Page 42 of Sinful Beauty

There’s no need to drop my trousers. I unzip the front and release my cock. I give it one firm stroke, then drag my tip through her folds.

“Lean forward a little more.”

Her elbows point out. She follows instructions well when she wants to. Her legs spread, making room for me.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to play just the tip?” She glances over her shoulder, her lips wet. She’s been sucking them, or biting them in her eagerness.

With one thrust, I slam into her. My hands find purchase on her hips.

God, she’s a fucking inferno.

“I’m not playing sweetheart.”

My palm slaps down over the side of her ass as she squirms. She pushes back on the desk. Something tumbles forward. The rug muffles the crash.

She’s so tight. So fucking right.

I slam against her, over and over, positioning her so the desk rubs her clit with each and every thrust.

The desk jerks forward and I pound harder. The stack of folders leans.

The smell of sex permeates the room.

Her mouth opens, and she releases a restrained groan as she tightens around me. Her back arches and I palm her breasts. Tweak her nipples.

My body releases with an unanticipated violence. My lower back tightens as my balls clench and my orgasm strikes so hard the room grows black.

Fast. Dirty. With the door open.

I collapse forward and suck hard on her neck as I spill everything into her.

She flattens across the desk. Once the oxygen returns to my lungs, I slap a palm playfully against her thigh.

“I’m going to be leaking out of you when you walk out of here.”

She pushes up off the desk, and the dress falls to her calves. I tuck myself back into my trousers.

The stillness of her facial features brings the reality into the room. That was fucking stupid.

“You’re on birth control, right?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to ask?”

I straighten, tucking in my shirt. I’m a fucking arsehole. “You’re right. I should’ve asked before taking you without a condom. I’m clean. I’ll bring you my paperwork. That was?—”

“It’s okay. If I’m honest, I was pretty aware of what was happening. I wanted it too.”

“Right. And…” She’s right. It’s late to be asking. But she’s wrong in that there are things we can do.

“I’m on the pill. It will be fine.”

The pill isn’t a common choice for the women I sleep with. “Not an IUD?”

She shakes her head slightly, and for a second, her expression appears sad. But, it might have been a trick of light, because I see nothing other than a slight rosy glow as she straightens the desk.

I help with the folders and am pleased with my luck when I see what spilled out of one folder. It’s a memo from one William Salo. A quick glance and it’s nothing of consequence, but it’s an open door.

“Did you know this chap?” I let her glance the paperwork before sliding it into the folder.

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