is always a challenge. I haven’t attempted it in almost a decade, but here I am, because no one has ever called to me, beckoned me, the way Ms. Kristoff has.
I push in slightly, testing her opening to see how soft she is for me. The head of my cock squeezes through, and Ms. Kristoff lets out a muffled moan. It’s quiet, quiet enough that the receptionist won’t hear it.
Good. I hope she can keep it that way.
I pull back slightly and test it again, pushing in deeper, making sure she can take me. I’m widest about halfway down, and that will be the true test.
She’s tight, so goddamned tight that I’m already gritting my teeth, my balls shivering with anticipation. She’s juicy and soft inside, waiting to accept me, and I can’t help sliding into her even farther. Her hips buck, and she covers her mouth with one hand.
Even better.
I grip her ass and watch, mesmerized, as her pussy spreads for me, and she squeezes me with every one of her labored breaths. I pull back again, trying to temper myself, doing everything in my power not to simply bury myself inside her in one powerful thrust.
“Mr. Roth,” whimpers Ms. Kristoff. “Please, I want—”
She cuts herself off, and I pause, wondering what she was going to say.
“What do you want, Ms. Kristoff?” I ask, shallowly teasing her.
“I want you.” She’s whispering, but it’s forceful. “Fuck me, please.”
I narrow my eyes. I had planned how this was going to go, how I was going to work her up slowly over the next half hour, ratcheting her pleasure higher and higher until she burst open for me like a ripe fruit. But if she’s going to beg me like that…
On my next thrust, I push in deeper, all the way up to the halfway point. Ms. Kristoff buckles forward, her arm spreading out across the desk so she clacks my keyboard. She moans into her hand as I withdraw, then slam myself in again, even farther.
She’s fucking perfect, opening for me like a flower, her body giving to me so easily. The true orc in me rises to the surface, entranced by this delectable offering, ready to bury my seed in her and watch her get fat with my child.
I’m caught off-guard by that thought. She’s human, so I can’t impregnate her, but the fantasy returns again, fiercer. Put all my cum inside her. Get it in deep, so it goes where it’s supposed to go.
My spine tingles, the warning signs of my climax already making themselves known. Fuck. I was going to draw this out for far longer, but her asking me to take her roughly has sped up the timeline.
I’m going to fuck this woman until she wishes she could scream.