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Her robe fell open, the belt slipping to the floor as my fingers loosened, and my hungry gaze rolled over her curves. It wasn’t panties and a bra. It was an all-in-one piece of lingerie I didn’t have a name for. Even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to remember it in that moment, because all the blood had rushed straight from my brain to my dick. The outfit was sheer in parts, the club lights hitting her perfectly, showing off her dark nipples.
Her pussy was right at my face height, covered only by the tiniest scrap of lace.
I put my hand on her hip, drawing her closer, stroking my thumb over the lace and then just below it to touch her skin.
She let out an audible gasp, and I glanced up at her while I fingered the bottom edge of her underwear. Her gaze burned with need, and it called out to the place inside me that wanted her like I wanted my next breath.
Testing her, I dragged my fingers lower, tracing the edge of the garment toward her center, but keeping my fingers to her upper thigh. The scent of her arousal urged me on, as did her breaths when they became ragged. My other hand ran up and down her thigh, squeezing and massaging as I went, while my right hand played with the lace, getting ever closer to the junction of her legs.
She still hadn’t stopped me. Hadn’t cut me down with sharp words or harsh glares.
Her gaze was molten, her body pliable. Her legs trembled.
“Hold on to something,” I murmured.
She pressed her palms to the wall.
I slipped my fingers beneath the lace and ran them over her bare mound, then lower to cup her pussy. She gasped, her thigh muscles clenching. I stared up at her, meeting her gaze and living for the need I found there.
She wanted this.
I pushed one finger between her folds, finding her wet and needy for me. She mewled at the touch on her clit and she widened her stance as much as the chair would allow.
I should have got her down. Should have put her on the floor, where she would have been safe from falling off. But with her pussy right there at perfect eating height, I couldn’t resist.
I pushed aside the lace, holding it tight with my left hand to expose her to me.
I groaned at the arousal shimmering there and explored her folds and clit, running my finger over the tight little bud that made her moan my name.
“Boston…”
Fuck, I loved that. And I’d barely begun.
“Want to taste you, baby. Hold on to me.”
I gripped her thighs, keeping her open to me, and my scalp prickled in delight when she thrust her hands into my hair.
I put my mouth to her center, darting a tongue out to taste her. “Fuck, Eve. You taste better than I imagined.”
She let out a little moan, rocking her hips in encouragement.
So I did it again.
“You’ve imagined this?” She massaged my scalp in the same tempo I licked her lower lips. “Oh God. That feels good.”
To me, too. My tongue was in fucking heaven, pushing against and around her secret bud. She lit up as I flicked it with the tip, her gentle hold on my hair becoming a push on the back of my head, guiding me to where she wanted it.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you for weeks. I want to watch you come. In person this time, not on video.” I pushed two fingers up inside her tight canal, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her.
“Yes,” she moaned loudly, the word echoing around the empty room.
My dick strained uncomfortably behind my uniform pants, but I ignored it, my sole focus on getting Eve to come against my tongue.
Her hips rocked, and I picked up the pace, thrusting my fingers deep inside her, hitting her G-spot each time and building her higher.
I felt the change in her even before she called out that she was close. A new flood of arousal coated my tongue. I got my face right between her thighs, licking her from her clit, right back to her tight little hole, and fingering her until she was panting, aching to come.
“Boston,” she moaned. “I’m going to come. Oh God, please!”
