Page 57 of Maid in America

She burst into a laugh and then grabbed one of the stools along the wall and placed it on the platform beside him.

He held his muscular arms out, the pinnacle of male perfection. Like Da Vinci’sVitruvian Man.She pulled a small notepad and pencil out of a lace-covered bin above the door and set the items atop the stool. Quietly, she measured around the widest part of his chest, making sure to brush her hands against his hardened pecs. She scribbled the number down on a pad.

As a charged silence fell between them, her hands grazing various parts of his body, she measured his hips, wrists, and biceps.

As she measured his shoulders, she tiptoed up and nuzzled her nose against the skin near the back of his neck, hot breath against him as she dragged her lips across a few inches of his skin.

He moaned a little, softly. “You know your boss is going to come in here and see you harassing the customers.”

“I’d shudder to think about what would happen if she saw me do this. Her father would fire my ass in a heartbeat.”

Chastity’s hand slid around the front of his waist, down along the hard cut of his abdomen, behind the flag, deep into his briefs. He moaned again as she massaged his cock, strengthening his already-growing erection.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered into the ether.

Her hand retracted, and he felt the tape press from his neck to the top of his underwear before she scribbled more numbers on the pad.

She measured his neck, placing soft kisses down his spine as she did. Barrett’s flag was at full mast, underwear tented from his arousal.

She measured around his waist and hips, writing quickly.

“Can I have you turn around, please,sir?” She waited a moment. “I have to get yourinseam.”

“Gladly,” he said, barely finding the voice to speak as he spun in place to face her.

He craned his neck down and kissed her hard, stealing the breath from her lungs when he did. He pulled her face against his, tongue fierce and probing. He grabbed the lapels of her blazer and yanked it halfway down her arms, limiting her arm movements like handcuffs, kissing the tops of her breasts with fervor.

“Does that door have a lock,” he muttered between kisses.

“No,” she panted, eyeing the handle. Marcy could walk in at any moment and see them like this. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin.

Seconds later, her jacket was off, blouse tugged over her head, bra unsnapped in a lump on the white platform, one of her pierced nipples in his hot mouth.

She started to moan, but he clasped a hand over her mouth to silence her. His lips unlatched from her breast, and he quietly growled in her ear. “You don’t want Marcy to hear us, now do you?”

She shook her head, mouth still silenced by his palm. He plunged his other hand beneath the waistband of her skirt, beneath her panties, slipping his middle finger through her folds, feeling the soaked opening beneath.

“God damn, Aphrodite.”

She bit his palm softly, eyes slits at the sensation of his curled finger hooking up inside of her.

“You shouldmeasure my inseam.” He nodded down to his cock, hard as stone between their bodies.

She pulled away and smiled, lowering to her knees. She slowly tugged his underwear down to his thighs.

She looked up at him, amber eyes begging to taste him. He nodded, and she took him into her mouth, slipping her lips around and taking him deep into the back of her throat.

Barrett wanted to scream, biting his own fist to stay quiet. He stared down at her breasts, pierced and full, jiggling as she bobbed, never once choking despite how deep she could take him.

Pressure building, he pulled away, grabbed her by the armpits, and pulled her to her feet. He slapped away the notepad, flinging it into the corner and resting his ass on the cold, bare wood of the stool. He grabbed at her skirt, roughly jerking it up until the bottom was at her rib cage. He snatched her up by her waist, arms powerful and unyielding.

He wanted her.

Now.

“Fuck, my wallet… a condom,” he panted.

“I’ll take a Plan B tomorrow.”

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