Instantly, I’m hard. No slow trip south. Just blood, gone from my head and straight to my cock. Her crossed legs in that pencil skirt aren’t helping the cause either.
“Come here.”
I grab her wrist and haul her up. The leather sofa is at the far wall, facing away from the glass, and I walk her there with single-minded intent. I sit first. My fingers find the zipper of her tight skirt and drag it down. Then she’s in nothing but the matching top and a lacy black thong so thin it’s see-through and clinging to her wet slit. I need to slow down. Take a moment to just look, but my hands are already moving faster than my head.
I pull her down onto my lap. She swings one leg over to straddle me; I get both hands on her face, and I kiss her.
My hand drops between her legs. I shove the lace aside and touch her cunt. Her folds are slippery and swollen, her clit’s a pebble in my fingertips. I drag two fingers, slow and steady, spreading her wetness around while I keep my mouth fused to hers. I do the same thing. Lazy tease. My tongue probes her mouth, circling, matching the same unhurried rhythm my fingers are working between her thighs. The wet sounds are audible, and she pushes into it, hips rolling to meet my hand.
“You better pick up the pace.” The words come out muffled.
I deepen the kiss. She matches it, her fingers pressing into my shoulders. My hand keeps the same pace. Slow side-to-side. Unhurried drag up and back down through her folds. I gather the wetness on my fingers and smear her clit with it. I circle again. Taking my time. Making her feel every second of the wait.
She exhales sharp through her nose. “I don’t have the whole day.”
Her free hand shoots to my neck, then my head, gripping the back of my skull and pulls. Demanding.
I give her more. Tighten the circles, move faster, rubbing the swollen little nub until her hips start to buck, chasing friction she can’t control. The smell of her cunt rises between us.
“Kai,” she moans, and I use my free hand to work open the first button of her blouse. Then the second. The third. I pull the cup of her bra aside and close my mouth over her nipple, sucking it against the roof of my mouth and flicking it with my tongue. I graze it with my teeth until she whines.
Her chest rises and falls. Her head tips back.
“This is not what I want,” she says, but her cunt is telling a different story. It’s gripping my fingers, pulsing, desperate to be filled.
I fish my cock out of the elastic waistband, drag her lace to the side some more, and notch the head at her entrance. She’s already dripping on my tip, slicking the head with clear, stickyjuice. I look down between us, watch my cock split her open, her hairless folds stretching wide around the head as I thrust up and bury every inch.
This is the position she swears she can’t finish in. Diana needs to be fucked from behind. But now her hands brace on my shoulders, and she takes me, meeting every thrust.
Once. Twice, I thrust until I find the rhythm, and she finds it too, her hips rolling to meet mine, grinding her clit against my pelvis every time she descends. For someone who doesn’t like this angle, she sure is drenching my lap, her wetness running down my cock and onto my balls.
Her tits bounce in front of me and I chase them. Tongue, mouth, teeth grazing the nipples, their soft, heavy weight, while she makes a sound low in her throat. I thrust again, cock spearing up, hitting deep, the wet sound slurping on every upstroke. Her lips drag along my shaft, gripping the ridge of my head every time I pull back.
The sound of skin slapping skin, but it’s nowhere near the rough she likes. Nowhere near the blunt, overwhelming pressure she reaches for when she needs to shut her head off. The place she goes where there’s no room for thought, no room to feel anything except the physical.
“Kai, ahh… more.” She swallows. “Please more.”
I grip her hips tighter and I look at her. Bouncing, matching my rhythm, rolling to meet every upward thrust and chasing what she knows I’m withholding. I can feel it in her body. The small, restless roll. The impatience in her thighs. The way her weight tips forward, begging for harder use.
I give her the same pace. Medium. Controlled.
“K-kai.” Her voice cracks. “Flip me already.”
Her hands are on my shoulders, but she’s not directing. Not the way she usually does. Her words are starting to slip, too.
I keep going. I piston up into her, watching her face fall apart.
Her breath comes in short, clipped bursts. Her hips are moving faster than mine, trying to force the pace, fucking herself on my cock. Her thighs are shaking. Her hands on my biceps have gone tight, nails digging into my skin, breaking it.
“I’ll give you hard after you come this way,” I tell her.
“Ahh… ahh…” And then she’s there, her cunt choking my cock, squeezing in rhythmic spasms. A rush of warm, runny liquid gushes out from where we’re joined. It pools in my lap, droplets hitting my forearms, my lower abs. The smell fills the air, sweet and floral and so fucking addictive I want to bottle it.
Her legs shake. Her eyes have gone glassy, and without waiting for more, I haul her up and flip her over the armrest. The strip of lace pulls taut against her hip. From behind, I see both holes still fluttering, shiny and slick with cum and squirt, blinking open and shut, begging to be filled again.
I line my cock up and slam in to the root. Hard. Fast. No more patience. No more withholding.
I pump and pump and pump with no mercy and no pause. She’s so swollen and sensitive that the drag of my cock through her makes her jerk and squeal, but I don’t slow down. I grind deeper, chasing the way her cunt keeps trying to clamp down and push me out.