Page 102 of Start With A Slap

“I would do anything,” she said, timbre of her voice matching his, “for this job.”

He ran a finger across his desk, following the meandering course of hers. “Would you be available to me any time of day or night?”

“Always,” she said.

His eyelashes fluttered and he tapped the desk.

She was getting almost a sick satisfaction out of telling him what he wanted to hear while she had the freedom to lie. “I could move in right away.”

He seemed to struggle with this the most, letting out a sharp breath, akin to a bitter laugh.

“And I would wear whatever you wanted me to, wherever you wanted me to wear it.”

His eyes met hers. “You must really want this.”

“I do, Mr. Mark,” she said, subtly peeling back her collar to expose more of her push-up bra cleavage. “I want this more than anything.”

His jaw flexed, and he whispered, “Show me.”

Keeping her eyes on his, she started at the top button and went all the way down, eased the blouse off her shoulders, and began to unclasp the bra.

“Slowly,” he said.

She kept her breasts covered until she brought the bra straps down her arms and off.

“Now,” he said. “Lick your fingertips and touch your nipples.”

She circled a moist fingertip around her pink areola, teasing him and herself. She felt her pussy swell and throb against the pinching nylon.

Nostrils flaring, his breath got louder as he watched her. “Spread your legs. Move your chair back so I can see.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Mark.” She pushed the chair back, leaned backward, and hooked one knee over each arm of the leather chair.

“Rub your stockinged cunt, Miss Tyler.” He tilted his head to watch with hooded eyes. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Wet,” she said, and licked her fingers.

“Get up on the desk. Now.”

She climbed on the desk, crawled over his papers and pens and her wedding ring, and let him grab her neck to kiss her and unpin her hair.

Foreheads touching, he whispered, “God, what you do to me.”

She was struck with the urge to taste him. He hadn’t let her yet and as of right now it was becoming an issue. “Stand up, let me?—”

“No.” He caught her hands at his zipper, gave her another kiss. “I’ve got a fantasy to fulfill.” He smacked the desk. “Sit.”

Fine... She’d let him have his pantyhose-ripping fantasy. This time. Aiming to not break anything with her heavy, lethal fetish shoes, she took a seat in front of him and spread her legs.

He took her thighs in his arms to slide her butt to the very edge, then pulled up his chair like he was about to dig in to a rare delicacy. That you eat with your face.

He started with a kiss. It was almost chaste, and sort of adorable with the way he looked up at her to gauge her reaction.

Possessive hands gliding over her sensitive inner thighs, he spread her legs in a wide split.

Then his warm tongue snaked out to lathe her from bottom to top and she moaned, falling on her elbows. Their gazes reconnecting, she shook and whimpered as he sampled her with a smile.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, spasming as he fastened his mouth over her sex. Her skull hit the desk. It only hurt for a second.

---