by Jet Mykles
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, hopping back onto the table. “Why don’t you show me your presentation?”
He stood. She spread her legs. He gripped his rod firmly and lay it at her opening. Then inch by gloriously slow inch, he penetrated her.
“That’s so good,” she moaned, gripping his shoulder. He felt short nails dig into his muscles.
He pulled out an inch, then plunged in two, making her gasp, feeling her tight channel adjust to hug him.
Finally, he was as far as he could go. Their hips were pressed together. Her legs came around to circle his waist, her arms about his neck.
“I like what you’ve shown me so far,” she breathed against his mouth. “But what’s say we really see what this fucker can do?”
The profanity from that perfect mouth shook him. He couldn’t go as slow as he wanted, his body intent on feeling the friction of her walls. But she didn’t seem to want slow, meeting him pound for pound as he rocked within her.
She threw her head back, exposing neck and breasts. He took the chance to gather a breast in his hand and bring the nipple to his mouth. He felt the instant reaction as her walls clutched his cock.
It was intense. He heard her next orgasm coming as much as he felt it. Her moans became little mewls of pleasure, then gasps for air. She slammed against him with so much force that he had to lean into her and the table to keep his balance. He was delighted to find that there was nothing delicate or restrained about this tailored woman’s orgasm. She came with a strangled shout, loud enough for his ears only. Her body shuddered and convulsed. Pressing her body to his, she bit–hard–at his shoulder.
Her ferocity threw him over the top. He exploded with a muffled groan, stabbing even after his cock had stopped pumping semen into her.
They remained locked together for precious moments. Her crushing embrace was one of the only reasons he was still standing on wobbly knees.
He felt her lap and kiss at the stinging bite mark he could feel on his shoulder. “Sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “but that was...incredible.”
“Don’t be sorry about anything. I’m not.”
She pulled back to look into his face. “You’re not.” It was a verification, not a question.
“Not a bit. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
She’d never allowed compliments like that before, but now she thrived on it.
“We have to pretend this didn’t happen for my last two weeks,” she told him.
His thumb had found her nipple, his fingers cradling her heavy breast. “And then?”
She smiled. “I just bought this beautiful little house up the coast. I was hoping you could join me there for awhile.”
“What about the job?”
“The house is only an hour away. I still want you to have my job.”
“So then I’ll have two jobs.”
She frowned. “Two?”
“One here. And one being your sex slave.” He grinned. “Boss.”
