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"Fuck, Hazel. You're so sexy. Where have you been all this time?"
Right under your nose. The words come to me, but I can't voice them.
He continues to knead my ass with one hand and slips the other under my blouse, hiking it up to reveal my bra. Without taking it off, he dips inside my left breast. Another moan leaves my mouth the moment he touches it, catching my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
I hiss, trying hard to keep it together. He slides his other hand from my ass to my front, and without even peeling off my G-string, he dips three digits inside my pussy. I moan loudly, taken aback.
He shushes me. "Shhh… Let me give you what you need."
Heat liquifies my bones, and I buckle against him, so eager to tease him the way he's teasing me. But he doesn't get distracted, even though I feel his cock through his pants, rubbing against me. He doesn't let up and drives his digits in and out of me relentlessly, each time hitting a deeper part of me.
"Oh. Fuck. Oh."
"That's right, dirty girl. You're so wet and ready for me. I can smell your delicious scent from a mile away."
I chew my lower lip, fully aware that I need to focus if I don't want my moans to travel through the walls and several floors of this building. The fire in my blood threatens to burn me up, and keeping it inside is challenging.
He slams his fingers inside me, and my body contracts for a moment. It pulses like never before, my sex throbbing, shocks of pleasure surging through me. I come hard, limbs shaky, vision dotted. I lean on the desk for support, quivering, and grasp the edges.
I'm still reeling from the orgasm when I hear him unzipping his pants. The sound of his expensive belt thumping on the rug re-energizes me. He puts his hand on my back, pressing my upper body onto the desk, head to the side.
“Mr. Cromwell.” My heart leaps to my throat, and I part my thighs, anticipating his arrival.
“Mr. Cromwell is about to fill you up with his cum. You wanted to play with me. That’s what you get.”
The moment the thick head of his cock touches my entrance, a shiver of awareness runs through me, and I quiver. He eases inside me, and the air around us shifts, charged with tension, with unspoken words. I suck in my breath, eager to take every inch of his cock, but taken aback by his solid thickness, the way he fills my most intimate spot like he belongs between my legs.
"Almost," he says, when I already think he's entered and expanded me completely.
“So good.” I fidget, moving my hips, unsure if I can take much longer of this agony, a sweet ache pulsing in my inner walls. My pussy is at war with his cock—on one side, I want every inch of him, but on another, I know it'll take some adjustment to take him, even with me soaking wet and still dripping cream.
I feel sinfully dirty, deliciously transgressive.
A few seconds later, he's inside me entirely, and I take a heartbeat or two to adjust. The veins of his dick pulsate inside me, and my clit thrums in anticipation. When I release my breath, I feel dizzy and heavy. So many emotions flash through my head like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Archer drapes over me and plants a kiss on my neck, and a tremor races through my body. He takes advantage and moves inside me, earning a couple of moans as I battle the tenuous line between pain and pleasure.
His groan fills the space, the sound telling me that he's also clinging to the last thread of his self-control.
This is crazy.
He continues to thrust into and out of me, standing upright and placing his hand firmly on the small of my back to keep me in place.
"Yes," he whispers. "Move that ass now."
I follow his command and rock my hips into his, each time deepening our connection, his cock hitting a part of me that has never been touched before.
Pleasure builds inside me again, this time stronger than before. My body barely contracts. There's no time. An intense force sweeps over me, a rocket flying from one extremity to the other, arrowing down, then up, then down again in a relentless loop of pleasure.
Soon after, I feel his jerky movements behind me, and he comes, filling me with his load, so much that some of it drips down my thighs.
When he's done, I’m glued to his desk. Sweat glistens over my body. My arms and legs are shaky and weak, and my breath condenses on the smooth surface. I can't move. I can't walk. I can't do anything.
What do I do now?
He kisses the top of my head, and the act sends a warm flutter to my chest. "Are you okay?" he asks, a dash of concern in his voice. He's not asking me to leave, I hope. I don't want to believe that. I want to believe…
I shake my head.
