Too Fast For Love: Opportunist Encounters. Various

he said. And then he dropped back into my chair and rolled towards me, the casters sighing on the old linoleum floor.

      His mouth was searing on my pussy lips, his tongue intrusive in the best possible way. Insinuating itself into my wet folds, seeking out and finding my rigid clitoris. I gripped the lip of the table and held on tight. I didn’t want to come so fast. Fuck. Not so fast.

      He wasn’t gentle or shy about it. He pressed his mouth, generous for such a hard-looking man, to the lips of my pussy and ate me in earnest. I gripped the wood beneath my fingers hard and held myself at bay. Barely. I wanted to grab him and hold his shoulders and thrust up rudely against his seeking tongue, but managed not to. I let him do what he wanted. Which was taste me – slow but not too slow, rough but not too rough – fan-fucking-tastic. I thought I’d gotten away with it, but at the last minute he pressed my thighs wide with his strong hands and sucked my clit hard, bit it gently and then thrust his tongue into my weeping cunt before sucking again.

      I came with the sound you would get if a laugh and a sob had a baby. My body shook uncontrollably as the orgasm rolled through me, little pink sparkles to match my tea dress blooming in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. He held me firm with his hands on my thighs as it lessened somewhat.

      ‘Don’t move.’ He stood, took his heavy cock in his hand and sidled up between my thighs. His legs pressed against the table, his button and zipper scraping at me a little as he stroked the head of his cock along the soaking wet split of me.

      ‘Move forward some,’ he finally commanded.

      I did it. Lulled and mesmerised by his voice. The easy way he commanded without sounding like a jerk or a prick.

      A single swift thrust brought him deep into me. My still tight pussy eating up his erection as he drove in hard. Big hands cupping my ass through the silly fluffery of my dress.

      ‘Kiss me, kiss me,’ I begged, finally speaking.

      He did. My shoulder and then my neck so I shivered. Then my hair and my ear, before finally bringing his lips down on mine. His tongue tasting of my pussy. The musky sweet taste of my own sex and juices.

      He hauled me forward roughly, grunting like a beast as he found a place inside of me that apparently pleased him very much. ‘Good,’ he said.

      ‘Good,’ I echoed, though I wasn’t sure if it had been a question. I was pretty sure it wasn’t.

      Mack found my clit with his thumb and my pulse with his teeth. It wasn’t hard for him to make me wetter that way. Or make me beg. His mouth was sharp and insistent as it scraped my skin. His breath rolling bursts of thunder in my ear. He pressed that tiny hard nub of flesh that made me shiver and said, ‘Come on, Gretch, give it to me.’

      No one was allowed to call me Gretch. I hated dirty talking – thought it was stupid.

      Until now.

      He pressed my clit again, rocking his hips just so until I felt the blissful tightening of internal muscles, the flood of heat, the apex of tension and then the blissful waterfall effect of a really strong orgasm.

      ‘There she is.’ He chuckled as I held his big biceps with my hands. My thighs trembled and my arms responded in kind.

      ‘Here I am.’ I pushed at him suddenly with my forearms. Shoving him back so he had to move.

      His rough mug twisted into a smile. ‘Are we going to be that way?’

      ‘Yes … I mean no!’ I gasped. ‘Let me up. Please,’ I finished, ‘I need –’

      Someone knocked on the door and my eyes flew to the clock. Oh shit. My one o’clock consignment appointment had arrived. Our eyes met, his impossibly dark, mine frantic, I’m sure. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

      ‘Ignore it,’ I blurted and pushed him a bit harder. My feet hit the floor and my knees did a little wiggly dance that threatened to spill me on my ass. My body was still throwing off brilliant echoes of my orgasm and I could feel heat in my cheeks like fire.

      ‘Where you going, Gretch?’ he asked, pulling my bodice out from my breasts with his finger.

      ‘Nowhere, here …’ I wasn’t making any sense, so, when he shoved his big hand into the front of my fluffy pink frock and pinched my nipples so hard I almost came again, the moan I let out fit right into the conversation.

      I wiggled away from him and turned my back to his mass. Heart beating so hard it was damn near all I could hear, I rucked up the back of my new dress, held it tight to my waist and bent over the antique wooden table he’d just fucked me on. I presented myself, legs apart so he could feel or see the wetness of my pussy should he choose to.

      ‘Please,’ was all I managed.

      He dragged it out – cocky bad boy that he was – by sliding each finger along my drenched slit. He’d find my clit and press it or pinch it or just swirl a broad fingertip over it until I was damn near vibrating. Then he gave a grunt that told me he had reached the end of his amusement with this game. He came in close behind me, making the fine hairs along my skin hum and sway, and kicked my legs a bit further apart.

      And then he was in, driving deep, filling me up and stretching me wide and gripping my bare hips in his strong hands the way that made me crazy.

      ‘You like it from behind, do you?’

      I could only nod.

      When he rotated his hips from side to side a little, making tender places deep inside me flex and grasp at him, I saw tiny fairy lights in my vision. I was holding my breath, I realised, so I exhaled. It was a shuddering, desperate sound.

      ‘Dirty, dirty, dirty.’ He chuckled and then his rhythm caught fire. Mack drove into me hard and fast, inching my high-heel-sheathed feet off the ground until I was a faux ballerina, only my toes touching the linoleum, the wooden table shaking with his efforts and my violent motions.

      ‘Yes,’ I told him.

      ‘Yes?’

      I nodded, my hair swishing on the wood. I could hear his suit trousers whispering as he pounded into me. His thumb found the tight star of my anus and I froze before relaxing into the bite of pain and shoving back to force his hand. He slid into me further there, so the hint of pain amped up the rush of pleasure.

      ‘Yes, yes,’ I countered, laughing a little.

      It made no sense. It made perfect sense.

      ‘You’re so dirty you’re pushing me past my limit, Gretch.’ There was humour in his voice, but something more.

      Truth.

      His thumb pushed deeper, his motions frantic. He wiggled his thumb in my bottom and rasped, ‘Touch yourself.’

      He didn’t have to tell me twice. I got my arm under my body, thinking wildly how insane and inappropriate this all was. And how fucking perfect and exciting as well.

      Rubbing my clit in greedy little bursts I felt him go rigid and, when he uttered, ‘Fuck me hard,’ I came. His orgasm nipping at the heels of mine as he thrust so hard my pretty taupe shoes actually did leave the floor and we were both laughing.

      ‘Wow … wow …’ I stayed sprawled across the table. There was a tickly sensation as he ran his finger up the zipper of the dress and then stroked the bare skin of my back above the fabric.

      ‘Wow is a good start.’ Mack pulled free of me and backed up so I could right myself.

      When I turned to him, the red in my cheeks was flagrant.

      ‘So?’ I cleared my throat. ‘Do you like any of those options? The dresses?’ I fluffed the pink skirt and shifted a little, every filthy thing we’d just done running through my head.

      ‘I liked them all,’ Mack growled, pulling me in gently by the delicate bodice. ‘Have to admit, though, the pink was my favourite.’

      I smiled. ‘Mine too.’