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“Because of all I've done. Today was messy, but I usually don't mess up, and it's your fault.”
He was taken aback, and I hoped he could understand what I was saying. It made sense, what I was saying, but I couldn't quite grasp the words. My mouth was moving, and I was letting it, but why was I crying even harder? I felt so embarrassed because he was watching me with his perfect face, and I was turning into a mascara-streaked mess. So, I buried my face in my hands and let loose.
I tried to cry as quietly as I could, but I had no clue if I was able to achieve that. What I did know, though, was that at some point, as I sat up, I wiped my face. I grabbed the bottle for another sip of water, and then I stared out at the passing buildings and blinding lights.
We were quiet as we continued on the drive, and I tried to get my bearings right. I couldn’t remember much, but what I did know was that I wanted him. Perhaps it was the cold night or the alcohol, but my nipples were so hard and sensitive. I tried my best to ignore it, but I couldn't. So, I looked down at them and with the pad of my thumb, decided to massage them. I hoped he wouldn't see, or maybe I hoped he would. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I just felt so fucking horny.
“What are you doing?” I heard his voice then.
I turned to him and replied, “It's too sensitive. It's been like this, alright.”
He was silent again, and I didn't care, but there was something about completely rubbing them that became quite overwhelming. It felt good, and so, for a moment, I shut my eyes and lowered my head against the backrest. I wanted to stop. I knew that this was inappropriate, however, I couldn't. It felt too good.
I grabbed my breasts then, and I was sure that I moaned. I became even more restless, and my hands headed towards my dress to hike it up. My clit was so swollen, so needy, so sensitive. I needed to soothe it. I needed to fuck.
“Ahh,” I breathed. However, before I could touch myself, a wrist circled around mine. I turned around then and was surprised to find him so close to me.
It was my boss! Hunter. Hunter Swift.
At first, I felt scared, but the concern in his face melted me so much that it made me smile. Maybe he cared for me. Maybe he wasn't that oblivious to my existence. I was sure now that all of this was a dream. So, I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was soft. All I had wanted was a taste, but then I was struck. He tasted too good, so much better than what I had been thinking earlier. My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe it. And so, I tried to kiss him again, but his hand flattened against my face and stopped me.
“We're almost back at the hotel,” he said quietly as he leaned back against the chair. “Behave yourself.”
“But...” I felt on the verge of tears. I shifted closer to him then. If I couldn’t get him in real life, then I could get him now, right? I had to be able to do that. I couldn’t be shy.
However, I was. I shifted, still, our bodies were melded together, and yet I couldn't make the first move. All I did was shake my head, but I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face.
“What are you doing?” he asked, and I turned to look at him.
God, he was handsome! Beyond what I could describe. And those eyes of his.
I said then exactly what I had been thinking about from the first moment, but just in case someone else overheard and leaned forward and whispered into his ears.
“I want to suck you off.”
I leaned away then, our faces barely an inch from each other. He watched me, and then he turned away.
“No thanks.”
Emotions gathered in my heart again, and tears filled my eyes.
“It's all I've ever wanted.”
“What?” he asked.
I stomped my foot, but I was so startled by it that I had to stop. What was happening?
“Madison,” he called, and I turned once again to meet him. Our faces were so close. It was wonderful. And his lips, they were so soft... so sweet. I had tasted them before, right?
I was sure I had, though I couldn’t quite remember. Would he tell me if I had? Could I ask? I was too shy, then I realized, so I turned away. But then an idea occurred to me. I could just kiss him again. If I did, I could confirm if this was true or not, and if he complained, I would just tell him I was trying to test a theory. Everyone was entitled to a test, right? Was it a test or taste? I couldn’t figure it out.
“Madison,” he called again.
“Is it test or taste? I asked.
“What?”
“Kissing someone. Is it a test or taste?”
