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I dug my fingers into his scalp, my soft cries filling the silence of his office. He released my nipple with a quiet pop and pulled me close, his mouth slamming onto mine. I opened to his demanding tongue, loving how he took control of the kiss as he cupped the back of my neck and held me in his strong grip.
He hiked up my skirt to the top of my thigh highs, and I spread my legs eagerly without needing to be told.
“Good girl,” he breathed against my mouth, and I was surprised I didn’t spontaneously orgasm right then and there. He cupped my pussy, his fingers parting the coarse hair to find my aching clit.
I tensed against him. Giving up on dating for the last two years meant I’d also given up on waxing and just kept my pubic hair neatly trimmed instead. I’d known perfectly well that, at some point, I’d be showing the goods to Mr. Steele, but it somehow hadn’t clicked with me that maybe I should book a damn waxing appointment.
I realized Mr. Steele had stilled against me, his hand lightly cupping me but not moving. I stared at him as he said, “Do you want me to stop, Charlotte?”
“No,” I said.
He studied me, and despite what I’d said, I instinctively knew he was about to stop.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I said quickly. “I’m just embarrassed because I, um, haven’t waxed. I will for next time, though.”
He relaxed, and I gasped when his fingers parted my folds, and he rubbed my swollen clit. He kept a tight grip on the back of my neck, holding me immobile as he explored my entire pussy, from my aching clit to my throbbing entrance. He pressed one finger into me, watching my face carefully, before adding a second finger.
“I love how wet you are for me, good girl,” he said.
My pussy clenched around him, and his hips rocked against me. It was only the barest of movements, but even that slight sign of his desire sent mine skyrocketing. I gripped his arms, digging my fingers into his biceps as he made two slow thrusts of his fingers.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh God, I… oh…”
“You’re so fucking tight.” For the first time since I’d met him, he’d lost some of that hard control in his voice. A secret part of me was thrilled I’d done that to him.
He angled his thumb to brush against my clit, kissing me again and muffling the sound of my sharp cry of pleasure. He rubbed harder, his hand tightening on my neck when I tried to crowd closer.
“No,” he said. “Stay right there so I can see you.”
I acquiesced to his demands, rolling my hips against his ceaselessly rubbing thumb as he stared at my naked breasts with hot need. Determined to please him, I cupped my breasts, running my thumbs over my nipples.
He groaned loudly, his hips rocking harder against me. “Oh, you’re being such a good girl. Keep playing with your pretty nipples for me.”
I pulled on them lightly, gasping at the sensation. Mr. Steele pulled his fingers out of me and used two fingers to rub hard at my clit. It felt incredible, and I was quickly working my way toward an epic orgasm. Tension and need coiled tighter in my belly, and I cried out when Mr. Steele bent his head and sucked on my nipple again. His hand was a strong but comforting grip on the back of my neck, and the feel of his erection against my hip made me ache to have it inside of me.
He lifted his head and gave me a fierce look. “Listen carefully to me, Charlotte.”
When I didn’t respond, he squeezed my neck gently and gave my clit a pinch that threatened to push me over the edge. I moaned loudly, and he rubbed the side of my neck with his thumb as his fingers stilled against my clit. “Charlotte, look at me.”
“Make me come,” I whined before glaring at him. “I want to come.”
A soft smile crossed his face. “I know you do, baby. But,” he gave my lower lip a light nip, “you don’t come unless I say you can. Do you understand?”
I tried not to pout but obviously failed dismally because Mr. Steele gave me a stern look. “No pouting, Charlotte.”
He rubbed my clit with light circles, not enough to make me come but enough to make me squirm. I squeezed his arms as Mr. Steele said, “Do you understand the rules?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good.” He rubbed my clit again, those terrible, magical fingers pushing me higher and higher toward the bliss I craved. I rocked frantically against him, moaning my disappointment when he slowed his touch.
“Please,” I said, “Please, I need to come.”
“Shh, baby,” he said. “I know you do.”
I shrieked, my fingers clawing at his arms when he gave my clit another pinch, and I teetered on the edge of the abyss. His self-satisfied smile turned almost tender when I gave him a pleading look and panted out a series of soft whimpers and moans.
His thumb stroking my neck again, and his fingers stroking light torturous circles against my clit, he pressed a soft kiss against my mouth. “Say my name when you come, Charlotte. Do you hear me? Not fuck or God, but my name.”
