by Elaria Ride
Oh. I still for a moment.
He thinks I’m worried about professionalism, of all things? I shake my head. I would laugh, if that weren’t so profoundly wrong. Finn is blabbing out some attempt at an apology, but I only catch the tail end as I come back into focus.
“And I’m sorry,” he continues, his voice ringing with sincerity, “I’m so sorry. If you want to quit right now, I don’t blame you. I’ll even cover your pay for the next few months, until—”
I sigh. No… he’s too sweet. I won’t let him take the fall for this.
“— Finn,” I say sharply, cutting off his verbal deterioration.
He snaps his jaw shut, clearly a bit confused.
“I’m attracted to you too,” I allow gently, picking at a fleck of lint on my pants. “And that isn’t why I pulled away.”
I glance back up at him and he’s giving me that same perplexed look as before. “Then why—”
“I’m divorced,” I say quickly, silencing him. I draw a deep breath; I’ve always been an all-cards-on-the-table kind of girl, and the present time is no exception.
“I’m a fat, divorced single mom,” I elaborate, meeting him with a plain stare. “And my ex-husband is a complete asshole. I caught his secretary blowing him in his office, and…I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” I confess in a rush, looking down again.
He doesn’t say anything, though. So I plow on.
“I really would have enjoyed whatever happened,” I continue, fiddling with my rings. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you, to make you think a normal hookup might work, if —”
He cuts me off as his warm lips descend on mine. Shit. I whimper— actually whimper! — into his mouth as his tongue darts out to caress mine, as he threads his hair through the curls at the base of my neck. I must’ve been so caught up in explaining that I hadn’t even noticed him striding around the desk, but now he’s cradling me softly against his lean form…
He presses searing kisses across my jaw until he finally reaches a pounding pulse point in my neck. He sucks gently, swirling my skin around his tongue, and it’s not until I release a breathy moan that I realize how much of a goner I am.
“Marina,” he whispers, continuing his languorous trail up and down my neck.
“Mmm?” I tilt my head for better access, my eyes fluttering shut. Any thoughts of shutting this down, of not being with him, have all but disappeared; he knows my baggage now.
There’s not much I can feel guilty for.
“I don’t care about any of that,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. I cock my head quizzically. Well, that’s not what I expected…
He gives an award chuckle and pulls away from me with what looks like superhuman strength.
“Actually,” he says, swallowing. “I know…a lot about you. From Sylvie.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets as a sheepish smile spreads across his face. On anyone else, I would have considered his behavior kinda creepy — the fact that he’d asked about me and watched me today.
But on Finn? It’s…genuine. He has one of those boyish, all-American faces, one filled with an authenticity I don’t question.
And in spite of what I should do — in spite of everything I’ve been through — I believe him. I stare at Finn for a full ten seconds, my breath coming heavily in my chest, before I shoot him a seductive wink.
I have one last thought as I stride Finn around his desk and shove him down in his chair.
I deserve this.
2
Finn
If I’d woken up this morning knowing that I’d be getting a lap dance from the sexiest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met — the one I’ve been fantasizing about since I first saw her a few months ago — I probably would have planned my underwear choices a little better.
But as it stands, I don’t have many options: Marina has already shoved me down in my chair with her deft little fingers. She’s surprisingly strong for someone who can’t be taller than 5’3”.
“Just relax,” she purrs, giving me a salacious wink before turning around and rubbing that huge ass all over my crotch.
Fuck.
I grunt from deep in my throat as I feel those satiny, jean-clad cheeks start to slide up and down my hard length. Her ass is perfect — absolutely, completely perfect, so perfect that I’m not even sure if she knows how lovely it is. It has that perfect C shape from the side, and it’s filled out beautifully in the spaces between.
In other words, she has the type of ass I’ve been fantasizing about since I knew those existed in the first place.
I know how crazy this is. I know we just met… or at least that Marina has just met me; I’ve been rather well-acquainted with her for quite some time. I know that this could easily get me fired, if not sued.
But something about this girl brings out this different side of me, a side of me that blurts out every single dirty thought the second it crosses my mind.
“I love your ass,” I manage between clenched teeth as she begins to rock herself in earnest against me. She giggles and grinds even harder.
Shit. This is torture — the best, most delicious kind of torture.
“I’m glad you like it,” she says from over her shoulder, and the angle allows me to see that her breasts are now heaving up and down as she moves.
Fuck… her tits. I groan again. They’re big and bouncing, almost disproportionately large for her tiny frame, and the thought of actually seeing them makes me even harder. My erection’s becoming downright painful, but I suppose that’s a natural progression of things when you get a full-staff from a first kiss.
By now, of course, I’m rock hard — so hard that she has to know, has to be able to feel that.
Almost like she’s capable of reading my filthy thoughts, Marina grins at me, even as her ass continues to gyrate. “I’m guessing that not a bottle of wine in your pants, Mr. Bosco?”
I bark out a laugh as best I can, even though most of my energies are concentrated elsewhere.
“No,” I confirm, swallowing. “I just happen to have a thing for beautiful girls with perfect asses—” My voice pitches up on the end as she hits a particularly sensitive spot, the area just under my cock.
She pauses and shoots me a devilish wink.
Fuck. She found me out.
“Did you like that, Finn?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
Why is it turning me on so much that she wants to play these games?
I sigh and accept defeat. She must’ve already figured out that I’m the type of guy who likes a lady on top… the type of guy who loves watching curves in motion from their place above me, especially if ever I get a chance to worship those breasts she’s been teasing me with.
Without a second thought, I know what I need to do: submit.
So hell yeah, I’ll play her games! I’ve only been thinking about her while I masturbate for the past three months, after all…
But she’s growing tired of my lack of response, even as my brain is whirring into overdrive. Well, what is it they always say? Men aren’t great at multi-tasking…
“Finn,” she says sharply, sucking her teeth. “Did you ever hear my goddamn question?”
She whips her head around to look at me from where she’s perched on my thighs, and I’m delighted by the look of mock outrage splashed across her face.
Fuck, she’s so hot. All I can do is grunt and reach my hands up to bring her ass back down to my crotch, hoping that serves as enough of an answer.
I’ve seemingly forgotten, however, that Marina isn’t the type who plays games — not when they aren’t on her terms.
I really shouldn’t be surprised when she reproachfully slaps my hands away. “No.”
I swallow, torn between being terrified and turned on; I settle for a mixture of the two.
“You’re going to come my way,” she emphasizes, grinding her ass against my crotch — against the sensitive spot she’d just discovered, “or you won’t do it at all.”
>
I moan again and drop my hands in defeat.
Yes… she’s made it clear that all I can do is allow her to work. I need to resist the urge to reach out and touch and grip and squeeze that perfect ass, even though I want to more than I’ve ever wanted to touch anything in my life.
After a few more minutes of rubbing and grinding and sliding against me (which she’s punctuated through a few purrs and moans of her own) she has me panting and straining beneath her. She has to know I’m putty in her hands, with a cock so hard that I’m ready to pop off at any second, consequences be damned.
My jeans have started to give me a little bit of rug burn from the friction, but fuck, I couldn’t possibly care less… I’m groaning from deep in my throat with every pass of her hips, but I’m so turned on that I can’t find it in myself to be embarrassed, not even a little.
What I do care about, though, is the fact that coming in my pants will be a little inconvenient — at the very least. I still need to be here for the rest of the day, and I’m so behind on work at this point that it’ll be way past dark by the time I’m able to head home.
Is there even a chance she’d let me get out of my jeans before I make the biggest mess of my life? It’s worth a shot, I suppose…pun most certainly intended.
“Marina,” I grit, so close to the edge that I’m afraid one more pass will tip me over. “Please. Let me get out of my pants before —”
She cuts me off by reaching around and grasping my chin between her hands. “No,” she hisses fiercely, even as the movement of her ass betrays the seriousness of her tone. I gasp as she continues thrusting, and I know I’m right there, just around the corner… she’s all I’m waiting for…
A second later, her deep brown eyes penetrate mine.
And it’s all over.
She grips my chin even harder, her chest heaving.
“Come now,” she commands, and, fuck, if she doesn’t have some sort of magnetic pull on my cock; as soon as the words leave her mouth, I feel my balls tighten as a wave of pleasure washes over me.
“Maaarrrinaaa,” I moan hoarsely, drawing out her name into seven syllables as my cock twitches with abandon. I thrust my hips frantically as I feel ropes and ropes of cum spurt out of my pounding dick; it’s pressed tightly against her jeans, so tightly that I’m unable to stop myself from humping her ass like a horny teenager, from crying out in the ecstasy of my release.
After what feels like an eternity — but was probably only about thirty seconds of sheer, unadulterated bliss — I finally lean back in my seat with an exhausted groan. My eyes are slammed shut, but I eventually feel Marina rise from my lap, extricating herself with as much dignity as she can muster given the current circumstance.
She doesn’t interrupt me as my breathing returns to normal — for which I’m quite thankful. I’m not sure I’d be capable of forming a coherent thought right now, much less a sentence.
When I finally crack open an eyelid, I find her perched on the corner of my desk, a saucy grin crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Well,” she says, gesturing to my crotch. “Looks like you have a mess to take care of.”
I glance down at my fly to see that (predictably) an enormous wet spot has pooled across the crotch of my jeans. And shit… I pick absentmindedly at my shirt, only to realize that I’ve come so much — and so hard — that it’s leaked through the bottom of that, too.
I groan in mortification, slamming my head against the seat.
She giggles from her seat on the desk. It seems she’s taken almost as much pleasure in this as I had.
My face burns as I bow my head to stare at the intricate pattern adorning the carpet. Being embarrassed is a normal reaction, I know; after all, I’ve just popped off in my pants from a girl who has barely touched me.
But fuck… can you blame me?
My eyes trail up from the floor and take in the way her legs dangle on the side of the desk. I love the caramel color of her skin, the cute little muffin top extending above her waist, the ample cleavage spilling out of her winery tee — one that I’m sure would look strictly regulation on a girl with fewer curves.
But Marina does’t have fewer curves.
Because she’s perfect.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt as our eyes finally meet. She only releases that melodic laugh, but it’s not a mean or condescending sound. It’s almost like she’s simply proud.
None of this means I’m not horrified by what I’ve just done, of course.
“I’m sorry… about all this,” I mutter, picking at the fabric of my shirt. “I promise that under normal circumstances, I last much longer.”
She giggles again and shoots me a wink. “I’ll be the judge of that one, thanks.”
Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total idiot.
“Sure!” I scramble to my feet and take two steps to where she’s still sitting on the desk. She peers up at me through those thick, dark lashes, and I freeze, my breath hitching in my throat. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly paralyzed, stock-still, incapable of making another move.
It occurs to me that I’ve never been this eager to prove myself — to anyone. It’s a bit of a sobering thought, one so profound that I find myself pausing a little to adjust the sticky front of my flannel against my skin, just for the distraction.
But Marina just laughs from her perch on the desk, clearly oblivious to the feelings thundering through my chest.
“I didn’t mean now,” she says playfully, swatting me on the arm. “Why don’t we do this another time?”
What?
I stare at her, confused.
She can’t be serious. She just made me come — something she didn’t have to do, not even a little. I shake my head.
“Well, I don’t know who you’ve been with,” I say pointedly, leaning in closer. “But it’s not ok — not with me, anyway — if you don’t get to come, too.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with a kiss, gripping her firmly as I begin to slide her down against the desk.
No… she might’ve been treated like shit before, but that familiar stirring of male pride tells me I’ll never, ever let her be treated like that again.
She moans as I rest my large palm above the curve of her ass. I smile, just to myself; luckily she’s ready to be a little submissive — at least when it matters. I press soft kisses down her neck, taking my time to suck on the pulse points that she reacts to the strongest.
“Yesss,” she hisses as I nibble right behind her ear.
My face splits into a satisfied grin. Finally. Maybe now, I’ll actually get the chance to show her she deserves to be worshipped.
I shift us both, scooting her up so that her back is flush with the desk. I continue working on that specific spot, and now she’s panting and moaning.
I move my mouth down to other parts of her body, anxious to see what those glorious breasts look like out of that winery shirt… fuck, she’s hot, so so hot, that I feel my cock rising in my pants again, even through the mess I’ve just made in them.
And I’m just reaching my hand down underneath her shirt, just about to feel for the first time what I’ve wanted to feel for months…
When we are interrupted.
Painfully.
Loudly.
Because— right then, right there — someone slams the door open.
Marina squeals in horror as I utter a muffled curse. I instinctively throw myself on top of her to cover any parts that might be… exposed… before angrily darting my head up at the door, ready to give this damn intruder a piece of my mind. Outrage and fear and frustration are all boiling inside me, threatening to spill over.
Fortunately for me, I realize almost immediately that the situation isn’t nearly as serious as it seems.
“Ohhh,” I sigh. Cold waves of relief permeate through my chest — because thank God. “It’s you.”
I shake my head and help Marina to her feet, and the two of us finally turn ar
ound until we are face-to-face with my sister.
I glare at her. It would be perfectly fitting for her to just barge in without giving any warning whatsoever.
In true Sylvie fashion, she’s not the least bit embarrassed by what she’s just walked into. In fact, she looks rather proud, and just stands there with a knowing grin as Marina and I complete last-minute wardrobe adjustments. But Marina doesn’t follow my lead, even though her shirt is still bunched up. Instead, she just shoots me a wide-eyed, horrified look from over her shoulder and shifts to stand in front of me.
I furrow my brow, confused, but then I look down at my crotch and realize why.
Shit shit shit. Evidence of our recent activities is most certainly apparent, even from as far away as Sylvie is.
I clear my throat, suddenly more annoyed than anything.
Why the hell should I have to hide this, anyway? We’re consenting adults in the privacy of an office!
“Can I help you?” I ask, still glaring at my little brat of a sister. She’s continuing to glance around curiously, almost like she owns the damn place.
Which she doesn’t — not this location, anyway.
“Hey Sylvie,” Marina mutters, staring at the floor.
The sound of her own name distracts Sylvie from her gradual intake of the objects in my office, and she whips her head in our direction. A grin has now spread so widely across her face that it crinkles the corners of her eyes.
“Hi, Marina!” Sylvie beams.
I groan internally. I guess this dashes any hope of her not sharing the details of the reason for Marina’s transfer to this new location.
“Nice to see that the two of you are… hitting it off.”
“Yes,” I snap at her. “We are clearly hitting it off. Was there anything you needed, or…?”
“Well, actually,” Sylvie says, affording us tiny bit of privacy by closing the door. “I was just stopping by to see if you wanted to get lunch — and to ask how well Marina is settling in.”
