“Ian?” she called out softly.
Daria ticked off the seconds in her head, her breathing ramping up at the quiet shrouding her. His hand wrapped around a breast, the soft touch of his clothing covered her back. His thumb and index finger tugged her nipple. Breathless, she spoke.
“I thought you left me.”
His fingers drifted over her collarbone when he spoke. “No, baby, I wanted to make sure you were ready for me. After all you were a bad girl for teasing me and I owe you a spanking.”
Letting go of her tit his hand traveled down her body with a feather-light touch. She sucked in her stomach as his fingers trailed across her bellybutton. Placing his hand on her pussy, he flexed his fingers, rubbing her mound. Slipping his middle finger into her cleft, he pushed the digit deep into her saturated folds.
“Is all this for me, baby?” He pulled his hand away and pushed the finger to her lips.
“Yes.” She sucked his digit into her mouth.
Pulling his hand from her lips, he left her standing alone again. Daria shifted, hoping to hear him. She tilted her head when a squeaking reached her ears. The movements stopped, there was a scraping sound and finally the soft release of air. His warm palm grazed her thigh. She turned in that direction. His hand settled on her hip and blunt fingernails dug into her skin. Directing her movements, she felt the rough fabric of his jeans against the front of her thighs.
“Bend down, luv, lay across my knees.” He pushed at the small of her back and anticipation sizzled up her spine.
Ian helped her lower herself, her movement awkward from the way her wrists were tied. Daria’s breasts pressed down on one thigh, her nipples tingling from scrubbing over the material of his pants. Her hips rested on the other knee. His big palm rubbed one ass cheek then the other.
“Ohhhh.” She wiggled her hips.
“Like that?” He continued massaging her ass.
“Yesss.”
“I have dreamed of you like this, bowing to my demands. You are unbelievably sexy. Don’t move.” He stroked down and pushed a finger into her honey-pot. Daria flexed her hips. A sharp thwack exploded through the room. The sting of a slap on her ass rolled through her.
“I said don’t move, sweetness.” He soothed the spot he’d slapped.
Daria fought the urge to move, her sensitive nerve endings prickling. Ian pushed her legs farther apart and dipped two digits into her cleft. Bending over her, he dropped kisses along her spine. She turned toward him and felt two more slaps in quick secession.
“I told you to be still, baby.”
“Please.” She felt her cream collecting beneath her, wetting his pants leg.
“Please, what?” He caressed a path down her body from her shoulder to her ass and back.
“Please, I want to come.” Her request came out in short puffs.
Ian pushed two fingers into her body, up her pulsing channel. Thrusting his hand back and forth he added a third digit. “Ride my hand, luv.”
At his command Daria flexed her hips. Wet sucking sounds bounced off the walls of the partitions as he sawed his digits in and out of her throbbing pussy. Heat built in the pit of her belly. She flexed her hip, meeting his thrusts.
“Come for me, sweetness.” Ian pushed his thumb against her clit and flicked it.
“Ohhh.” Her back bowed, pushing her ass into the air. She felt the thwack of another slap to her butt-cheek, pushing her over the edge and into the abyss. Her orgasm rocked through her body in waves.
Daria fell limp in his lap.
Ian took the blindfold from her eyes first. She blinked several times to get her eyes to focus. Her arms jerked where he pulled the knot loose at her wrists. Freeing her hands, he pulled the tangled shirt from her arms. She pulled her arms away and they dropped at her sides from the numbness. Lying there she turned her head and placed her cheek on his thigh.
“That was wonderful. But you didn’t get any pleasure.”
“My pleasure came from your enjoyment.” He shifted and she felt the length of his erection under her stomach.
“Sorry, baby, but now it’s my turn.” She looked up and smiled at him.
Sliding to the floor, Daria rose to her knees between his legs. She reached out and unsnapped his jeans. As she lowered the zipper, his erection sprang free, the head of his cock bobbing before her. She held his gaze as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the small slit in his head. Flicking out her tongue she tasted the first drop of his cum. Easing back she rested on her legs and ran her tongue over her lips.
“You taste good.”
“Plenty more where that came from.” He laughed.
“No doubt.” She wrapped her fist around the base of his shaft.
Moving forward Daria sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. She watched as his hands held the chair arms in a white-knuckle grip when she bent her head to take his erection into her mouth. Sliding her tongue up and down his hard dick, she listened to the moans escaping from between his lips. Daria wrapped her tongue around his head and sucked hard. His hips bucked up from the chair and his hand gripped her ponytail, pushing her head lower. His hands slid over her shoulders. He pushed at her body, and his cock popped free of her mouth.
“I want to be in you the first time I come.” He stood, dropping his jeans and underwear.
“I thought you were commando?” She stared down at his boxers.
“Nope, just very happy to see you.” He fell into the seat and reached out, placing both hands on her hips and pulling her forward.
Daria acquiesced and put her knees on the sides of his thighs, sinking into the cool leather of the chair cushion. His sense of urgency motivated her to move faster. She looked down at the shaft jerking between them.
“Condom?” She raised her head to look at him.
“Wallet, back pocket. Jeans.”
She arched back, felt his hand grasp her waist when she twisted. Grabbing his jeans she dropped them when she felt him suck a hard nipple into his mouth. Daria tried again, and with shaky hands she reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet as he stroked her other breasts with his open palm. He released her orbs when she straightened. Handing him the money holder he opened and dug into the case. Pulling out the small gold foil package he handed it to her.
Smiling she ripped the packet open with her teeth. Rolling the thin rubber down his cock, Daria positioned herself over him and then lowered herself on his shaft in increments. Putting her elbows on his shoulders she pushed down. He thrust up, filling her completely. Lifting up, she dropped back down, taking his cock deep into her body. To steady herself she grabbed fistfuls of his soft hair. Holding her at the waist he controlled her pace and his head dropped back against the back of the seat as she rolled her hips. Leaning forward, Daria placed her lips against his. His tongue slipped into her mouth and tangled with hers. Her hands slid to the back of his head, pushing through the curls wrapping around her fingers.
His hands slipped around, fingering her ass, one digit rubbing at her rosebud. Daria’s moans were swallowed by his kiss. Electricity slithered through her as pressure built at the base of her spine. Her ass came off his lap as he pushed through her back door while she was still impaled by his cock. The dual penetration filling her body sent her over the edge. Coming down hard on his shaft with his finger buried deep in her ass, she arched her back and screamed. Her primal yell sent him over the edge. He ripped his mouth from hers and dropped his head, roaring into the nook where he throat met her shoulder. His arms quickly wrapped around her body and he held her through the quivers rocking through her body as he emptied himself into her.
“Damn.” She leaned forward and lay on his chest.
She felt his lips on her temple. “Yeah, that would sum it up.”
They both chuckled. In the background the beeps and whirs of the computer stopped and the ding of the elevator had them both raising their heads in that direction. Whistling reached her ears and she looked at Ian questioningly.
Daria stood looking around, staring at him with a raised brow. “Where are my clothes?”
He nodded toward a dark corner as she pulled the spent condom from his dick and dropped it in its packaging that she’d picked up off the floor. He pulled up his jeans and tucked in his shirt. Pushing the chair out of the way as he headed toward the CPU room, he turned back and winked at her. With a smile on her face, Daria watched his back as he disappeared into the darkness, her body still tingling from their lovemaking. Grabbing her clothes from the floor she went in the opposite direction to the other side on the large area.
****
Ian slipped into his seat, catching a breath when Juan bounded through the doorway. Ignoring the disturbance, Ian stared at the multiple computer monitors, making sure the computers all rebooted independently. Juan stepped up behind him, looking over his shoulder.
“All the computers have started up virus-free. I tried to reach you, but the phones kept ringing through to voicemail.” Juan tapped him on the back.
“I never heard the phone ring.” Ian reached over, digging through the bag he brought with him.
“Don’t worry about it. I also wanted to let you know I traced the worm back to its root.”
“Great! Who downloaded it?” Ian looked up at his friend.
“Martin Ritchie, Customer Care Manager.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. Send everyone home and leave me a list of names so I can authorize the overtime.” Ian swirled his chair around and watched as Juan circled the room looking around. “Anything else you need, Juan?”
“I was wondering where your administrative assistant was.”
Before he could answer Daria walked over the threshold.
“Hi.”
Ian and Juan both looked up. He was impressed by her quick change and glancing over at Juan, he motioned for the man to shut his mouth. His buddy’s mouth closed with an audible snap.
“Okay, Ian, I have flipped the call center over to India and left a message for Martin. I’m going to call it a night.” She smiled at Juan before turning around. “Good night. Have a pleasant weekend.”
Both men watched her walk away.
Clearing his throat, Ian stood. “I’ll let the boss know about Martin.”
“Yeah.” Juan’s gaze stared into the darkness. He looked away when the squeak of the door opening could be heard. “I’ll wait for you while you clean up.”
“Don’t worry about it, get out of here. You could still make your date.” Ian gently shoved his friend toward the door.
“Alright, I’ll see you Monday.”
His phone chimed while he watched his buddy leave. Turning around to disconnect his computers and gather his things he tapped the screen on his phone. Her message was waiting for him.
Want to type dirty with me? I’m waiting for the last bus. [Blackqueen77]
Forget the typing. Meet me in front of the building. I’ll pick you up and we can play dirty all weekend. Gimme 10. [Whiteknight1975]
LOL, I’ll be waiting. [Blackqueen77]
Ian heaved his bag on his shoulder, and instead of pressing the up button to drop everything off at his office, he pushed the down one.
The End
www.flavorfullove.com
Other Books by Kassanna:
Whip Me Real Good
Keep Me Satisfied
No Regrets
Tell Me, Touch Me, Feel Me
THE QUEEN OF HAPPY ENDINGS
Annalynne Russo
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
The Business Plan
For five long years, twenty-four year old Calliope Handler worked her fingers to the bone. Literally. A massage therapist at Bella Faccia, a pricey spa boutique in the Hollywood Hills, she spent her days serving two distinct groups of clientele. The working stiffs, who were nothing more than a bunch of wealthy, middle-aged sex addicts in search of a hot piece of ass to help whack them off on their lunch hour.
Laps dogs, the term Calliope used to describe her female patrons, sought her out for much the same reason. But while their male counterparts valued anonymity, the brandish antics of the women often came as a surprise. Horny housewives on the prowl for pussy, these pseudo-lesbians pushed the boundaries of sexual titillation. Little did their husbands know, these pampered princesses loved to lather in hot oil, then fondle their friends in the steamy Roman bath.
One indecent proposal turned into a dozen and soon, Calliope’s patience wore thin. At a measly fourteen dollars an hour plus tips, the constant poke and prod of her derrière no longer proved profitable. The time was ripe for change.
Fed up with it all, Calliope called Rick, her uppity, uber-rich boss and told him to take his job and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Five months later and still, she’d never regretted the decision. A few quirky clients from Bella Faccia followed her, chomping at the bit to be a part of her new business endeavor. At a hundred bucks a pop, Calliope could deal with their perverse idiosyncrasies on occasion.
Unfortunately, a handful of repeat customers weren’t enough to pay her rent. She thought about taking a desk job with a temp agency. Then, a couple of friends from massage therapy school suggested she work the rounds as a phone sex girl. That job lasted a record-breaking two hours. She sighed, rolling her green-gold eyes apathetically as she relived the unpleasant memory. Sprawled out on the leather sofa, strands of her burgundy-red tresses cascaded over the edge of the armrest. With long, lean legs and curvy, voluptuous hips, she stretched her limbs atop the smooth coolness of the cushions. Her gaze was glued to the flat-screen television, as she tried her darnedest to ignore the guttural moans of some old geezer on the other end of the receiver.
What a freakin’ train wreck that turned out to be! Calliope knew it would never last. She craved manual stimulation way too much. She couldn’t fathom having to stifle her need to feel bare flesh against her fingertips. Besides, she’d already racked up thousands of dollars in student loan debt. How could she not use all the resources at her disposal to remain gainfully employed in her career of choice? Easier said than done. If Calliope wanted to make ends meet as a massage therapist, she had to step up her game. Grow some balls. Or at the very least, think like a man.
Guys had a knack for manipulating any given situation to their advantage. Just look at all the assholes that had played her for a fool. How many times had she fallen head over heels for a commitment-phobic son of a bitch? Or God forbid, a married man? It was time for her to turn the tables on those womanizing bastards once and for all.
Research turned out to be her greatest ally. After Googling the words ‘sensual massage, Hollywood,’ Calliope finally hit the bull’s eye. Craigslist. She perused the services section of the website. Before long, she found a faction of hot, young co-eds in provocative posts, offering everything from so-called platonic companionship to all-out submissive servitude. There was even a hard-bodied nineteen-year-old hunk, bartering blow jobs in exchange for donations to cover the cost of textbooks. If college students could successfully sell sex, then surely, Calliope could put her talented appendages to work in order to turn a profit.
Over the next few days, Calliope let the idea of peddling her wares in cyberspace stew around in her mind. But with so many details to work out in order to make the endeavor enticing to the average male Neanderthal, she needed someone to bounce her ideas off of. Who else, other than her best friend/roommate, could she trust with such a hair-brained business proposition?
Calliope had known Beau Jameson since high school. He was a transplant from Kentucky with southern boy charm and raw sex appeal. His shaggy blond hair and golden-brown tan fit in well with the rest of the California surfer wannabes from the San Fernando Valley. Good looks aside, Beau’s loud, obnoxi
ous behavior was something no girl that had attended Summit High School could stomach. In no time at all, he became notorious for trying to cop a feel from the innocent, unsuspecting underclassmen that happened to cross his path. If that wasn’t degrading enough, he often followed it up with a cringe-inducing cattle call that scared off even the most desperate, attention-seeking heifers. Thanks to Beau’s unique form of down-home country cajolery, the term southern gentleman had taken on a whole new meaning.
While the rest of the student body bought Beau’s act, Calliope had easily seen through the façade. Something about his behavior didn’t quite mesh. His harassment of the opposite sex was too blatant. Too forced. Almost as if he had had to work double time so he could prove his masculinity to others. Or possibly, to himself.
Well into their freshman year in college, Beau had played his role to the “T,” seducing women at every turn. Hell, he had even tried to get inside Calliope’s panties a time or two. It wasn’t until one alcohol-fueled confession that the Kentucky Casanova, as she often referred to him, had conquered his demons.
In a last ditch effort to certify his manhood, Beau had come on to Calliope again. As he moved closer, his mouth only inches from her lips, his whiskey-infused breath drifted past her nose. When he went in for the kiss, the stagnant smell of alcohol, coupled with the fact that she hadn’t eaten dinner before she started drinking, made her stomach lurch. Calliope turned away, afraid she’d vomit in his mouth if she didn’t.
That night, the combination of alcohol and rejection had pushed Beau over the edge. But it also helped him come to grips with his deepest, darkest fear. He had a hankering for hot, hunky shlong.
“Women just don’t do it for me anymore, darlin’,” he said. “I’ve sampled every texture and flavor of the feminine fruit, yet none can rev my motor more than a rock-hard, one-eyed Willy.”
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