Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
But yet again, he surprises me.
He gives a grunt of a goodbye to the camera the very second the meeting is wrapping up, and shoves his chair away from the desk, glowering at me like I’m a cheap slutty bitch, there without his approval.
“Have you any idea how many times you nearly trashed my fucking performance?” he asks, and I love the malicious edge to his tone.
He wanted the siren, I’ll give him the siren. I nod, proudly, keeping my eyes nice and wide.
“Yes. I felt it. You were going to come in my mouth, weren’t you?”
“Only because you’re too much of a slut to leave me alone.”
“You’re too irresistible to keep my slutty mouth away from, Sir. I’ve been planning this for weeks.”
“Right on the fucking budget period?”
“Yes, Sir, right on the budget period. How else was I going to sneak in here and get a chance at you?” I reach out and squeeze his shaft again. “So, will you let me finish the job, please? I’ve been so hungry for it.”
“You came under my fucking desk, didn’t you? I heard it.”
“I couldn’t stay quiet. I was too horny. Sorry, Sir.”
His eyes are dark. His brows are dark. The salt and pepper of his beard suits his sullen character just right.
“Any of the management board could have heard you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, but give his shaft another squeeze. “Can I make it up to you? The meeting is done now, isn’t it? You can come in my mouth without anyone hearing.”
He scoffs at me. “You honestly think I’m going to reward you with a mouthful of cum at the click of your fingers, after that slutty bullshit you just put me through?”
He looks around – I guess to scope the surroundings out – then shunts his chair out further and gets to his feet.
“Come,” he says. “Get the fuck up here.”
His hand lands back in my hair, and he’s not gentle as he drags me out of my hideout. He slams me onto my back on the top of his huge stately desk, and his paperwork goes flying in all directions. His mouse tumbles off onto the floor, but he doesn’t even look at it, just hitches and spreads my legs. He grinds my slick panties with his fingers, cursing me for being such a filthy bitch.
“How long have you been wearing these?” he asks. “Look at the fucking state of them.”
“Since yesterday, Sir. I’ve been thinking about you. I hoped you’d like it. I hoped you’d be able to smell me when I was playing with myself. I thought it would turn you on.”
“Tempt me out of my fucking mind more like it, calculating bitch.” He keeps grinding his fingers against the filthy lace, and my tender clit pulses fresh. I squirm as he touches me. “Unbutton that fucking blouse,” he tells me. “Show me those huge tits of yours.”
I do as I’m told, my tits ripe and nipples hard as I unveil a white lacy bra that matches my dirty panties. He leans in, yanks the cups of my bra down and spits on my tits. I’m a good girl, smiling as I rub the wetness over my nipples.
“I like that, Mr Gregory.”
“You’d like anything I did to you, you filthy slut.”
He tugs my panties higher, so the lace becomes a rope between my pussy lips.
“Such a sweet pink butterfly between the legs of such a whore. What a fucking travesty,” he says, then splays me. He tugs the lace, so it grates tight, his eyes focused between my legs as the fabric works its magic on my clit.
“Please, yes, like that,” I say, and raise my arms above my head to grip at the edge of his desk, my nipples standing proud.
“Filthy panties on a filthy girl,” he sneers and drops his face to my crotch, lapping at me. I do feel like a filthy bitch as he pulls the lace away far enough to examine the dirty crotch. I know there must be stains on there. I know the scent must be ripe.
He breathes it in, and the pressure of his nose against my pussy is from Heaven above. He laps and sucks and takes advantage of my wet panties as I squirm. My body is on autopilot, writhing to his rhythm. It would be so easy to reach down and hold his head to me, bucking against his face as I came. But I wouldn’t do that to Mr Gregory. I daren’t. He’s the one in control here.
I let out a few moans, unable to resist the temptation.
“Shut up,” he says, and resumes squirming his tongue against my clit through the filthy lace.
“I can’t.” I let out another moan, gripping the desk tighter.
He pulls his face away and glares up at me. His lips are puffy from where he’s been grinding against sopping lace. “Shut the fuck up, or I’m going to have to make you.”