Page 88 of Wicked Pickle

Shit. “Yeah. I, uh, sketch.”

“It’s good.” She turns her head to examine it more closely. “Are one of my boobs slightly bigger than the other?”

“Yeah. They are.”

“Huh.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Do you have others? Of me, I mean.”

“I only do you.” Shit, that was a confession. I quickly add, “You want to see them?”

“Of course! These are wildly good. And fucking hot. I might drop my clothes right here.”

“Might want to close the door first.”

“Yes, sir, daddy dom.” She closes the door, flipping the lock. “Show me more.”

I pick up the other scraps. “These were quick sketches. A little feverish.”

That gets her attention. “Feverish?”

I lay them out. “Yeah.”

She sets her purse on my desk to take them from me. “Drawing me makes you hot?”

“So fucking hot.” I flip the sketchbook to the one of her on my desk.

“Oh, shit.” She touches her finger to her ankles drawn in cuffs. “You want to do that?”

“I was inspired when you called me your daddy dom.”

“I would be down for this.”

Fuck. My cock strains against my jeans. I grab her waist and turn her around. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”

“Nope. You’ll have to get me undressed this time.”

I run my hands down her legs. She has on the red heels I remember from the first night. Fuck. “I’m going to strip you naked.”

“Better hurry, or I might get away.” She pushes forward as if she’s going to escape, but I catch her easily and trap her against the desk, my cock raging against her belly. “Don’t be naughty, baby girl, or I will punish you.”

“Keep talking that way, and I’ll give you all the reasons to.”

This is what I’ve missed out on by only having drive-bys with random girls. Things can … develop.

I wrap my hand around her neck, lowering my mouth to hers. She tastes like mint and chocolate. I suck on her tongue, reaching down to unbutton her shorts.

She moans when I don’t take them off but instead slide my fingers inside her panties. She’s fucking wet. She’s been thinking about this. Probably on her way here.

I press two fingers into her, smiling against her mouth when she melts against me.

“Diesel, yes. God, how you know me.”

I do, and I plunder that knowledge until she clutches my shoulders, on the cusp, then I withdraw.

“Ooooh, you are mean.”

“Mmm. You will come when I tell you.”

She closes her eyes. “Do I love this game? I’m not one to wait.”

---