The man is fumbling with my zipper. My hand is searching for his too… but not before I wrap half my hand around his growing hardness.
Groaning, Ian puts his hand on my breast, his voice reaching new depths unlike he was able to achieve as a very young man. My grip hesitates. That moan of approval was so… unlike anything I have heard from a man in a long time.
There are no mind games right now. We clearly both want this. Why compromise that with our bedroom nonsense? We’re not even in a bedroom. The excuse to do whatever we desire is there, and it’s perfect.
I tentatively hold his erection again. Stiff. Thick. I can barely see anything in his lap, let alone with black pants on, but I’m impressed. It’s not big enough to make me scream and call it a monster, but I’m getting wet just thinking about him again.
Instinctively, I loosen up.
Ian wraps his hand around mine, keeping it on his clothed cock. “It’s all right,” he says, “It’s not happening anytime soon.”
What a time to joke about it.
“Katie.” He kisses my shoulder, fingers still biting into my thigh. “Let me have you.”
“Have me?” Deep down, I know what he means. Any man could say that he wanted me, that he was going to fuck me. What Ian said was intriguing. “What do you mean by that?”
All kissing stops, but his grip is as firm as ever on my thigh. “Let me prove to you that I’m a worthy lover.”
Since he won’t kiss me, I kiss him. The air is warm, but not as warm as it is against his lips. Now his hand is halfway down my pants, his fingers riling me up for the main event, whenever that supposedly happens. I won’t say no to a great looking guy like Ian stroking my clit in the office.
You’d think I was a virgin from how I miscalculated the width of his fingers. He’s not even inside of me, but I’m moaning because holy fuck one finger alone is enough to fill the space between my folds. He chuckles into my ear when he feels how wet I must be. So stupid smug, and I don’t care, because now the smugness is turning me the fuck on.
I want Ian to get drunk on how wet I am for him. I want him to marvel at my hard nipples and the heat pouring from every hole in my body. Fuck me here, fuck me there, I don’t care! Of course I want him to fuck me where it counts most. All week I have been fantasizing, in my chair, in my bed, in my shower… fantasizing about this man right here filling me with his cock.
I know he’s not submissive. I know he’s not going to submit to me. I’m fine with that, once in a while. Sometimes even a Domme wants to have a gorgeous man split her in two and take her. The right man, anyway.
Once again, I remind myself that this isn’t BDSM. This is plain ol’ hot fucking sex. It doesn’t matter who is on top, as long as we both get off as hard as possible.
“Ian,” I murmur, delighting in how fun his name is to say. He glances at me, but his eyes would rather feast on my breasts poking out from my blouse and on his fingers slipping in and out of my pants, wetter, wetter, dripping. “I want to fuck you.”
It must be the Domme in me. Making my intentions clear like that. I look in Ian’s eyes, which are whirling in lust… lust for me. Yup. I made the right decision getting vocal, because this man knows that I want to fuck him. He knows that I’m waiting for the right moment to jump in his lap and wrap my core around his cock.
“Going farther than this,” I begin, my hand groping his hardness, “means we’re fucking.”
His teeth tug on my earlobe, his hand pushing so hard against my slit that I can feel my wetness struggling to break free. I’m so relaxed, so ready that none of our awkward positions or the discomfort from the chair beneath my ass bothers me. So consumed with my need for sex, and all I can think about is unzipping this man’s trousers and stroking the skin of his shaft.
My hand barely fits around his girth. I don’t have small hands.
Fuck me, there’s no way he was this big the first time we tried doing it. Or at least I don’t think he was. I would remember a huge cock at that age. This is one of the biggest I’ve felt now, let alone back then. Shit, maybe he wasn’t fully erect back then? Is that why things went south?
Why the hell am I thinking about this?
“Yes, ma’am,” he hisses in my ear, drawing his hand out and showing me how wet his fingers are. As I pull him completely from his pants and massage the head of his cock, he pushes his fingers into my mouth, and all I taste is the salt of his skin and the sweet bitterness of me.
I push my tongue between his fingers, hearing him groan. An image of me bending down and spreading my lips over his cock enters my mind. Suddenly I am taken back a week ago, watching Stephanie May bob up and down this cock. I realize it now. The reason I was so annoyed watching Ian Mathers get a blowjob from a hot blonde was because I still had yet to get mine from him.
This man owes me.
How to do it? The easiest thing would be to straddle his lap and have him fuck upward into me, letting gravity pull my hips down onto him as the table bumps into my ass. I love riding. I love feeling a man between my legs as I hold onto his wide, muscular chest and slam my opening against his rigid cock. I love the freedom it gives me, even when he’s sitting down. I can be wild in my movements and bask in my own carnal glory as a man’s cock swells and releases its energy. Some of the best orgasms of my life have come from me riding a bucking bronco.
But I want more. It’s not enough to slip into Ian’s lap and feel him fill me. If we’re doing this, then I want to be consumed. I want…
I want to feel him all around me. I want it to be how it was supposed to be twelve years ago, regardless of the kind of sexual creatures we are now.
There’s the table here. I could sit on it, spread my legs, and have him stand and thrust into me. My arms will hold me up, but I will have to rely on him to pinch my nipples and stroke my stomach. Or we could take over Anita’s poor little desk into the corner. Let the corner of the room prop me up while Ian pounds into my pussy and completely loses himself. God, that sounds so fucking good!
I’m about to suggest we take this to the corner, when his voice is inside my ear, pushing away my thoughts and plummeting toward my gut. “I can’t stop thinking about bending you over this table and taking you.”
Shivers claim me. I haven’t been bent and fucked in a long, long time. It’s not my style. It’s too submissive for me. If the man isn’t beneath me, I want to at least be able to look into his eyes. Bending over the table would be too…
Nevertheless, the way he said it thrills me. I want more dirty talk like that.
“What else do you want to do to me?” I whisper, my hand tight around his cock. My thumb moves up and becomes wet with his precum. If I were still trying to seduce him, I’d lick it off. Fuck, I want to know what his cum tastes like…
Not now.
Ian takes me by the chin and turns my head toward his, lips mauling mine as his tongue threatens to choke me. More precum covers my hand. Don’t do it, Ian. Don’t come now. Your fantasies aren’t anywhere near as good as the real thing I offer you!
“I don’t care what I fucking do to you, Kathryn. I just want to do it. Right now. Holy shit, do I need to do it right now.” His groan is telling, but his cock remains dry and hard. “Anything you want, Katie.” His hand clutches the underside of my breast and holds it up, letting his lips divert from mine and onto my nipple. The man is worshipping me. He’s not being submissive, but he’s worshiping me, and I want to die.
We both say it at the same time.
“The wall.”
I’m up. He’s up. Yes, yes, this is the only way we can possibly do it. This is the only way we can move on with our lives, after holding this small grudge with each other for over a decade. I promise myself that I won’t be angry if the same unfortunate thing happens again. If he comes on me too early, I won’t leave. Not because of that. This is as much my redemption to him as it is his redemption to me.