Page 63 of Some Like It Hott

“Fine, then,” she says and shrugs. Her mouth lifts into a wicked smile, and she drops to her knees in front of me. Cups the bulge of my erection through my suit slacks.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sucking you,” she says, the words so perfectly, deliciously dirty that my cock jerks against the constraint of my boxer briefs and trousers.

“Jesus, Nat,” I rasp out.

She works my belt free.

My cock is thick, flush. Getting her off made me desperate with lust. And watching her hands on my buckle and my button and zipper?

I didn’t know I could be this hard.

And apparently I can still get harder because now she’s tugging my briefs down and tonguing the head of my cock.

Hot as fuck.

“Natalie,” I groan.

She stops, and I groan again.

“Hush,” she says, waggling a finger up at me. She’s beautiful on her knees like this, looking up at me through long lashes, cheeks still flushed from her own pleasure, naughty intentions written all over her face. “Not a sound from you.”

She’s delighted to be giving me a taste of my own medicine; I bite back my smile.

Her tongue’s on me again, circling, finding the wetness at my tip and savoring it, licking long caresses down my shaft, then coming back up to work the sensitive spot under the head. I almost say her name again but stop myself, sliding a hand into her hair instead. Not to control her depth or speed, just to be touching her. I want to touch her all over. If her mouth didn’t feel so fucking good on my cock, I’d force her to her feet so I could kiss and touch every inch of her. I’d lay her out on the conference table and settle my mouth between her legs.

Instead, I watch her lips wrap around my cock and try with every ounce of my waning self-control not to thrust into the wet heat of her mouth as she sucks and licks and takes me deeper than I’d ever ask for. I never assume anyone’s throat is for my taking, but Natalie’s giving and giving in a way that I can feel to the root of my shaft and deep in my balls, and the pleasure is rich and thick, gathering like a storm. I tug her hair, trying to warn her without sound, but if anything, she’s licking harder, sucker me deeper, humming a little at the back of her throat like she loves the feel of me there.

“Natalie—” I break my silence to warn her. “I’m close?—”

I think she’ll pull off. That she’ll say,Shh, that she’ll tell me to be quiet, but that’s not what happens. She doubles down, and the hot swirl of her tongue, the feel of her swallowing me, gathers heat at the base of my spine, need surging up.

“I’m going to?—”

Her hand comes around the back of my thigh, locks there, tight, and it’s that—the bossiness of it, the sureness of it, the explicit invitation—that pushes me over the edge, and I’m coming hard down her throat, and she’s swallowing, the contractions of her throat mingling with the spasms of my cock, her hums and my soft helpless groans tangling in the quiet air of the conference room, until we’re both quiet and still.

She pulls off slowly and looks up at me.

There’s no other word for the expression on her face butsmug.

“That was?—”

I discover I can’t even finish the sentence, which only makes her smirk deeper.

“I’ve never had a work blow job,” I say instead. Pretty sure I lost about a thousand brain cells a minute ago.

“Maybe you have the wrong job?” she suggests, grinning and wiping her chin.

There’s a knock at the door, and we frantically reassemble ourselves, both our fingers overlapping in a desperate effort to get my fly closed and my slacks buttoned.

“Pres, you in there?” Hanna asks from outside.

We’re laughing so hard it’s making it even harder to fumble our way back to mostly presentable. Natalie scans me, and I do the same back, and we both give nods of approval before I hurry to the door and unlock it.

“Was that locked?” Hanna asks.

“I don’t think so,” I say. “Maybe jammed or something?”

---