I slide my fingers out of her, and she gapes at me, open-mouthed. "Keep looking at me with your mouth open like that," I threaten. With my hand on her back, I lead her into the study and shut the door.
"And what?"
"What do you think?" I ask, sliding my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor. "I'll give you something to put in it."
"You're so crude," she says. "And stop taking your clothes off. We're in my father's office. It's..."
"Scandalous? Taboo? Just too naughty for the good girl?" I ask.
Her eyes linger on my chest. "I didn't know you had such a large vocabulary, Caulter," she says. "I was thinking more like disgusting and filthy."
I make a show of stripping off my pants as she watches me. "Filthy?" I ask. "You haven't seen filthy yet."
"Why are you taking your pants off in my father's office?" she asks stupidly. She knows the answer.
"You know why, Princess," I say. "Because you need to let loose. And getting fucked in your father's study is the best way of doing that. Unless you’d prefer the dining room first.”
“No I would not,” she says, her voice an emphatic no. But she doesn't move, and her eyes are fixated on my bare cock. “I would prefer…”
I stroke my length, giving her a show since she wants to look at it so damn much. “Wrapping your mouth around me and taking every inch until I fill your sweet little mouth with cum?”
“Oh my God, you are so crude." Again, her words say she's disgusted. But her hand is no longer at her mouth; it's on her chest, palm covering her breast.
"No, Princess, this would be crude." I cross to where she stands. From behind her, I bend her over and place her palms flat on her father's desk. She's quiet now; all I can hear is her breath.
I flip that sweet, flirty little skirt of hers, the one that's wedding white, pure as the driven snow, over her ass.
The ass I've been dying to grip while I plunge my cock inside her.
The ass I've been fantasizing about smacking every time she makes a smartass comment about anything.
So I do it. I bring my hand back, and -- thwack -- down hard against her ass cheek, leaving a red handprint on her flesh.
She looks over her shoulder, indignant. Yet she's not restrained in any way, and doesn't stand up. "Did you just spank me?"
I grin. "It won't be the last time I do it, either."
"Do women fall for this shit?" she asks.
"You're the one bent over your father's desk, Princess," I note, caressing the place I just hit. "You're also the one who's soaking wet. So you tell me."
"It doesn't mean I'm falling for anything." But she's still as I slip her panties over her bare ass and drop them to the floor.
"Whatever you say, sweetheart." I say. "Remind yourself of that when you're coming on my tongue."
"Caulter," she protests, but only until I start to lick her, my hands gripping her ass cheeks and pulling her pussy against my mouth. I make my way over every inch of her sweet lips, rolling my tongue over and over her clit as she stands, unmoving, bent over the desk. The word becomes less of a protest and more of a moan. "Caulter. Oh, Caulter."
That moan again, the one where she moans my name, is the one that kills me. It’s the one I use to mock her, but it's crazy how insane it makes me, hearing it come out of her mouth. I suck her clit into my mouth, and thrust my fingers inside her until her legs are quivering and she’s calling out my name over and over like it’s the only word in the English language she can remember. I plunge my tongue inside her sweet entrance.
“Caulter,” she moans. “Don’t stop. I’m going to -- I’m going to -- Oh my God, Caulter!” She cries out when she comes against me, her juices covering my face.
I'm not even going to give her even a moment to recover. I just stand up and walk over to my pile of clothes, taking a condom from my wallet and wrapping my dick before I return to her.
Her face is flushed. “That was --” she begins to speak.
“I don’t want to talk,” I warn. “I’m hard as a fucking rock and I want to be inside you.”
“Caulter, I --” She’s about to say something, but whatever the hell it is, I’m not about to listen. This girl has been teasing me long enough. "Stop talking. I'm done talking. I've been thinking non-stop about bending you over and fucking you, and that's what I'm going to do."
Katherine's face flushes. "You've been thinking about me?"
"Non-fucking-stop." I slide my hands down her arms, my chest pressed up against her back, my hard cock against her flesh, then run them over her breasts, and down her sides to grip her ass. Her skirt is bunched up around her waist, and she moans as she presses against me. "And you've been thinking about me. Tell me you have."
"Yes." She says it so softly I can barely hear it.
"Spread your legs," I order, and she complies. I'm not playing anymore. I press the tip of my cock against her entrance. "Tell me again. Have you been thinking about the last time I fucked you?"
"Yes," she whispers. I guide my cock inside her, gentle despite the fact that she's bent over her father's desk, her wet pussy practically begging for me to slide into her in one thrust. She's so fucking tight I'm surprised she can take me. But she does, her slickness making it easy for me to slip inside. She pushes her hips against me, letting out a groan under her breath, primal-sounding.
I thrust inside her slowly, my hands on her hips. "You thought of me while you touched yourself?"
"Yes," she says softly. "Yes. Yes."
"Touch yourself now," I order, and she does, rubbing her clit with her fingers. I reach up with one hand and tug at the strap of her dress. It doesn't come loose, so I yank harder, ripping the fabric off her shoulder and sliding my hand under her bra to cup. "Did you come thinking about me inside you?"
She's making this little half-moan, half-grunting sound as she touches herself. Her pussy so flooded with wetness that I can't keep myself from thrusting into her harder and harder.
Her grip on the desk slips, and papers go flying off in every direction, important papers, her father's work I'm sure. I'm bending the Senator's uptight daughter over his desk and scattering his papers everywhere.
"Did you think about my cock sliding in and out of your tight little pussy?" I ask.
"Yes," she pants, her hand moving frantically between her thighs. Her pussy tightens around me and I know she's close. "Fuck. Caulter...Yes."
"You wanted this hard cock inside you," I say, my grip on her hips harder. I'm so close to exploding. "You wanted this fucking cock inside you, filling you up with my hot cum. Say it."
"Yes, yes," she moans.
"Say it now."
"Oh my God," she gasps. She loses her grip on the edge of the desk and something else falls to the ground with a thud, but I don't give a shit about it. "I'm going to..."
"Fuck, Kate, I'm going to come," I warn, before I do, slamming my cock inside her with one final thrust and gripping her hips as I pull her against me. Her moan is loud in the stillness of the house, and when she comes, her muscles tighten around my cock, milking every last ounce of cum from me.
I'm breathing heavily, my fingers pressing into her flesh for what seems like an eternity before I can even think straight. When I finally pull out of her, I roll off the condom and look around for the trash.
"Don't you dare," she hisses at me.
"What?"
"Don't throw that away in here," she says, looking around. "Shit. I think we broke this." She pulls her dress down and squats to the floor to pick up a letter tray, clearly cracked along the edge.
I grab tissues from the desk to wrap the condom before getting my jeans. "So much for an orgasm helping you with your uptight-ness."
She's busily shoving papers back where they go, while I'm slipping my shirt back over my head. "Is that what you were trying to do?" she asks, placing the letter tray back on the desk while she mumbles something about finding glue. "I didn't know fucking me would magically transform me. It sure didn't chang
e you into Prince Charming."
"Would you be Cinderella in this scenario?" I ask. "Because I doubt Cinderella was a bitch." She picks up a book from the desk and throws it, and it grazes my arm. "What, are you twelve?"
"You called me a bitch," she says, her eyes flashing. "What the hell do you expect?"
"I did not call you a bitch." I set the book back in its place on the desk. "I said I doubted Cinderella was one."
"Implying that I am."
"Imply nothing," I say. "Guilty conscience?"
"You're the most irritating person I've ever met." Her ass is pressed up against the desk, and I'm leg to leg against her. “I hate you.” She has the most fuckable mouth I've ever seen.
"The feeling is completely mutual," I say, before I bring my mouth down on hers, crushing her lips against mine.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Katherine
Caulter and I are fucking. I mean, not this very moment, obviously. But we are fucking. In general. That’s our status. Like, if I had to update it on social media, it wouldn’t be one of those “it’s complicated” situations. It would just be “fucking.” That should be a status option, now that I think about it.
It's like my brain can't process this information. He's flipped some kind of switch in my body, turning me into the biggest stereotype ever: the uptight, virginal girl who loses the big V and becomes a sex-crazed maniac overnight.
I hate being a cliché. I tell myself that I'm not.
For one thing, it's not an overnight transformation. It's been a month, so I guess that's something.
A month of thinking constantly about him and his magic cock.
A month of thinking what it was like that night with him.
So now I'm one of those girls. One of the girls that Caulter has screwed. And now I'm basically the female version of Caulter, completely preoccupied with sex. Except that I’m fixated on just getting into his pants.
I’m standing on the ladder in the library. It sounds pretentious, a library in our lake house, I know.
But the library is my place. My father works in his office and hates this space. So it's mine. It's white and airy, this small room in a corner of the house with one wall that’s floor to ceiling bookshelves and one of those ladders that roll along the length of the wall. It even has a reading nook.
I run my fingers along the spine of the books, not looking for anything in particular. I’m really just looking for a distraction from Caulter. I don’t know where he is right now, but I know where he was this morning. This morning he was sneaking into the shower with me, pressing my back up against the marble tile while he thrust inside me. I can still feel the aching between my legs, the absence of him.
The last three weeks we've been sneaking around the house like we're having an affair, Caulter groping me as I pass him in the hallway or sneaking into my room through the door that opens onto our shared balcony.
I don’t know what Rose was thinking, putting our rooms next to each other. I’d suspect her of planning something like this, except I know she doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body. And you’d have to be malicious to want something to happen between me and Caulter. I mean, I fuck him, but he is the single most irritating person I've ever met in my life.
My father and Ella are flying back and forth, spending most of their time in DC. We have the house to ourselves except for Rose, who's here during the day. I'm worried she's catching on, but Caulter insists she's not. He turns on the charm when she's around, flirting with her and complimenting her cooking, wrapping her around his finger the way Caulter does with all women.
I have to reluctantly admit I can see the appeal. Caulter can almost be charming when he wants to be.
“Hey, sugar-tits.” He speaks softly, and I start, looking down to see him with that stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, Caulter is real charming, for sure.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.” I step down the ladder, but his hand is on my leg before I reach the bottom, sliding up underneath my skirt.
“I’ve decided something,” he says, cupping my ass with his palm.
My breath hitches in my throat, the way it always does when he touches me, and I grip the side of the ladder with one hand and try to slap his hand away with the other. “Stop touching me.”
“Why?” he asks, ignoring my directive. He pauses when he reaches the top of my ass and realizes there’s nothing there - no top part of a thong strap. Behind me, he squats down and peers up my skirt. “No panties.”
“You know why I'm telling you to stop,” I say. “My father and Ella got in last night, and they're around here somewhere. And the fact that I'm not wearing panties means nothing.” The lie is pathetic and feeble. I got dressed thinking about Caulter. No panties was with Caulter in mind.
Caulter’s hand is on my back, preventing me from getting down off the ladder. He slides his fingers between my legs, pressing against my entrance. “You’re full of shit, Princess,” he says. “Your father and Ella left to go out somewhere, so we're all alone. And you forgot your panties just for me.”
“Not true,” I whisper, but I arch my ass back, pushing my pussy against his fingers as he slips them inside. His thumb teases my asshole, sending shivers of arousal racing through my body. “We shouldn’t do this...not here.” Or at all, I tell myself. I have to stop doing this with him.
He responds by sliding his fingers further into my dripping pussy. “I’ve decided that from now on, you wear dresses. No panties. Skirts only.”
I laugh, but it turns into a moan as he reaches around with his other hand to stroke my clit. “Where the fuck do you think you get off, telling me what to do?”
“We've been through this before. I own this.”
“You’re crazy.” I can’t think clearly, distracted by what he’s doing to my body. Until a nose in the hallway startles me. “Shit. Stop.”
A look of irritation crosses his face, and he withdraws his fingers. I start to step down, thinking he’s giving me a reprieve from his delicious torment, but he grabs me by the arms before I can make it off the ladder, turning me around and pushing me back hard. “I want you now.”
“Did you just hear that?” I ask. The step of the ladder digs into my back, and I would slip and fall down, except for the fact that he’s pinned me there. I’m looking down at him, my head angled just above him. I shouldn’t be preoccupied with how he looks at me, his expression clouded with lust. I should be preoccupied with how my father and his mother might be somewhere in this house, how they could walk in at any moment. I should be preoccupied with how my father’s face would look when he walked in on the two of us in the library.
“I don’t hear anything,” he says, sliding both hands over my ass.
“Anyone could come in,” I protest. But the void left by his fingers is too distracting to allow me to focus on anything else.
I can’t be one of those girls who loses her mind once she gets a little bit of cock. Except it's not exactly a little bit, I think as he unbuckles his jeans and pulls out his dick. Nothing about it is small. “There’s no lock on the door.”
“And you’re not wearing any panties.” He pulls a condom from his pocket. I raise my eyebrow at him, and he smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ve just taken to carrying them with me now, being in the same house as you and all. You never know the when opportunity will strike.”
“I’ll have to make sure to wear panties around you,” I whisper, before he brings his mouth down hard on me, his kiss practically bruising. His tongue presses against mine, warring with mine, the movement an expression of our relationship.
When we come up for air, he looks at me sternly. “I said, no panties,” he growls. “Skirts and no panties. It’s a new rule.”
“You don’t make rules for me,” I say.
“I’ll take them, then.”
“What, you're going to take my panties?” I ask, laughing. “Good luck with that.” I start to step down from where I’m standing on the ladder, but he halts me,
putting his hand on my breast. “Don’t,” he says, his thumb rubbing my erect nipple through the fabric, as he wraps the other hand around the base of his cock. His hardness is against my inner thigh, and I’m so wet.
“What, you’re going to fuck me here?” I ask, my hands on his shoulders. “I’ll fall.”
“Put your arms around my neck,” he whispers, and I lean in close to him, despite all of my concerns about my father walking in on us, and wrap my arms around him. My dress is hitched up around my waist, and my breasts press against his face. He buries his face between them, but he doesn’t rip the dress off and cover me with his mouth the way I want him too. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I do, and somehow slide down the front of him as he guides his cock inside me and presses me against the ladder. The sharpness of the railing cuts into my back and the top of my ass, but I’m so overcome by pleasure running through my body that I can’t focus on the pain. I think the pain might even intensify it. I cling to him, my arms and legs around him, but most of my weight rests against the ladder. He drives into me hard, his thrusts short and insistent.
This is not slow and romantic; it’s fast and furious, primal and animalistic.
Every thrust of his takes me higher and higher. We’re both quiet, too aware of the possibility of getting caught. The thought of getting caught makes it more intense, even more forbidden. Caulter brings out something in me that makes me want to lose control. I’ve never been that way before with anyone. I'm not that kind of girl, the one who throws caution to the wind, who doesn't care about consequences. I'm not reckless.
I'm moaning his name as he brings me to the edge, his thrusts harder. "Fuck, yes, Caulter."
"Are you going to come for me, Princess?" he asks.
"Yes," I groan, his question setting me off, and the sweet release overtakes me. He thrusts into me again, once, twice, three times as he comes, and then...
The fucking ladder drops underneath us, making this metallic clanking sound as it slips out of the track and balances precariously on a shelf.
A Very Dirty Christmas Page 11
