Executive Engagement: A Boardroom to Bedroom Fake Fiancee Romance
Page 15
Pulling her by her hips, I force her to arch her back, and I position my cock right at her thong, sliding myself back and forth against her slick pussy lips.
As I’m teasing her, she starts grinding her ass against me, trying to force my cock into her from behind.
“An impatient little slut, aren’t you?”
“Well, with a cock like that, can you blame me?”
Laura’s words send a jolt of pleasure through my body. Fuck, that low, seductive voice drives me mad. But now that I have her under my control, I want to savor every fucking moment.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait,” I say, lowering myself to my knees against the wall, my face right at her pussy, offering my first lap at her sweet pussy lips.
“Aaaaah,” she moans, thrusting her hips against my mouth as I reach her clit.
I bring my hands to her ass and push her pussy into my face, lapping at it furiously, getting as much of her taste on my tongue as I possibly can.
Laura
Jeremy’s tongue slides along the length of my pussy lips, driving me absolutely mad with pleasure. I weave my fingers through his hair, forcing his face against my pussy as I grind against his mouth and tongue.
“Aaaaah,” I moan lightly, but enough for him to hear it while he’s buried between my legs. He pulls his mouth off of me and puts his fingers against my clit. He comes up face-to-face with me.
“I want you to cum for me, Laura,” he states, officiating his request with a hungry kiss, giving me a taste of my own sweet pussy against my tongue.
He spins me around and pushes my body back against that cold, hard brick. My nipples are so hard from the temperature that they’re aching.
Jeremy plunges his fingers deep into my pussy and grinds them against my G-spot.
I dig my nails into the cement along my sides and grit my teeth, moaning and whimpering under my breath as his fingers pump relentlessly into my pussy.
I’m on edge from his touch, and I want nothing more than for Jeremy to bury his cock deep inside of me and fill me with his cum.
The thought alone sends me over the edge.
I gush right there. Hard. My entire body radiates from head to toe, and I come all over his fingers and let out long, throaty moans as I climax.
Jeremy slides his coated fingers out of my pussy, and they brush against my ass and my hip as I twirl back around to face him.
Before I can say a word, he slides his fingers into my mouth, having me suck my own cum off of his skin.
I swish my sweet, juicy nectar around in my mouth and swallow it down while my eyes meet with his. My heart is racing, and my head is spinning.
“Good girl,” he comments. A chill crawls down my spine as his words penetrate my ears.
I never imagined Jeremy to be the dominant type, but I’ve got to say that I’m pleasantly surprised. I love having a man just take control and make me beg and plead for his touch.
And Jeremy is a fucking pro at that so far; he’s even given me goosebumps from his commanding, sexy tone of voice alone.
My pussy is aching so hard for his cock that I can barely function. I can’t even fucking see straight right now.
All I can think about is that monster cock pounding into me.
I slide myself back against the wall, facing him and luring him in. I wag a finger at him, beckoning him to follow.
He draws himself near, and I graze my nails along his broad shoulders. He bites his lip as he brings his face close to mine, holding me in his gaze.
I feel the tip of Jeremy’s cock positioned at my pussy. I’m ready for him to take me to another level, fucking me right here and now.
Fuck me, Jeremy. Take me. I fucking want it.
As I stare deep into those hazel eyes, his cock meets my pussy lips, sliding through my slick, dripping nectar along the way.
I position my hips upward, pushing in just the tip. I shudder as I take my best friend’s cock inside me, inch by agonizingly slow inch.
Then Jeremy takes control, pulling my arms together and restraining them over my head as he rams himself fully inside of me. I let out a loud, shameless moan and dig my nails into my palms, leaving indentations where they’ve pressed, even after I relax my hands.
As he presses his firm, muscular torso against my tits, Jeremy brings his face close to my ear.
“You’re going to get us noticed out here making all that noise, Laura,” he whispers to me.
Shit, he’s right.
“And I like when a girl’s not afraid to get caught,” he adds as he starts fucking me relentlessly and unapologetically.
I gasp and moan wildly at his violent thrusts into my cunt.
He moves his hands to my ass and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his hips and grind against him as he thrusts into me over and over in the most perfectly matched rhythm, like our bodies were made for each other.
I push my ass out further for him, tilting my body sideways against the building, but it forces his cock even deeper and makes me writhe with pleasure as his cock grinds my G-spot.
I moan and pant as his cock furiously pumps in and out of my dripping cunt, driving me further into a euphoric state.
The force of our motions are making my tits bounce so hard that they’re practically hitting me in the face with each violent, perfect thrust.
He brings his face close to me again. We’re nearly kissing, exchanging our breath with one another as we fuck in this intimate, seemingly abandoned smoking area.
“Come for me, Laura,” he commands.
His words hit me hard, and as I shudder, my pussy pulses hard, and I come all over his cock, my walls gripping him like a vise. I collapse against him, riding my orgasmic wave all the way to shore.
“Fuck, yes. Good girl.”
Jeremy’s cock is twitching and throbbing hard against my pussy walls before he floods my pussy with his own cum. It mixes with mine and gushes from my little hole.
As my pussy is filled with his creamy cum, Jeremy pulls out, and I cling to him, letting it drip from my pussy and down my thighs as we’re locked together.
I look out above us to see the moon, now in full view with not a cloud in sight. The stars are also shining brightly over us as we embrace, admiring the ambience of the night sky.
I don’t quite know what tonight means in terms of…any kind of a future for us, but there’s a couple of things I know for sure.
First: Jeremy is hung like a fucking horse.
Second: I can’t even remember my ex’s name anymore.
Alexis and WineBar #3
“But I’m a good girl,” I said in a high pitched whine as he pushed me against the wall and his hand traveled under my skirt.
I’ve always been about doing whatever I felt like I wanted and not having any qualms. I’ve never been the kind of girl who said no because I was worried about what people would think.
But with him, I was still trying to process what was going on.
This man had completely taken me by surprise.
He sent a car to pick me up.
He cleared out a section of the restaurant we went to. The same restaurant I had been trying unsuccessfully to get reservations to for ages.
His hands grabbed my thighs at dinner.
He had a glint in his eyes throughout our meal. I tried to talk, but his gaze was too much.
We needed alcohol. He took me to his bar.
I ordered a cosmo.
He said no.
And he got me tequila.
And I glued myself to him for the rest of the night.
He grabbed my ass when I got back from the ladies room. He pawed at it.
And dragged me outside.
Where he threw me against the wall.
I whimpered and said, “But I’m a good girl.”
He laughed as his hands grazed over the fabric of my pink La Perla.
“You’re my personal slut now, baby,” he growled.
I buried my head into his neck and pulled him clo
ser. My hips bucked against his hands.
“Say it,” he commanded.
What the hell.
“I’m your personal slut, Daddy,” I cooed into his ear as his fingers began to work my clit.
I mean, those panties were ruined anyways, you know? Might as well take them off.
Sabrina
The best thing about working the night shift is that my sleep schedule’s totally fucked.
Okay, I know that sounds not-great. But hear me out here.
When I’m wide awake, the rest of the world is sleeping peacefully. No telemarketers, no door-to-door dildo salesmen, and next to no traffic out on the streets.
Sure, it’s left my skin alabaster pale from lack of sunlight, and it’s made dating kind of a clusterfuck…
When I was a little girl, I totally grew up dreaming about becoming a mommy someday—but that’s looking like a fat fucking chance now. The only prospective mates I’m going to meet on this schedule are night security guards, janitors, and the delivery boys at my favorite Chinese place—and let’s not kid ourselves, babes.
I’ve totally tried.
But so far, nothing’s clicked.
I guess that’s the price I have to pay for DJing NYC’s naughtiest late-night radio show.
On the bright side, Sinful Selections is a total hit with my fellow vamps working the graveyard shift here in the city. I play cool, dirty rock music from midnight to six a.m., sleep all day, and grab an order of General Tso’s at New Kum Den before I head back to work and do it all over again.
There’s another bright side to being up all night after the sun goes down, too: when I have day off, I have the laundry room of the Bradford all to myself.
So when I forget to wash clothes for two weeks, I can do laundry in just my bra and panties when I have to.
And tonight? Yeah, tonight, I don’t even have a bra or panties clean.
But hey—no one else is up at this crazy-ass hour, so it’s not like it matters. And there’s something kind of novel about doing laundry completely in the nude.
That is, until he walks through the door.
Dark brown hair. Green eyes. A nose like a Roman general and a chest like…fuck.
Have I seriously forgotten what a man’s chest actually looks like, or is it actually that good?
His shoulders are so broad beneath his lab coat that he has to turn slightly just to fit through the laundry room door, and his slacks…
Let’s just say that it’s obvious he’s got a lot going on in the pants department—and his package fucking doubles when he finally notices me.
At first, though? At first, he’s obviously in total man-on-a-mission mode. He’s got his laundry hamper tucked beneath his arm as he heads straight for a washer, not even bothering to look up at he enters.
Which is kind of awkward, because there I am, standing barefoot in front of my dryer, watching every item of clothing I have on-hand tumbling around, still soaking wet.
Not that he notices. No, whatever he’s thinking about, he’s thinking about it so hard that he doesn’t seem to be aware that other people even exist right now.
As far as he’s concerned, he’s in the Bradford’s laundry room totally alone—which becomes apparent when he shrugs off his lab coat, unbuckles the belt around his waist and starts to pull his shirt up over his head.
I should have fucking bolted then. I’m as much of an exhibitionist as the next ho, don’t get me wrong. But being totally nude in front of a total stranger, while kind of hot, isn’t exactly how I want to introduce myself to my neighbors.
In fact, I’m about to bolt. I’m about to do the quickest runner up to my apartment that I’ve ever done in my life. Like going streaking, but without the security guards at Yankee Stadium chasing after me for once.
But then I see them.
His abs.
His gorgeous, perfectly sculpted, Roman statue abs.
They’re the kind of abs that, once you see them, you actually can’t bring yourself to look away.
He has hairy arms, a hairy chest—a sexy happy trail leading the eye down his rock-hard stomach and disappearing beneath his unbuckled belt.
I could lick ice cream off of abs like that.
Hell, I want to go pick up my dinner order from New Kum Den and eat it off those abs in lieu of a plate.
My mouth is salivating just thinking about it.
My pussy is practically drooling, for fuck’s sake.
There’s a beautiful, perfect moment where his face is totally obscured while he pulls his t-shirt over his head, and I can’t decide whether I want to touch myself or just tackle him right there while he’s caught off guard.
Instead, I just stand there. Staring. Like a total fucking perv.
And like, look. I’m a tall, leggy bleach blonde with D-cups and a bubble butt. Usually I’m the one being perved on—not the other way around.
First time for everything, I guess.
Kind of like how, when he finally gets his shirt over his head and actually sees me gawking at him, I bet it’s the first time he’s been so startled that he gets an erection.
“Holy—” he says, freezing up and getting hard all at once.
If this was a porno, this is the point where the bang music would start playing.
Instead, he just stares back at me for a second.
And I stare at the way his dick is threatening the structural integrity of his slacks.
“Fuck,” he finishes, and then—thank god—he laughs. “Uh…shit, sorry. Looks like, ah…”
“We had the same idea?” I ask, a little smirk playing on my lips.
Because seriously. He’s gorgeous. He’s a modern Adonis in a lab coat.
Or, I guess, out of one—since it’s currently on the floor.
He stoops to pick it up and holds it out to me like a peace offering.
Personally, I’d rather he offered me that dick…
But I just wave it away.
“Nah, man,” I tell him. “It’s cool. Don’t let me compromise your load.”
“I’d say it’s already compromised,” he laughs.
I can practically feel his gaze gliding up and down my body. The way it lingers, he might as well be feeling up my tits.
And all things considered…I don’t think I even mind.
Actually, I think I’d like that.
I’d like that a lot.
“Sabrina.” I lean across the row of washers that separates my side of the room from his and offer him my hand to shake. “You must be new here. Normally, I’m the only one who does her laundry at four a.m.…thus.”
I nonchalantly gesture to my tits and watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his sexy throat as he takes my hand.
“Rainier,” he says back. “I’m…ah, fuck. I’m sorry for intruding. Honestly, I didn’t mean…Should I go?”
He’s trying really fucking hard to keep his eyes off my tits now, and I’m trying really fucking hard to stop imagining how they’d feel pressed up against his hunky chest.
“It’s okay. I’m just waiting on the dryer. I’ll go.” I try to pull my hand away—not that I want to—but he still has it held tight in his.
Rainier’s skin is warm. His palm is slightly calloused. And it takes him just long enough to let go of our handshake that I have a chance to realize how fucking wet I am right now.
“Seriously,” he says, pushing his lab coat into my hands before he lets me move away. “If you’re leaving…put this on. Who knows what kind of creeps might be lurking in the halls at this time of night.”
“Flashers, voyeurs and perverts, am I right?”
He smiles at me as I shrug his lab coat over my shoulders. “I hope I didn’t ruin your night, Sabrina.”
I can’t even help it. I wink at him as I turn to leave.
“Actually, I’d say that you made it a lot better.”
Rainier
Whatever I expected when I bought my apartment at the Bradford…
Runnin
g into Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus bopping around in the laundry room wasn’t it.
Sabrina. Her name is Sabrina. Sabrina with the long blonde hair and the perky tits and the ass like it was sculpted by God himself…
I just keep seeing her as Venus in my head, is all.
It’s not that I’m not accustomed to beautiful women. Before med school, I could have a different woman in my bed every night of the fucking week. But since I started working the night shift…
I wouldn’t say that I don’t see many beautiful women anymore.
Just that when I do, they’re usually trauma victims being rushed through the ER and straight into surgery. Car accidents, mystery tumors, domestic violence injuries…when I see beautiful women, it’s usually on the worst days of their lives.
These days, when I’m inside someone, it’s because they’re laid out on my operating table instead of in my bed.
As it turns out, it’s hard to see a woman as a potential dinner date once you’ve pumped her stomach and picked pieces of her front windshield out of her major organs.
So, dating—dating isn’t much of a reality for me anymore. It doesn’t bother me much, except for when it does.
I’ve always wanted to be a father. But as far as my career is concerned, that’s a dream that was destined to be dead on arrival.
I need to let it go…even though that’s fucking hard sometimes.
Especially after seeing Aphrodite incarnate naked in the laundry room last night.
I probably spooked the hell out of her, walking in on her like that. I’m still kicking myself for not being smoother—or more charming—or for not getting her fucking number, for that matter.
On one hand, it’s funny how alike we are—apparently, we both work hard enough that when we do laundry, we wash everything we own all at once.
On the other, the second I laid eyes on her gorgeous tits and her waspish waist, that long blonde hair and those broad, curvaceous hips…
I popped an erection so intense it nearly ripped through my best slacks. I fucking know she noticed it, too.