Page 56 of Yours Truly

My hips move, my thighs tighten around his hips and I drop a hand to my clit and stroke the swollen bud. “Why?” I breathe, my body flooding with urgent electricity, jolts of energy that press against my belly and pussy, an explosion growing.

“You make it sound good,” he moans as I reach back, stroking his swollen sack with the tips of my fingers. “You make me sound good.”

With his hot sack in my palm, I roll him around, all while gyrating my hips so that the dildo nudges the sweet spot. My stomach clenches and my thighs tighten as Trace sucks in a heated breath through his teeth. His jaw is tight, restraint etched into his handsome features. The knife-wielding octopus comes to my throat, his thumb pressing the key to my body.

He holds me there while I ride the dildo, fucking myself harder and faster as the sight of Trace beneath me starts to take hold. His nostrils flare as his fingers sink into my throat, touching my pulse.

“What do you tell them when you come?” I rasp, my orgasm spearing through my thighs, twisting in a knot in my pussy. I’m so close. Dangerously close.

“To take it,” he utters, his dark eyes set on mine. His focus unfurls the orgasm inside me, bringing it to full bloom. With the hand behind my ass, I grab his caged cock and squeeze just as the first wave hits me. Clenching around the toy, I keep my eyes pinned on him as I moan, “Take it, take it, Trace.”

Grinding my body against his, only a trace of the dildo can be seen as I fuck myself hard, coming in relentless, powerful waves.

“Fucking fuck!” Trace howls, still holding my throat, his other hand on my hip as a hot stream tears from the slit in the cage, coating my fingers, falling onto the desk with a thud. My eyes widen as I rock through my orgasm, realizing that Trace is coming as I fuck myself on top of him.

“You,” I breathe, rocking and clenching, grinding and moaning. I can’t finish my thought because there’s more warm cream coating my fingers and palm and for a million dollars, I can’t take my eyes off of him.

Intensely, he holds my gaze as he comes, his body pulsing and thrumming beneath me as I drench the toy. He’s breathing hard and so am I, but I don’t try to finish that sentence, and he doesn’t ask. When the last of the electric orgasm has torn free from me, and from him, I rise up, watching the dildo slide out of me slowly. It’s coated in me, and before I even climb off of him, he’s dragging his thumb against it, bringing it to his lips.

Once I’m on my feet, I take his hand and help him sit up on the desk. We survey the scene.

Thick, white ribbons of cum streak the desk, and I have the strongest urge to take a photo, to remember the way I made him explode. But I don't. Instead, I grab a roll of paper towels and wipe up the dildo, carefully cleaning up the desk with disinfectant, and he steps out of the harness.

“I’ll wash it at home. Don’t really wanna be on camera washing sex toys at work,” I say to Trace, our first post-coital conversation.

He scratches the back of his head as he swings his legs off the desk. We take a moment to redress, awkwardly bumping our heads together as we both bend to put our pants back on. When we’re redressed, Trace outstretches his palm to me.

My gaze ping-pongs over it. “What?”

“The key,” he says.

I tuck my hair behind my ears, and adjust the crotch of my bodysuit before rolling the waist of my leggings. “Were you going to fuck her because you were angry?”

I shove my foot into one of my boots, keeping my eyes on him. He opens his mouth, dragging his hand over it, searching for words he can’t find. But the answer is simple.

“You invited those women to Ink Time last night. Were you going to fuck one of them out of anger?”

He swallows. “Yes.”

I walk my fingers up his chest, coming to grip the neckline of his t-shirt, dragging his mouth to mine. We don’t kiss but we’re close when I ask, “You were angry at me?”

He nods, barely. “Yes.”

“Because you didn’t like me going out with Jeremy.”

Another nod, another “Yes.”

“Because you like me.”

This time, nothing. I reach down and twist his trapped balls through his jeans, still swollen despite the release. He sucks in a breath. “Yes.”

I let go, rock to my toes and press my lips to his. “One lesson isn’t enough. You really need to learn. Because we’re worth more than pissing it all away if you don’t get your way one night.” I kiss him again. “You wouldn’t let me tattoo someone after just one lesson, would you?”

He groans.

But he takes my face in both of his hands and kisses me so long and deep, I’m lightheaded. When he releases me he says, “You did good today, Firecracker. On your first session and with me.”

I want to kiss him again, but the closeness of the moment is vacuumed out when he opens the office door and breaks the spell. “You get to me like no one else has, in the best ways.”

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