Page 43 of Unstitch

I take in her stupendous curves, those pale tits, the taut little furls of her nipples. I take in the strip of fair hair as she tugs her thong down and sashays towards me. The little beauty.

‘Fuck me,’ I groan, freeing my cock from my boxer briefs and fisting it as she comes around the desk to stand in front of me. I rake my gaze hungrily over her body.

It might come as a shock to everyone who knows me that I haven’t christened this office yet, but I’ve had no fucking time. This IPO will be the death of me, and it hasn’t even kicked off yet. But in this moment I’m in the office I fought tooth and nail for, behind the desk that stands for every ounce of influence I’ve won in this company.

In this corporate kingdom, I’m the king, and I both wield the power and bear the burden that goes with that poisoned chalice.

What I say goes.

And what I say is that it would be a crying shame not to bend this auburn-haired beauty over my desk and bury my face in her cunt before I let her loose on my desperate cock.

‘Come here,’ I say, slapping the desk with the hand that’s not wrapped around the base of my cock. ‘Sit up and let me see.’

She licks her lips and tosses her hair over her shoulders as she plants her very nice bottom on the edge of the desk.

‘Let me see,’ I repeat in a voice that brooks no argument, and she obliges, gripping the edge of the desk with her hands as she manoeuvres her legs wide. I keep my eyes on her face, my gaze boring into her as she positions herself. We both want this. Need it. We both crave that sacred exchange where she yields her power and I cradle it in my hands so I can deliver what she truly desires.

Only when she’s in place do I let my eyes flicker to that rosy, hallowed spot. I sigh when I see it, because she’s fucking perfection.

I scoot my chair forward so my knees are between her legs and allow myself a single upward stroke of my cock. It feels so good. So right. ‘Hold yourself open for me,’ I order her in my coldest voice, and she makes the tiniest noise at the back of her throat, as if she’s been waiting and hoping for exactly that instruction.

Her long fingers with those gold rings part her delicate outer lips, and I lean right in. In towards that pretty pink cunt, its centre slick for me and its clever little bud already greedy and swollen and pulsing, this most private sanctum of her body betraying that Darcy is indeed mine to use as I like.

I slide a single finger inside her, two knuckles deep, her body sucking me in, her gasp audible. My thumb hovers over her clit. A glance up at her face shows me her head bent forward, lips parted, eyes fixed on the spot where I’m touching her.

‘Legs on the arms,’ sweetheart,’ I tell her, and she grips the desk harder as she hikes her legs up gracefully, one on each arm of my chair, putting her in the same position she’d be in at a gynaecological exam.

Mmm. There’s an idea for a role play.

I pull my fingers out and hold both her ankles in place so I can lean forward and dip my head for a taste. And as my tongue slices through her soaking flesh I observe that this is already the best lunch I’ve had since I took over this office.

30

DARCY

Max eating me in his office in the middle of the day is hotter than hell. I’m naked and trussed up on his Big Dick desk for him, legs spread and pussy on display while he’s impeccably suited, and the power imbalance is so fucking skewed and such a turn on I can hardly bear it.

I plant my palms behind me and lean my weight back, giving him even more access. The appraising glance he gives me as he looks up at my naked body tells me he approves. I have a feeling, though, that the way he’s tending to my pussy isn’t for me. The licks, the sucks—they’re decadent and ravenous and perfect, but they’re taking licks and taking sucks.

Knowing he’s using me for his own pleasure, his own reward, has arousal coursing through me even more than his skilful ministrations. I’m the entertaining little intermission in an otherwise busy day of wheeling and dealing and power playing and whatever other high-finance stuff he does, and I love it. I love serving him.

On which note, I want to service him. I want to be naked under that desk, sucking him off.

‘I want a turn,’ I tell him as articulately I can given the astonishing pleasure he’s unleashing on my body.

He bestows one long lick upon me, from my entrance to my clit, and then glances up, his gorgeous face bright with desire. ‘Fuck, yeah,’ he says roughly. ‘Get down here and earn the rest.’

He releases my ankles and helps me drop my feet to the floor, and then I’m clambering down, my knees hitting that velvety carpet. From this position, he cuts an even more imposing figure. His poor cock is still standing to attention, long and thick and so hard the skin around it is stretched satin-smooth. There’s precum beading temptingly at the tip, but when I look up at him, he’s smirking like he’s not a man driven to the precipice by sexual frustration. He wraps his fingers around the edge of the armrests and shifts his arse—and dick—forward, leaning back as if he’s settling in for a nice rest.

‘You look even better at my feet like that,’ he tells me from his lofty, Big Dick position. ‘Show me what a good little whore you are, sucking me under my desk. If someone came in, they wouldn’t even know you were here, would they?’

‘No,’ I say, launching myself forward. His words are a lit match to the petrol trail of desire he’s laid. God knows, no one in their right mind would call me submissive, so why the fucking hell does the idea of being the good little whore, tucked away like this and existing solely for this powerful man’s needs, make my primed, swollen pussy throb even harder?

I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock. I can’t get to his balls like this with just his flies undone, so I use my other hand to grip the taut muscle of his thigh as I flick my tongue over the precum. It’s salty and unctuous and just for me. He shudders and makes a noise that’s half laugh, half groan, like even the tip of my tongue is too much to bear.

I know how you feel, mister.

It’s time to go for it. I let myself lick and lave, swirling my tongue around the smooth heat of his crown, smearing the precum as I go. He smells clean and aroused and masculine, and I fucking love it. I lick him kind of like I dance: instinctively, naturally, with lavish sweeps of my tongue and sensual strokes of my lips.

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