Page 82 of Pressure

A gasp left her lips as he let go of her hand and found her clit. She cried out as he fucked her hard and fast, reveling in his ownership of her body. "God, Lance, please," she begged, barely recognizing her own voice.

"Please what? Stop? Fuck you harder? Let you come?" he ground out as his fingers worked her clit and his cock dragged in and out of her cunt.

"Yes," she pleaded, unsure how to answer him.

He chuckled. "Come for me. Let your tight little cunt come all over my cock."

She felt her nipples straining against her bra and blouse and her pussy clenched around his rigid shaft. A few more harsh strokes of his nimble fingers and she was crashing over the edge. His poor tie was going to be useless from all her wrenching against it. She felt Lance tense behind her and knew he was going to come. "God, baby," he breathed as he lost himself inside of her.

When he stilled and eased out of her, she was still panting. She barely noticed when he untied her hands and helped her stand.

Her panties were around her ankles and she could feel his hot semen dripping down her thighs.

He pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped at her folds. She shuddered at the feel of the silk cloth brushing against her. When she was clean, he reached down and tugged her panties up and back into place.

"Shall we go to lunch, Miss Sullivan?" he said as he tossed the ruined handkerchief into a nearby trashcan and shoved his tie back into his pocket.

She grinned as he laced his fingers into hers and led her through a construction zone to the elevator down to the first floor where his driver was waiting to take them to lunch.

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