Page 90 of The Stranger
“What I’m doing to you or myself?”
“Both,” I pant as I let go of his desk and reach for his shoulders.
“This is what I do to myself in the shower when I’m thinking of you.”
Watching him pleasure himself only makes what he’s doing to me, feel more intense. I see the pre-cum leaking from the eye of his penis, and I want to lean down so I can taste him but my orgasm is approaching hard and fast.
“I’mcoming.” My grip on his shoulders tightens. My legs tremble so badly that I’m worried they’ll give way.
“That’s it, come all over my hand, sweetheart.”
His fingers are now driving into me and he doesn’t relent until I’m thoroughly drained. When he removes them from inside me, he lifts them to his mouth and sucks them between his lips. “Delicious.”
That move was insanely hot.
He opens his top drawer and removes a condom. “You have condoms in your office?”
“I grabbed a couple from home this morning … you know, just in case the opportunity arose.”
“Right,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“Relax, you’re the only woman I’ve ever fucked in my office.”
“You’ve never fucked me in your office. Maybe in your head, but not in reality.”
He barks out a laugh as he tears open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the condom down his impressive length. “Definitely in my head, but my fantasy is about to become my reality.” He grasps the base of his dick again, holding it slightly away from his body. “Come and sit on my cock, like a good little girl, Delilah.”
I immediately do as he asks, straddling his lap. We moan in unison as I slowly sink down, taking him deep inside my body.
There’s something sexy about the way he orders me around. It’s not condescending or belittling. He knows I’m up for the task. He’s simply handing over the power. The ultimate decision will always be mine.
My ex was the opposite. He used to treat me with kid gloves, which, in turn, made me feel fragile and weak.
If you discount the time, he rammed his dick up my arse of course.
“I’ve been fantasising about fucking you like this all morning,” Spencer whispers as his lips run a path along my jawline. “I can’t seem to get enough of you, Miss St. James. I’m addicted to your taste, scent, touch …you.”
“Delilah,” my mother says when she answers the door and finds me standing on the front porch. “Why didn’t you use your key, silly girl? This is your home; you don’t have to knock.”
Has this place ever truly been my home?
I lift one shoulder because I’m unsure of what to say to that. Sometimes it’s better to pick your battles and keep your mouth shut. I didn’t come here for a fight.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she answers, opening the screen door and stepping back, allowing me to enter.
It’s funny how foreign it feels to be back here. In the short time I’ve been at Spencer’s, it has become my home … my safe place.
I follow my mum into the kitchen and take a seat at the dining table. “Would you like a cuppa? Or something to eat? I have some leftovers in the fridge.”
“A coffee sounds good,” I answer.
I watch as she fills up the kettle with water and grabs two mugs out of the cupboard. “How have you been? I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“You have?”
“Yes.” She puts a scoop of instant coffee in both mugs, adding sugar to mine. I’m pleased she still remembers how I like it, even though I’ve only been gone a few weeks. It’s the little things that always gave me hope.
