Chapter 21 Dirty Inquisition
DIRTY INQUISITION
Michelle
The moment shifted in a nanosecond. I’d held the power when I’d sauntered into his office, costume on, plan in hand. Now he had the reins and I was quivering with want from the way he devoured my lips, as he spread my legs easily with a strong nudge of his thighs.
His tongue swirled against mine, lips crushing my mouth, my head gripped tight in his strong hands.
I held on to the edge of his desk. If I didn’t, I might topple backwards.
When he broke the kiss, I was dazed. But maybe that was the point.
Jack might be content with a little role-playing, but his favorite role was dominating me.
“Stay like that,” he said. Turning around, he reached for a shelf behind his desk, and grabbed a black box with the letter J embossed in silver on the front. I shivered; just the look of the box was arousing.
“Open your shirt,” he said, his voice husky, laden with power.
I steadied myself, and began unbuttoning my blouse down to my waist, his eyes staying on me the whole time as I spread open the fabric. I wore a black lace push-up bra.
He drew a sharp breath, and ran his tongue over his teeth as he opened the box. “Don’t take the bra off. Just push it down, and free your tits,” he told me.
I complied, my breasts tumbling free, resting on the underwire, framed by the lace. Heat spread fast through my body, whipping through my veins as he opened the box and dipped his fingers inside. He lifted out something that looked like earrings. Each had a gold chain and red hearts on the end.
“What’s that?” I asked because I knew they weren’t earrings.
Pressing one hand on the desk, he cupped a breast with his other hand, palming me. A moan escaped my lips as he rolled my nipple between his fingers. “Nipple clamps. May I?”
It was the may I that led to my permission. The manners in the midst of this intense moment. “Yes.”
He carefully clamped one on. I gasped, biting back a small ouch.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes, and no,” I said, shooting him the tiniest smile.
“Sounds like it’s working then,” he said, and moved to my other breast, clamping it down and giving a quick tug.
The sensation was like a bite. The sharp, sweet sting of pain mingled with pleasure.
“I’m not done with you, Michelle,” he whispered hotly in my ear, his voice like a hard warning.
“You don’t come to my office and blow me and not get fucked. ”
“I would hope to get fucked,” I countered, letting him know I might play these games, but I wasn’t a woman who’d ever roll over.
I’d spar verbally even as he flicked the red heart on my breasts, sending an agonizingly delicious zing from there straight to my core.
Perhaps I might meet that elusive nipple orgasm today.
I doubted it existed, but with the way heat pooled between my legs, I might start believing.
“I need you to understand me, beautiful,” he said, gripping my thigh. “This is my company. My office. My desk. I make the rules, and you tried to subvert them. Now I’ll show you how I run things here when a woman like you tears me away from work.”
“Show me,” I said, daring him. Taunting him.
He took another box off his shelf, then opened it, revealing a purple vibrator. “The Wild One. It’s new. You’ll be my personal focus group of one. The walls in my office are very thick, so be as loud as you need to.”
I eyed it suspiciously. “You’re not going to use that on me, are you? Has anyone touched it?”
He laughed, breaking his dominant character for a moment.
“It’s new. Never been used. I’ll clean it too,” he said, and stepped into the bathroom attached to his office.
I heard the water running, then the faucets being turned off.
I leaned forward, peering into the bathroom to see him wiping down the toy.
I smiled to myself. He was a good man to make sure it was clean.
He returned, and stood between my legs again, pushing them open wider.
“Put your feet up on my desk. Show me how far you can spread your legs.”
I lifted my heeled feet onto the edge of his desk. Not once did I think about how I looked. I knew I looked hot to him. I knew he wanted me badly as I sat perched on his desk, wide open, nipple clamps dangling, underwear soaked from my desire.
He stared between my legs at my wet panties. “We have a problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t want you to move from this position. But I need to get those the fuck off,” he said, and stretched across me, grasping a pair of scissors in a pencil holder.
My eyes widened in fear.
“Don’t move. I won’t hurt you.”
He pulled the side of my black lace panties, tugging them away from my leg. “Tomorrow I’m taking you lingerie shopping. That’s a promise,” he said, and then sliced the panties neatly, and tugged the ripped fabric to the side, exposing my wet pussy to him. I followed his gaze downward.
I was glistening for him.
He shut his eyes briefly and rubbed the outline of his cock in his pants.
I ached. Watching him touch himself after he came moments ago thrilled me.
This might just be sex, we might only be playmates, but hell, I had him.
He was aroused to no end by me, and that knowledge turned me into an inferno.
My skin sizzled and I dipped a hand between my legs.
He opened his eyes, and they blazed darkly at me.
“Are you going to fuck me now?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, and handed me the toy.
“Fuck yourself. I want to watch you masturbate on my desk. I want to see the sexiest woman I’ve ever known make herself come on the desk where I approved this product,” he said, hitting the on switch, rubbing the head once through my wet lips, and then handing it to me.
“Jack,” I moaned.
“Are you embarrassed to show me how you fuck yourself?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, my voice strong. “I would never be embarrassed. I love to play with myself.”
He breathed out hard, and I saw the outline of his dick grow.
“God, that’s so fucking hot. I want to see you fuck yourself.
Show me how you love your own body with something I made,” he commanded, and I rubbed the purple head against my damp, throbbing center.
My breath fled my chest. The intensity of the vibration spread quickly, rippling through my body from the rabbit.
“No, I want it in you. Put it all the way in. Rub your clit. Fuck your pussy. Show me how it works on the woman I want,” he said, pressing his palms on the desk, his body next to mine as I rubbed the rabbit’s ears against my clit, then in one slick motion, slid the shaft inside me.
My inner walls clenched against the device, and my eyes floated closed as I began to work it inside me.
I heard him panting, and groaning, and then out of nowhere came a sharp sting as he tugged on the nipple clamps, both at the same time.
The pain shot through me, careening through my bloodstream, but instead of hurting, it hurt so good.
It was like wildfire, raging and out of control as it ran rampant in my body.
In and out, I thrust The Wild One, the shaft filling me, the head of it touching deep inside my pussy, the rabbit’s ears vibrating me into the fevered frenzy I often sought.
“Do you love fucking yourself?” he asked, flicking the red hearts on my nipples.
“Yes,” I panted.
“Do you watch videos when you do it?”
“Usually.”
“What do you watch? Do you watch beautiful women in stockings and heels fucking themselves with their fingers?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
“What else?” he asked, demanding answers. Answers I was too happy to give.
“I watch it all,” I said in a breathless rush.
“Do you watch women licking each other’s pussies?”
I nodded on a harsh breath.
“And women sucking off men?”
“Yes,” I cried out.
“Do you watch men fucking men?”
“Sometimes.”
“And men fucking women, and coming all over their beautiful fucking bellies and tits?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“And what about this?” he asked, spreading my ass and flicking his finger against my rear. A tease. A hint. “Do you like to watch ass play? Fingers, toys, cocks?”
“Oh god, yes.”
He groaned loudly, and no more words came from him. No more questions. Just primal sounds of pleasure.
I was vaguely aware of the moans and groans, and it took a few seconds for me to connect all those sounds to myself. I was making them. I was spread on his desk, heels hooked on the edge, legs wide open and vulnerable, head thrown back, hair spilling out, fucking myself with his toy as I cried out.
I concentrated fiercely on the orgasm I felt cresting. I swore I could see it rising up on the edge of a far cliff, like a swirl of pleasure, a drug-induced opium haze. Jack’s voice cut through my cries.
“Stop.” His voice was firm. One word. That was all. A command.
“I don’t want to,” I protested.
“Do it anyway,” he said, and I somehow found the strength to slow the pace, my chest convulsing, pussy twitching with the desperate need to come.
He wasn’t a sadist. He surely didn’t believe in torture.
He was a man of pleasure. A man constructed and outfitted, whether it was his passion or his business, to deliver endless joy to a woman.
Because when I looked up through hazy, lust-filled eyes, I was greeted with the most beautiful sight.
He’d unzipped his pants, pushed down his briefs, and was rolling a condom onto his long, thick, beautifully erect cock.
I removed the toy, dropped it on his desk, and two seconds later, he yanked me by the hips, positioned himself at my entrance, and shoved into me. His breath hissed out as he filled me to the hilt. I wrapped my arms around his chest, and murmured his name. “Jack.”
“Michelle,” he said, sliding out, then back in. “You feel so fucking good.” His eyes were glassy with desire. “I love how you made your pussy so fucking perfectly ready for me.”
“I’m so ready for you,” I said, reaching up to his face, cupping his cheeks, his stubble rough against my hands.
“Are you ready to come?” he asked, never looking away as he thrust into me, sending a flurry of white-hot sparks through my body.
“So ready. Please make me come.”
He pumped into me, fast and then faster, and every part of me felt him.
My breasts were full and on high alert, swelling with sensations, legs wide open for him.
My pussy was drawing him in as deep as he could possibly be, and all the while I held his face in my hands, and watched him.
Watched his eyes, those cool blue eyes that didn’t seem to want to look away either.
He didn’t want to break the gaze. He stayed with me, fucking me forcefully and relentlessly on his desk as I reached the edge.
“That’s right. Come on my desk,” he instructed.
“Come so fucking hard that I’ll never think of anything but you when I’m trying to work. ”
I didn’t know if one orgasm would ruin his work ethic for life.
I didn’t care. All I knew was that my body was shattering, sensations rolling through me in some sort of sinful chaos of bliss and beauty.
Crashing, rising, falling, exploding. And all that noise.
All that shouting. His name. My name. Swearing.
A cacophony of sounds of sex, flesh on flesh, slaps and moans and groans as I came undone for him.
And the deepness. Oh, the terribly wonderful deepness as he pushed farther into me, still driving, still thrusting, hard and then even harder until he collapsed onto me, his weight on my body, his loud grunts landing on my ears like a manifesto of his pleasure.
I panted. He groaned. We didn’t move. We lay there, spent, exhausted, our breaths harsh in the silent office, sated beyond words in a heap on his desk, turning work and the business of pleasure obsolete that Friday evening.
When at last he separated from me, he brushed his fingertips along my face. “So beautiful,” he murmured, then bent his head to my neck, layering kisses all the way to my ear. I shivered from his tender touch. “I love being with you.”
I tensed at the words, but then relaxed into his embrace. Try as I might to hold back, to resist, I loved being with him too. He asked for my body, but the more he took of it, the more it was a package deal.
Which meant I was speeding straight into heartbreak. Only I didn’t have the will to press the brakes.
I should find it. I really ought to find it. But it was nowhere nearby as he gently scooped me up from his desk, held me in his arms, and kissed my face.