Page 44 of Unstitch

I tease his frenulum, and he moans loudly. I lick along the big vein running down the underside of his dick, and he shudders. He’s unabashed, losing himself in his own pleasure. And when I take as much of him as I can in my mouth, his entire body tenses beneath me and he claws at my hair, fisting handfuls of it. I expect him to grab my jaw and demand to set the pace as he fucks my mouth, but when I’m mid-deep-throat he hauls me off him and kisses me greedily, his tongue plundering my mouth with hungry strokes.

‘You’re too good,’ he mutters against my lips when he comes up for air. ‘I need to fuck you.’

And, with that, he spins me around and, with a decisive hand between my shoulder blades, hinges me forward until I’m bent over the desk, arms outstretched. He holds me in place like that, my pussy exposed and screaming, the antique dark-green leather surface cool against my cheek and far too smooth against my poor, needy nipples, as he rummages in a drawer. Then there’s the telltale rip of foil and he removes his hand while he busies himself with the condom.

The rough dig of his fingertips into my left hip is the only warning I get before he’s notching his tip at my entrance and shoving in, hard. It’s rougher than I expected, and his is not the easiest dick to accommodate, but I’m so primed, so wet, that I take him. And then he’s in, his hand going back to splay between my shoulder blades as he prepares to move.

It’s indescribable, the sheer, overwhelming completeness that wipes every thought from my mind except how to survive the onslaught and how badly I need to come. His thighs are flush against mine, the wool of his half-undone trousers bunching against my skin. He withdraws slowly, and I swear I feel every single millimetre as he drags himself against my inner walls.

The fingers on my hip caress my arse as the hand on my back entangles itself in my hair. ‘Fuck me,’ he says softly. ‘I don’t even know which way I like you best. Straddling my chair; crouching under my desk; bent over my desk with all your holes on display for me… So. Fucking. Beautiful.’

As he utters the last word, he drives forward, burying himself up to the hilt inside me, slamming my hips into the jutting edge of the desk and knocking the breath right out of my lungs. I cry out because Jesus Christ it’s perfect, and I need him to do this to me over and over and over, exactly like that, until he’s forced every last morsel of frustration and need out of me.

‘You want it rough, sweetheart?’ he asks, satisfaction lancing through his tone.

‘Yes,’ I whimper, because I need it like this from him. I need him to use me and fuck me and unleash himself on me, and I’m willing to sport a straight line of bruises from hip to hip for the rest of the week if it means I can come the way I want so badly.

He sucks a harsh breath in through his teeth. ‘Good. Hang on.’

His body is shaking against mine, such is the effort of holding himself off, but he stays bottomed out in me for a moment as he wedges his hands between me and the desk, and I push down with my palms and arch a little to give him the space he needs. He cups my boobs in both hands, squeezing and weighing before he pinches my nipples so viciously I practically come right here and now.

‘Oh my God.’ He can’t get any deeper inside me, but that doesn’t stop my hips from slamming back against him of their own accord.

‘Needy little nipples,’ he grits out. ‘Needy, needy nipples from a needy little whore. God, I wish I had a roomful of guys right now so they could touch every perfect inch of you while I pound you into fucking oblivion.’

He twists them hard again, as if to underscore his point, before releasing them, and I collapse back across the desk. In this bright, shining moment of hyper-arousal, I wish everything he says could be true. God knows, I’d take it all. I’d take every lick and suck and touch from every single guy he put in front of me. I’d be the greediest girl in the world, lapping it up while a roomful of men wound me so high they could shoot me through the stratosphere.

‘I want that,’ I manage as he pulls out of me.

‘You’ll get it,’ he promises darkly before he grabs a fistful of my hair so hard I yelp and really lets me have it.

31

MAX

It’s not just the explosive, all-consuming sensation of shoving my cock into Darcy’s cunt, over and over, with a whole lot of power and very little finesse.

It’s the sight of it all that has me fighting for control.

My angry dick, disappearing between those plump, creamy arse cheeks.

The delicate curve of her spine as she attempts uselessly to arch under my unflinching palm.

Her beautiful face in profile, her usually angelic features contorted with her need to come as much as with the effort of withstanding the uncompromising pummelling I’m giving her. Her outstretched arms, hands clenched into fists, chestnut hair strewn prettily across the leather of my desk.

It really is a most gratifying picture.

I’m surrounded by art, accolades, by the trappings of wealth and power and having well and truly “made it” in the business world. But nothing says victory, nothing says the sweet spoils of war, nothing says conquering hero like having a beautiful woman strewn across one’s desk to poke and fuck and defile.

Fuck me, if she’s not the ultimate prize. It feels right to be christening this office, and this desk, by coming deep inside Darcy’s beautiful body.

She wants more, greedy, wanton, delicious little slut that she is; she wants more cock from this Dex guy, but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t hobble out of here knowing that my cock alone is quite enough.

I flare my nostrils, breathing heavily as I force myself to keep my moves rhythmical. Every thrust must be a turn of the screw that’ll wind her tighter. Drive her higher.

She’s close. Those long, elegant fingers are clawing ineffectively at my desk’s surface, her eyes squeezing closed as she pushes her hips back to meet me every single time. Every time I ram home, her entire torso shunts up the desk. It must be sore, but the breathy, desperate whimpers she’s making are so fucking intoxicating they spur me on like a madman. I can’t hold back, so I hope to fuck she comes before I do.

Her orgasm rips through her, and I grab both her hips so I can piston through it as hard as I can. She’s a writhing, crying mess of hair and skin, bucking beneath my hands as those wonderfully toned internal muscles clamp down on my dick over and over.

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