by Ally Adams
He put a finger into my panties and began to slide them down over my hips. My breath was catching; the world didn’t exist in this moment, just Tomás and me alone on his bed. He moved his lips to my mouth and his finger slowly teased its way up the inside of my lower lips, feathering lightly before returning and dipping further into my wetness.
“Tomás,” I moaned.
“Al...iss, it’s okay,” he assured me. He must have thought my reaction was nerves but it was just the opposite. I wanted him to continue, to take me now. I wanted all of him, inside me, over me, under, around, just bring it home.
His repositioned, keeping one hand between my legs and reaching with the other hand to my nipple; he began to gently squeeze and tug. All the time, his tongue explored my mouth as his fingers opened me and found my clit. I bucked and froze.
“Al…iss, relax your body a little, you can trust me,” he said.
His finger dipped in my wetness again, returning to the most sensitive tip and gently began to make circles. Electricity and emotions coursed through me while Tomás played my body.
I suppressed a cry, gasping, as my back arched and still Tomás wouldn’t release me. He kept up the motion, slowing it down, and his touch becoming gentler. I begged him to stop and he edged off, holding me and gently kissing me.
“It’s okay, just let yourself go,” he said.
I tried. I was frightened to be uninhibited, to release my feelings and cry out in orgasm. Was it normal?
He began to increase the pace and I groaned with pleasure and embarrassment. I had never lost control like this, ever.
“Good, relax my Al…iss, it’s okay, trust your reactions,” he whispered and then I relaxed and trusted him. I let his fingers bring me to screaming point and I arched and cried out his name. It seemed to go on for ages—a heated ride of extreme pleasure like nothing I had ever experienced or could describe and all by his hand. He worked me until I pushed his hand away as it became agony. Tomás moved up to press me against him. I couldn’t even see him for the lust haze in my eyes.
“That was... orgasmic,” I whispered.
“It was,” Tomás agreed.
“Tomás...”
“Yes Al...iss?”
“You’re so good,” I said, still feeling dreamy.
He laughed. “Cookie, that is only our first play with hands. Next time my tongue wants to take you, then after that I want to enter you and then we will try all different positions and places and we will try some very bad stuff.”
“You are the master,” I said. “I am your very willing student.” My heart rejoiced at the future dates lined up in the ‘classroom’ with Tomás.
“I’ll have fun teaching you,” he teased, flashing me a sexy smile.
I moved my hand down to his boxer-briefs; I couldn’t believe his penis hadn’t burst out of the fabric it was so hard and tight in there.
“Your turn to be released,” I said, my voice husky with satisfaction. I saw his surprised expression. “I have a few skills,” I assured him, rolling him onto his back, “and I’m a quick study. You can tell me what you like and want too.”
“I think you’ll do fine,” he said, smiling and dropping his head back on the pillow with his hands behind his head. As I ran my fingers along the taut fabric covering his penis he omitted a low growl which seemed to come from deep inside his chest.
I straddled him, and slowly peeled back the fabric of his boxers, exposing him inch by inch. His hands moved down to grip the sheets as I released his penis until it stood fully erect before me. I slid his briefs off and tossed them away, then slid between his legs where I sat with his prized possession taking center stage.
“Oh Tomás, you are a work of art,” I said.
“Hands only!” Tomás warned me.
“But...” I pouted.
“No, Al...iss, the teacher has spoken. Everything in good time.”
“Okay,” I sighed and then quickly flicked the head of his penis with my tongue.
He inhaled sharply and muttered my name. “Don’t get ahead of the teacher, Al...iss.” He leaned up, grabbed the back of my head and pulled me towards him. I fell onto his chest and penis, not doing any damage—he was so hard I think I bounced. He stuck his tongue in my mouth, hard and fast and needy. It was a powerful kiss; I thought about the ladies at the bar saying he was rough. I looked forward to a bit of rough.
He pulled away. “That’s the only place your tongue is allowed tonight,” he growled, and gave me a warning look. I swallowed and nodded. He pushed me back. I resettled between his legs where I could study his erection. I licked my lips; it was subconscious, honest.
“Behave,” he said.
“Shh, Tomás, I have work to do here,” I said, trying to focus.
He chuckled and stopped abruptly when I began to feather my fingers up his penis. I touched him lightly everywhere, watching as it seemed to hum in my hands. I looked at Tomás lying on his back looking so beautiful. His eyes were closed and I felt I had all his power in my hand. I worked my hand below his balls, softly releasing and stroking, darting to his anus and back and watching as his body stiffened and his hands released and grasped the sheets.
I began on his shaft, taking some of the milky spill from the head and working it down his erection. Using both hands I began to pump and massage him.
“Saints be praised,” I heard him whisper or something in Spanish that sounded like that. He opened his eyes and watched me, then as I increased the pace of my movements, he moaned, closed his eyes and gripped my legs. I loved how his balls tightened in my hand, magic. I continued but I picked up the pace, hoping that he would come soon or else I didn’t know what else to do, yet. But he rewarded me…
“Al...iss,” he cried out and came in a flow of milky liquid. I kept going, only gentler in my touch until he grabbed my hands, begging me to stop. He pulled me over to lie beside him and I traced my hand gently over his chest as we lay quietly. I dipped my fingers into the pale white semen and I could feel him watching me. Strange stuff.
Eventually Tomás spoke. “I think you are head of the class, Al...iss,” he said.
I smiled. “I have a very good teacher. He makes me want to learn, such a rare gift.”
We lay in blessed silence again for a while longer, just enjoying the post-sex glow and the scent of sex.
“So,” Tomás eventually said, “how was that date?”
“Just great,” I assured him. “So great.”
“Our lesson continues on Friday night, does that work for you, Cookie?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I snapped with glee. “Any homework before then?”
“Oh yes,” he said, with spice in his voice. “I’ll be texting you your homework instructions.”
I think I giggled like a twelve-year-old. Study had never been this much fun.
“But there is one more thing you must do tomorrow.”
“Mm?” I asked suspiciously.
“We have the press conference in the morning. What will you be wearing?” he asked.
“Our office team has to wear the uniform... navy skirt, white shirt, blue and gold Saints silk scarf. It’s nice actually. They make us wear that so you can tell us from the players.” I poked him in fun.
He laughed. “Yes, it would be hard to tell you and The Russian apart. Then your homework starts tomorrow. No panties.”
“What?” I turned to look at him.
His eyes laughed as his smile began to widen.
“You heard your teacher, no panties under the skirt.” He ran his hand down and I stopped it midway. He pushed on and started circling around my butt, making his way to the front. I couldn’t speak while I followed the pattern of his hand. “When I look at you tomorrow in the press conference, I will know that under that skirt you are naked and my tongue will be there on Friday night.”
I felt the rush of desire and fear. “Have mercy,” I told him.
Tomás laughed.
“What if I have to go up a stai
rcase or I collapse from excitement and my skirt rides up?”
“Then unfortunately I won’t be the only one to see your lovely pussy will I?” His fingers made their way back up to my face and he stroked my cheek. “No panties, Alice, or you’ll make your teacher very cross.”
Chapter 15
Sasha Saxon from the Saints was in the office before me when I rocked into work Thursday morning; Jim was in too but he was always in early and Kay arrived ten minutes or so after me, harried as she always was after the school run. Could they tell I wasn’t wearing panties? Good grief, the things I do for a guy, well this guy. I should have just worn them and slipped them off before the press conference but there was something so sexy about knowing I kept his secret.
It was Jim and Sasha’s job to pull together the media conference at eleven; Kay and I were on hand to help. The club didn’t do the full-on media event very often but there was this weekend’s game to talk about, a new substantial sponsor to announce and a few other bits of club news including all the recent media hype about the drain the club would face as players were tempted by European clubs. No wonder they had signed Lucas up as tightly as they could and wanted to keep him happy—it helped that he wanted to stay near his friends, and now Mia too.
I should have been exhausted but I was on a natural high. I got home late from my date with Tomás, or early depending on how you look at it. I fell straight into a deep and satisfied sleep only because my body couldn’t take any more lying awake thinking of Tomás, and I woke up at seven a.m. I allowed Dad and Ryan two questions only, answered those and was at the office at eight-thirty, ready for a day of Saints and scenery. God, my life was great.
Except for one small thing, I didn’t ask Tomás the question I really wanted to ask—who was Julieta? The Julieta that was arriving on Sunday. My mind went to the date last night, again—who was I kidding, I’d thought of nothing else since I opened my eyes. What a wonderful night, what a kind, sexy and wonderful man. I was so happy I was scared... I know that might not make sense but anyone who has ever fallen in love will totally get it.
Sasha’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “You look particularly happy this morning.” She studied me.
“I am particularly happy,” I agreed.
I’d be happier if I had my panties on, but seeing Tomás would make up for that.
I continued, “I’m in a job I love, I get to work with you, Sash, every day, the scenery is great and...” I heard the coffee van pull up outside, “... the coffee van is here! Kay, can I get you one?”
“May God bless you, Alice,” she said, fishing some coins out of her top desk drawer. “A double shot latte made on soy please.”
“Like I could forget that order,” I teased her, rising and taking the coins. “Sash?”
“I’ll come with you,” she said, still eyeing me off.
I stuck my head into Jim’s office. “Coffee, boss? The van is here,” I said.
“Why not? Thanks,” he said and pulled his wallet out and offered me a few dollars.
“Cappuccino with one sugar,” I said.
“You’ll go a long way, Alice,” he teased me.
Sasha and I walked out of the admin offices and joined the staff already in the queue at the coffee van.
“Nice uniform,” I said, admiring her outfit.
“Right back at you,” she said, “you wear it well.”
I sighed. “Bit sad when we have to deliver our own compliments.”
“Undo a few buttons and lose the bra and I’m sure we’ll get plenty,” she said.
My heart rate went into overdrive. I hoped she didn’t have an inkling that I was going commando from the skirt down. Thank God it was knee length. Mm, Tomás Carrera would pay for this one. I bet he was secretly laughing right now—I bet he didn’t believe I would do it. It did feel pretty sexy though, in the right company.
Sasha sighed and looked to the top of the queue. “C’mon Russian, how many coffees are you ordering there?”
The enormous Saints player cum security office turned and looked at us.
“Sasha, I’m not built for speed, but if I can get before you in the queue, then you deserve to wait,” he said. The queue waiters laughed along. It was hard to tell most times what The Russian was thinking or if he was joking; he was so dry and nothing really changed in his expression, his tone or his speed. He was a walking wall; a muscle-built, huge wall.
Sasha gave him her best ‘you’ll pay for that’ look.
“I have one word for you, Russian,” she called to him. “Merchandise.”
“Oh yeah, about that,” he said and turned to her, “have you got a kid’s jersey I could send my cousin?”
“Ah, have you got a cappuccino with my name on it?” she asked.
He picked up the two he had ordered; one for himself and his fellow Saints’ player and security officer, Eddie Mosley who shared the office with him. “If you had just got here a few minutes earlier I would have ordered you one,” he said, with a shrug.
“Hmm.” She smirked at him, as the line moved along.
“Morning Alice,” he said as he passed me.
“Morning Russian,” I said, with a smile. I’m sure I was radiating a post-orgasm glow.
“Good to see you girls in uniform,” he said, “love a woman in uniform.” He continued to the office.
I looked at Sasha and lowered my voice. “You get on well with him. Shame he’s taken. Leesa, his girlfriend, is really nice though.”
“I heard they split. Anyway, uggh, I’m not going out with a player,” she said, quietly. “How incestuous... working here, hanging out with one after hours. I’d have Saints on the brain. Besides, I’ve got my eye on someone.”
“Really? That’s good,” I said, pleased for her. “So I wouldn’t know him then?”
“Yes, your brother,” she said, then laughed.
“Oh, ha, you’re very funny, he’s not even legal age yet.” I rolled my eyes at her and she broke up laughing at her own joke. She was a bit ‘out-there’.
When I got back to the office and finished delivering Jim and Kay their coffees, I threw myself into the game entertainment that was required for the weekend—luckily my predecessor had set that up for the next few months and I was just required to follow up and tick all the boxes, an easy learning curve. I checked the rundown of events was still correct and posted a round of updates on the Saints’ social media sites. Next, I had some player appearance requests to wade through and approve or deny—they seemed to be never-ending, and then we had the media event at eleven and our own weekly marketing team meeting at three p.m. I went to the ladies’ and forgot there were no panties to pull down—super weird.
Back at my desk, my phone vibrated with a text message and I reached for it. There was only one person I wanted to hear from this morning and I wasn’t disappointed... make my day!
Tomás: Hi Cookie, my very promising student, thinking of U
I grinned and then tried to hide it. My stomach flipped with excitement and I texted back quickly.
Me: Morning ‘T’ for Tomás & teacher. Thank U 4 a wonderful nyt. It truly wz a gr8 D8
Tomás: 4 me too. R U panty-less?
Me: Ys sir, as instructed
Tomás: You’re goin 2 b begging me 2 take your V
Me: I’m begging U already
Tomás: It must b memorable, a V-trip, I insist
Me: I don’t think I’ll ever 4get
Tomás: C U @ the press conf. Then, I will txt U 2nyt with homework
Me. Don’t make it 2 hard.
Tomás: Trust me, it’s hard right now.
Ah Tomás, Tomás, Tomás. Thank God I don’t have a dick. It would be hard all day thinking of Tomás, so uncomfortable sitting down and I’d get absolutely no work done. Another weird thought... wow, I’d never need drugs for tripping.
Chapter 16
The press conference was in the Saints’ club room and there was a good turnout. A dozen or so of the key players were
in attendance—it was compulsory—along with several television camera crew, and staff from the two newspapers and radio stations with their microphones set up at the front of the room. The players were in their uniform too—a navy suit, white shirt and club tie. Men usually always looked good in a suit especially when they were fit and gorgeous to begin with and the Saints’ boys didn’t disappoint. It was an effort to not drool. Where was I? Oh yeah, Sasha and I manned the door; then I took a pile of press kits from Jim and circulated, handing them out. Winning brownie points basically—it was my first week, and I wanted to be a hit.
I saw Lucas arrive and begin to circle the room and as he passed me, he gave my shoulder a squeeze and I gave him one of those smiles that said “you’re adorable—but don’t hurt my best friend because I am in charge of the Saints’ Facebook page”. Amazing how much one expression can hold.
Kay had taken over at the welcome desk and Sasha swanned past and nudged me. “Show off,” she said.
“What?”
“Friends with the legend, hey?” she said, with a glance to Captain Lucas.
“You mean... the legend dress designer?” I asked wide-eyed looking directly at her.
She laughed. “Yeah right, that you are. One day, you may just be saying that.”
A female journalist about my age wearing a beige suit and dangerously high heels walked up to Sasha and me.
“Can I have one of those?”she asked, looking at the press kits in my hand.
“Of course,” I said, and gave her one. She looked at my name tag and job title and it wasn’t a friendly look—it was like the look a carnivore gives a bunny in those National Geographic TV documentaries.
“Oh, you got the event coordinator job; I went for that,” she said. Her lips thinned as she appraised me as though it was my fault I applied.
