Page 38 of By the Fae

Awesome, I was already hard again.

Why did this feel so exquisitely naughty? There were no chains, or paddles, or toys, or even onlookers, just an ordinary and highly bothersome human woman, in a very ordinary-looking bra and pantie set. I slipped my hand under the fabric, cupping her tit, trapping her already hard nipple in the gaps between my fingers. Her head fell backward, breath caught in her throat. I let my mouth follow the trail of my fingers. Pushing the lace aside and taking the bud between my teeth. Her whole body spasmed.

I slid the straps from her shoulders, reached a hand behind her, and popped her bra open. It fell to the bed, baring her to me.

And. Holy. Hell.

Holly’s tits were perfection. As far as tits went, they were on the smaller side, but exactly the right size to nestle in my cupped palm. Round, and plump, like two fat, juicy apricots, ripe and ready to sink my teeth into. Her brown nipples were taut and puckered, and pointed directly at me, beckoning me over.

“Gods, woman,” I said. “You’ve been hiding all this.” I lowered my hand, grazing across Holly’s stomach. I’d be coming all over that tomorrow night. An involuntary cry escaped my throat, and I palmed my erection, stroking myself in lazy grips.

Hey!The urgency was back. The itch.

“Be a doll, and lift those legs for me,” I said, pulling her panties to her knees. She did. On my way back up, I gave the lightest kiss to her sex, teasing my tongue gently into the top of her slit. Tasting her. Before whipping my mouth away. I’d never wanted to be inside something more.

I moved to the side of Holly and pulled her backwards onto my lap so that her back was flush to my chest, her legs pointing primly forward. We were both facing off the bed towards a newly glamoured floor to ceiling mirror.

“Was that always there?” she said, breathlessly.

I couldn’t help but touch her, palm her breasts again, my body no longer accepting any protestation from my brain.

“Look how fucking gorgeous you are.”

Holly shook her head. My hands travelled lower, down over her ribs, waist, hips, stomach. My hips already bucking against her, rubbing my hard cock against the base of her spine.

Trailing my hands over her thighs, I pulled them apart, hard.

“Fuck, Holly, you’re a fucking queen,” I said, as she squeaked.

And she was, as much as At-Work-Me will try to deny it. She was beautiful. Her feminine curves melded perfectly into my planes. That pussy! I knew I’d be painting that pussy forever more. Glamouring it into existence, just so I could look at it again.

I may have just completely destroyed how I saw her at work. Though I probably destroyed that the first night I fucked my hand to Holly’s image. No point in denying it now. I wanted her. She made me so infuriatingly hard.

Unable to stop myself, I scooped her curls to one side and planted a kiss on the curve of her neck. “My time starts . . .” Her breath hitched. “Now.”

The fingers on my left hand drifted down and dipped themselves into Holly’s slickness. I had to pull my lips in between my teeth and bear down on her shoulder with my forehead to stop myself exploding all over her back. So fucking deliciously wet for me. She was trembling, and I hadn’t even touched her clit yet. I trailed my middle finger down one side to her entrance and sunk it in. Only about an inch or two, up to the second knuckle, and curled it.

Holly bucked upwards, a moan escaping her lips, which she slapped a palm over. With my other hand, I removed hers from her face. “No, baby girl, I want to hear how good it is for you.” From the flash of panic in her eyes, I knew this was something that we’d have to work towards.

I pulled my finger out, moving to the sensitive bud of her sex, and began tracing lazy circles with my fingertips. It took me five seconds tops before I found that exact spot that would have her whole body twitching like a bug in a zapper. It was going to be too easy. I should have made the conditions a little more challenging, like perhaps I could only use my elbows. Or eyelashes.

Surprise briefly registered on Holly’s face before she lost herself again as I strummed soft circles onto her clit. “I told you I was good at this,” I whispered into her ear, my forehead pressed into her temple. The little hairs on her neck erupted under my breath. I desperately tried to think of anything but the delicious, dripping opening an inch away from my cock.

In the mirror, she watched my movements, and I watched her watching them, as her body began pulsating to the rhythm of my strokes. Holly was already getting close. Little spasms of pleasure working their way up her body, and yet, still frustratingly quiet, save for the occasional whimper that worked its way out.

“It’s been about two minutes,” I said. “I’ve got three left. I can either rub your clit until you come, which will be any second now, or you can fuck my hand.”

Holly dragged heavy-lidded eyes towards mine.

“What will it be, baby girl?”

“Your hand,” she panted.

“Say the whole thing.”

“I want to . . . f—I can’t do it. Swearing feels weird.”

That she could admit that at a time like this. I clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job.

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