He leaned over my shoulder and I could just barely smell his body wash, something young and enticing—mint mixed with musk. It made me want to rest my head against his chest and breathe him in. But I kept my eyes focused on the stack of paperwork in front of me.
“I’m almost done,” I said, “Then we can go watch TV.”
He breathed deeply in reply, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin on my neck. He leaned forward again, the scruff of his beard brushing the tender spot between my neck and collarbone.
“Okay,” he whispered playfully, his hands finding their way to my tense shoulders and beginning to massage. “I guess I’ll let you finish first.”
I tried to focus on the paper in front of me, but the numbers were becoming blurred as I gave into his touch. It was like all the tension from my long day of work was traveling out of my shoulders and into his hands.
I closed my eyes, imagining the veins in his arms. Those fucking sexy veins. I had tried for weeks now to stop tracing over those veins with my eyes, stop picturing those hands on me. We were friends. Nothing like that could happen.
Still I could feel the sexual tension in the air. It was strong, palpable.
He hesitated for a moment and I wondered what he was thinking. We hadn’t done anything yet, just harmless flirting here and there, but nothing concrete.
Even though we both knew we wanted it.
His fingers slid slowly up the base of my neck, pressing slightly at the vein that was pulsing with anticipation. “Mhmm,” he sighed. “I guess I’ll leave you alone.”
His voice was thick and it sent goosebumps from my neck down to my legs. It was fucking insane how just his voice could do that to me. I closed my eyes then opened them again, forcing myself to look at the paper in front of me. He pressed his chin into my neck again, then slowly moved upward, scratching me softly with his beard.
Fuck it. I wasn’t going to get anything done.
I leaned into him and felt him stiffen. This was the moment. It was either happening or it wasn’t. I wished, again, that I could read his thoughts. The thoughts in my own head were so loud I swear he could hear them.
His hands shifted forward again, tracing over my collarbone. He slid one finger underneath the hem of my shirt, making my body flush warm. Then he began to alternate between touching me gently and pressing his fingers hard into my skin. The sensation was driving me crazy. I could feel my clit start to throb in anticipation.
His hands paused on my chin, tracing my jaw line, then slowly turning me around to face him. His eyes were low, almost dream-like. So fucking sexy.
He tilted my face to his and kissed me softly. I swear it was like my lips melted into his, like our bodies knew each other. We became urgent. He lifted me from the chair and thrust my body into his. My hands pulled his hair; I dug my fingernails into the warm skin of his back. He grabbed at my arms, my neck, my breasts. Every touch filled me with more and more pleasure.
I wanted him. I needed him.
We kissed hard then soft, slow then deep. I felt like I could hardly catch my breath and my knees felt weak as I leaned into him. He was hard. So hard. Through his gym shorts I could feel all of him, even bigger than I ever imagined.
aHe was ready too.
He led me to his bedroom, lips still locked on mine. Even when he turned around to shut the door he pulled me with him, unable to let go. I didn’t want him to.
He spun me around and slowly moved my hair from the nape of my neck. His hands traveled over my shoulders, my breasts, and my arms until they reached the hem of my skirt. I took a deep breath. Every cell in my body was pulsing and I could feel that I was already soaking through my thong. God I wanted him.
He squeezed my hips, my ass, then slowly pulled my shirt over my head, running his hands over every inch of my bare skin. I was wearing a lace bralette and he took his time admiring it, slipping his fingers under the straps and moving the thin fabric aside to playfully flick my nipples.
I reached for him, grabbing his arms, digging my fingernails into his skin. He was taking too long. I wanted him now. He squeezed my breasts again, then lifted my bralette over my head and moved to my skirt. It was almost painful, waiting as he slowly unzipped the back, taking his time to slide his fingers over my thong and touch me through the fabric.
I grabbed his face, kissing him urgently and he gave in. I stepped out of my shorts and thong, and turned to face him, grabbing at his shirt and pulling it over his head. In an instant, we were both naked and warm, our bodies flush against one another, his erection pressed into me.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, firm and serious now. I did as I was told.
He lifted me to the bed and wiggled down, sliding his tongue inside me. I gasped. I was soaking wet. And his tongue felt amazing.
He alternated between his tongue and his fingers, gliding both in and out, fast then slow, licking my clit and pressing deep into me, a mix of intense pleasure. I grabbed at his shoulders, moaning in delight. With every moan he went deeper, more urgent. My body was throbbing, desiring him with every inch of me.
“I want you,” I moaned. He murmured in response, vibrating my clit. It felt fucking heavenly. He slid his fingers in again, even deeper this time. Then shifted so that our bodies were matched again. I could feel him, so hard against my inner thigh. I leaned forward but he pushed my body back then slid into me
The sensation was incredible. The fullness of him. His hands squeezing my breasts. His body thrusting into mine. Our bodies beginning to rock in rhythm.
“Mhmm…” he moaned, pushing deeper. I grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to me so I could feel his chest against mine, his beard against my cheek. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kissed me. We fell into rhythm, fast and slow, each thrust going deeper, making my back arch with pleasure.
When he commanded me to hold onto him, I did, and we flipped over, me on top. I thrust my hips back and forth, letting him slide all the way out of me then back in, quick then slow, watching his eyes roll back with pleasure, feeling his hands grab me hard enough to leave bruises.
We fucked for hours, rolling around, pulling hair, grabbing breasts and ass and shoulders and backs and skin. I rode him until he came then he thrust into me while fingering my clit until I did too, a beautiful climax of screams and scratches and bliss.
When we were finished, he kissed me again, then pulled me to his chest.
“I don’t know what the fuck just happened,” he murmured into my hair, pushing a loose strand away from my face, “But damn. That was good.”