"
I'll
know. It's not professional."
"Lock the door." He repeated, the order a low, dangerous hiss that she found herself obeying with shaking hands.
His lips were hot and moist on the side of her neck, and she swept her hair to the side presenting no obstructions in the way of his wonderful mouth.
He ran his hands on her sides feeling her up from ribcage to thighs, up and down, then up again...slowly, deliberately...slithering down thoroughly, hypnotically, settling on her hips for a few heartbeats, "How can a woman be so impossibly tiny, yet so perfectly curved?" he whispered in her ear spanning her small waist with his hands as if to see if his fingers would meet -and they almost did, "Your ass is pure magic." His hands roamed lower again caressing her hips and ass boldly like he owned her. The thought disturbed her; she didn't want to belong to anyone. Not in that way. People always disappointed her. The only one who's always been there for her, dependable, non-judgmental, and well-versed in her deepest thoughts was herself. The fact that he murmured, "All mine" while stroking her firm derriere in circles, added to her anxiety.
"I workout, that's why." She said dryly, her voice a scratch against his smooth petting. She placed her hands on his giving him a chastising squeeze, "And I'm not yours."
Relentless and incorrigible, he pressed her against him with a big hand on her stomach, "When you're with me, you are."
"Right." She infused as much irritation in her tone as possible, but her body was winning over her mind. Sanity was slipping, the whole
I'll-worry-about-fixing-this-later
warped concept -which was foreign to her strict way of thinking and planning- presented itself as the most viable option.
"There isn't much we can do here without messing up the place, Marc." She managed to turn in his arms and hold his face with both hands, "You'll have to be discreet without sacrificing any of your skills."
Even in high heels, he towered over her 5'9" frame, and she had to rise on tiptoes to kiss his sensuous mouth. That chocolate-minty taste that she now associated with him, made her smile into the kiss. She was sucking on his lower lip noisily when she imagined him keeping a stash of
Andes
mints handy, maybe on a chubby chef-shaped ceramic jar on his kitchen table. The imagery made her giggle.
"What is it?" his inquisitive eyes had a trace of humor when they searched hers questioningly, "You should know better than to laugh at a guy when he's trying to impress you."
"It's not that," she gave him a dozen quick pecks on his delicious mouth before saying, "Your kisses taste like Christmas."
"Christmas is-"He started, but she kissed him again lingeringly cutting off his reply.
He was hard, broad, and beautifully angled everywhere. The appreciation she had earlier for his ability to bring together his navy trousers and camel blazer in a refreshing utilization of suit separates, was now transforming into frustration with the fact that he was dressed so formally, that there were a lot of clothing items between her and his bare skin. They had very limited time, and a lot of layers between them.
"I have thirty-nine minutes." She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, kissing his chin and mouth, and that soft area between his cupid-bow and nose. This was her first time to see him -to
feel
him clean shaven. The smooth texture of his skin contrasted with his sharp, masculine edge.
She traced her fingertips along the square of his jaw where his skin stretch tautly when he smiled down at her, "I can make you come at least three times in thirty-nine minutes with time to spare."
Her eyes were riveted to his face. He looked so handsome and clean-cut in the daylight her large office windows provided. His wide smile would've seemed wholesome had it not been for the teasing quality of it that paired perfectly with his salacious suggestions.
She noticed, for the first time, how long his light golden lashes were, how the straight slashes of his eyebrows were darker where they started, their color gradient, as the ends were a lighter blond "So you think you're
that
good?"
"I rely heavily on the adequacy of my talents, so yes, ma'am."
"Don't call me "ma'am"." She chucked him lightly on the chin and sent her other hand to inspect his crotch, to be rewarded with a big hard erection that pressed defiantly against his slacks' zipper. He groaned at the feel of her hand, fidgeting his left leg uneasily. She cupped him, stroking up and down his hard length, and relishing his response and the sight of his lashes touching the tops of his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes shut and swore.
"You're hard already." She crooned, "So hot, so thick," slipping her fingers lower to caress his balls through his pants and boxer briefs, she bounced them lightly, "So full of cum for me."
Eyes still closed, his mouth quirked to the side and he breathed, "Yes, ma'am."
"Cheeky!" she squeezed his testicles tighter making him groan and shift his legs again, "Jesus, don't...I won't be able to hold it if you..." he swallowed and opened his eyes trying to pin her with his intense gaze, but she pushed further, "Don't call me "ma'am"," she palmed his balls expertly, "it makes me feel old and matronly."
"
Matronly!
" he coughed a strangled chuckle, "Lady, you're the furthest thing from matronly!"
"Lady?" she walked him back towards her desk, guiding him by the crotch until the back of his thighs bumped the wooden edge.
There was a lopsided grin on his face, "Why not?"
His belt buckle came off with a flick of her fingers, followed by the button, then the fly, and she went down to her knees hitting the carpet as the zipper slider hit the bottom of his pants' crotch line.
There was a damp spot on the front of his white boxer briefs, and she glanced up at him momentarily before letting her lids fall closed as she put her lips to the convex notch his glans made against his briefs. He groaned, she sucked, knowing that the cotton fabric adding to sensation her mouth caused, and she let her tongue seek out the details of the tip of his cock, his frenulum, the round edges of the mushroom head, and the slit that leaked copious precome.
Hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her back so that she looked up at him, and rasped, "That's not what I had in mind, Jillian." But she touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip pulling his underwear down, and freeing his cock that flapped up, lissomly bouncing up until she grasped it in her hand, "You don't want this?" she squeezed the tip milking more precome out of it then wiped it on her lips like lip-gloss.
Marc's hand tightened in her hair, "Jesus!"
She fought a triumphant smile and ran her tongue on her lips taking his taste into her mouth, smacked her lips together, then kissed his cock, "You don't like it when I do this?" she cajoled kissing the thick, throbbing vein that ran along the lower side of his dick.
"You know very well that I do," he pulled at her hair a tad harder than before, and she felt her scalp sting in several places. A small wince escaped her lips involuntarily, and his grip lessened perceptibly as he stared down at her with unreadable, flaming blue eyes before barking, "Get up."
He kept his hand in her hair when she rose up slowly, clumsily standing in front of him on wobbly legs with a chary, uncertain look in her eyes, "What are you going to do?" her timid voice sounded enticing even to her own ears, and she cleared her throat, "Marc?"
His answer was a fierce kiss that surprised her into gasping, but he didn't heed her surprise using it as an advantage to plunder her mouth avariciously feeding on her with a growl stuck in the back of his throat. His hand soothed her abused scalp gently, blunt fingertips twirling in circles around the roots of her hair and making her want to purr at the contrast between his fierce kiss and tender touch.
Putting her own fingers to use, Jillian tore at the buttons of his shirt without bothering with his tie, and rested her hands on his lightly furred chest that expanded in a deep sigh at her touch. For a man, he was extremely graceful, for a man of his athletic build and big frame, he needed a new word put in the dictionary to describe his agility as he danced her around until she was seated on her desk top with her dress around her waist.
He paused briefly to unbutton his cuffs, and roll up his sleeves, but didn't waste an extra moment to take it completely off, dropping to the floor in front of her.
"For all the times you did this for me, Jill." He declared cupping her knees and parting them before he edged closer and closer until her thighs straddled him.
Something pinched her heart, an alien emotion that she was too scared to dwell upon, so she didn't -she wouldn't go
there
for him...for
anyone
. She took in his smiling face between her legs, hair blond as wheat in the sun, crisp and ready for harvest...
don't go there
, her mind warned when she plunged her fingers in his hair, clenching and unclenching them amongst the burnished gold locks.
He winked at her before turning to her left thigh, his lips connecting with her soft skin in a tenuous, aerial little kiss that developed when he parted his lips to suck at her inner thigh sharply.
Jillian gasped, slipping slightly off the glass top that covered her desk, and placed her hands on both sides bracing herself up. Mindless of her precarious position, he turned to her right thigh leaving another wet love bite on it, and it hit her that he was marking her. His kisses went beyond affection, or wanting to sample her taste; he was leaving his stamp on places only
she
would see and know who was there claiming her as
his
. She wanted to tell him to stop or to feel impervious to having him sign his work -so to speak- but it was all a part of the
Pleasure Package
that was Marc's specialty.
