Page 30 of Sinful Beauty

I’m curious about his grandfather. There are portraits of three generations of Wagners in the executive conference room. He’s the only one missing.

His last shoe hits the rug with a soft thump and he steps out of his trousers. He lifts both the pants and his shirt and drapes them over the bar on my hanging rack. He’s wearing tight black briefs, and only those briefs. His skin is untouched by the sun. Dark curly hair enhances his toned, muscular legs. He’s tall, but fit, sporting the body of an athlete. There are no scars, no tattoos.

When he turns from the clothes rack, his gaze rakes over me. I stand before him in only black cotton panties and a black supportive bra. I don’t own fancy lingerie. It’s a splurge I have never justified, but I do buy in only white, black or tan, for ease of matching.

The way he’s looking at me, I suspect he couldn't care less about the quality of my undergarments. If the bulge in his briefs is any indication, my instinct is spot on.

I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. It hangs loosely and the cool air circles over my nipples. My breasts have been heavy since the refrigerator. My nipples still hard with arousal.

I toss the bra behind me and crawl onto the bed, rolling onto my side, leaning up on one elbow. I lick my lips and curl my finger, gesturing for him to come forward. It’s time for him to take what he wants.

He tilts his head, as if contemplating his next move. As if he’s a commander, and I am his conquest. His briefs fall to the floor, and my gaze goes to his abundant manhood.

Yes, I want him. This is shaping up to be a once in a lifetime experience.

He’s not circumcised, and he’s beautiful. Thick and oh so hard. He grips himself with his fist, from just above the base to the tip.

I push off and crawl to him. He may think he’s in control, but I’ll resume the lead. When I reach the end of the bed, he’s there. I reach for him, but he takes my arm and pulls me against him. He tugs on my hair, pulling my head back, demanding my mouth.

He palms my ass, his hand slips beneath my panties so he’s skin on skin. Fitting, since his erection presses into my belly. His chest hair prickles my sensitive buds.

I break the kiss and nip his neck, then glide down his body, to my knees. He looks to the ceiling, and I fist his length. Up and down.

My knees dig into the floor, and I rise, angling him for a taste. My tongue circles his smooth tip, and when I glance up, I’m met with his hungriest gaze yet. I take him in my mouth and am met with a guttural groan.

He fists my hair, guiding me. He doesn’t me push me, or force me, but rather, it’s almost as if he needs to touch me to withstand the pleasure, to hold himself up. I reach for his testicles, kneading them, and he expands in my mouth.

In a flash, my knees are off the floor. A second later, and my back is on the bed.

“Did you not like that?”

“I liked it too much, and you know that’s the truth.”

I grin. He’s right. He was close. With a slight scraping of teeth, he might have blown.

And then he’s over me, kissing me as if I am oxygen. He breaks away, and descends my body, stopping to cup my breast and to lavish attention on each nipple.

“These are fucking perfect.”

I have full breasts. Men like them but I especially like how he likes them. It’s when he uses his teeth, and the pain and pleasure mingle, that I’m squirming, squeezing my thighs together. My fingers find their way to my vulva. I have a need, and it’s one I’m highly adept at sating.

He clasps my wrist and stops me, lifting his head to snap, “Patience.”

I grin. One of my legs is partially trapped by his weight, but I spread my other thigh, and tell him, “Get to it then.”

Chapter11

Tristan

Her dark hair twirls around her, wild and untamed. Delectable curves that beg to be plundered. A tempting siren.

She’s so much more than what she presents at the office. This whole tit for tat, battling for the advantage, that’s entirely unexpected. And I do like to be surprised.

I run my nose over her panties, breathing her in. She squirms, but she doesn’t look away. No, she watches.

I slide the cotton aside. The tip of my finger brushes aside black curls to explore her silky seam. As anticipated, she’s eager. I pull back, sitting back on my legs. She understands intuitively and closes her thighs together. I grip the elastic, tugging it over her ass and up her smooth thighs and calves. The scrap of material falls away and I clasp her lowers legs, nipping the skin. I take her ankles and separate those long, lean legs, opening her for me.

Jesus, she’s a beauty. I could easily climb her right now and slam into her. I fist my cock, stroking, considering how good that would fucking feel.

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