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“I want to see your cunt, Ms. Gates. Show me.”
Deacon’s voice was still calm, still controlled.
I spread my legs wide, showing him that pink, slippery flesh that quivered for him, the liquid that dripped from my clenching hole for him.
I waited with breathless anticipation, my thighs shaking and little drops of sweat forming on my forehead.
“Sent the email, Deacon,” Richard said.
I couldn’t see Deacon unmuting the phone, but I knew he must have. His finger traced the top of my thigh high as I stared at my reflection in the shiny desk and listened to the soft clicks of his mouse. “Got it. Thanks, Richard.”
One thick finger probed at my entrance, and I turned and buried my mouth into my arm when it breached me.
“Looks good,” Deacon said, and I bit back my sudden laughter. Was he talking about the spreadsheet or my pussy?
Another finger joined the first in my pussy, and my swollen, wet flesh begged for more. The fingers in me turned and pressed with delicious deliberateness against my g-spot. I writhed on the desk, panting harshly into my arm as slow waves of pleasure washed over me.
My focus narrowed to Deacon’s thick fingers sliding in and out and my absolute certainty that if I made even a single sound, Deacon would stop touching me, and I would die in agony.
Was he still talking to Richard? Or was he unbuttoning his pants? Was his cock, stiff and swollen and slick with precum in his other hand? I writhed at the image of him behind me, fingers buried in my pussy while he stroked his dick with the other.
I wanted to scream at him, wanted to wail the filthy thought that clanged in my head over and over.
Fuck my cunt!
Instead, I bit into my arm and rubbed my stiff nipples against the desk, my pounding heart the only sound I could hear. I moaned into my arm when Deacon withdrew, leaving my hole aching and empty. I arched my back in helpless supplication, silently begging for him to fill me with his fingers again, to give me something to clench and squeeze and -
His big hands gripped my hips, and I almost wept when I felt the blunt head of his cock against my entrance. He stabbed into me, filling and stretching me with a sweet burn that I embraced.
His hand wound in my hair, and he pulled my head up until I stared wild-eyed at the ceiling. His voice spoke in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek. “Scream for me when I fuck your pussy, good girl.”
His other hand landed on my shoulder, holding me immobile as he drove in and out of my pussy. The hot pleasure I ached for, the need to be filled and taken finally satisfied, threw me over the edge, and I shouted, shrieked, screamed.
I pushed back against the pounding Deacon doled out, taking every deep stroke of his perfect cock as the waves of pleasure washed endlessly over me. He shouted harshly, his hand tightening painfully in my hair and on my shoulder and hot warmth spilled inside me. I clenched around him, milking his cock for every last drop as Deacon shuddered above me.
He released me, and I collapsed against the desk, sucking in breath after breath as Deacon planted one hand on the desk beside my head. His breath matched mine, and I had no idea how much time had passed before I croaked. “Tell me the phone is on mute.”
He barked laughter and kissed my back. “I ended the call with Richard before I fucked you.”
“Thank fuck,” I said, making him laugh again.
“Stay there,” he said before pulling out. He left the office, and I did as he asked. I probably looked ridiculous bent over his desk, but my legs were still quivering, and I wasn’t sure I could stand yet anyway.
He returned with his usual warm cloth and towel, and I closed my eyes as we went through the small cleaning ritual. I’d never had a partner do that for me before, and as Deacon helped me straighten and turn, I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
He kissed me. “It’s my pleasure. I didn’t use a condom because we didn’t use them on Friday or Saturday after the first one broke. I hope that’s okay.”
“Yes,” I said. My tits were still out like they were auditioning for a porn movie. My face crimson, I tucked them back into my dress and pulled the bottom half of the dress into place.
Deacon’s phone alarm went off, and he silenced it before smiling at me. “I enjoyed today, Riley.”
“Me too,” I said and waited for him to ask me to stay.
Instead, he glanced at his phone and then his computer screen. Disappointment washed over me, but I could take a hint. I plastered a smile on my face and slipped by him. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
“You as well,” he said.
He called my name as I reached his office door and hope renewed in my belly. I turned, and he said, “Don’t forget your glasses.”
