Page 32 of The Catcher

I only had a second to squeak in surprise and dismay as he shoved his wet cock in between my breasts.

“Stay right there.”

I cried out again in distress as he rubbed his cock back and forth roughly on top of them, and suddenly I felt a hot spurt of cum between my breasts, splashing across my collarbones, and filling my cleavage, dripping down to my belly.

I looked down in shock, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him as the muscles moved in his jaw and he groaned, low and feral.

My breath sounded ragged and low to my ears.

I had seen this man get a blowjob forthirty fucking minuteswhile eating a cheeseburger and not come.

“You’re such a jerk,” I said, when he was done and had pulled out. My lips trembled as I fell back against the desk. “Now I’m going to smell like fuckingcum.”

“Good,” he said, tucking his cock back in his athletic pants and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. “That’ll keep other assholes away from you.”

I didn’t say anything. Since I was only in a skirt and hose, my knees were a bit sore. Disgusted, I turned to leave.

“Who said you could go?” I heard his cold voice from behind me as my hand hit the doorknob. I whirled around. He was leaning against the big, messy desk in the center of the office with a cigarette in his mouth.

“But I sucked your dick,” I protested.

“Yeah,” he said. “I still didn’t say you could go. Come here and talk to me.”

I closed my mouth, and leaned against the door, feeling furious and helpless.

For several long moments we eyed each other.

“Won’t the manager be mad you’re smoking in this office?” I asked as Tanner lit his cigarette.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t give a shit.” He blew smoke out in satisfaction, then he said, “so does it look like I’ll get my sponsorships back?”

“Not yet,” I replied, leaning back against the door but not trying to open it. Tanner looked relaxed and at ease now, but I knew he was very capable of chasing me down brutally.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my PR consultant?” he asked. He looked so dangerous, leaning back against the filing cabinets, the messy shock of dark hair, the corded muscles standing out under his T-shirt.

“It’s hard when you won’t take half of my suggestions,” I protested.

“Maybe you should make them with your mouth around my cock,” he said, and I felt flushed with annoyance.

“Keep hitting better,” I said. “Sponsors will be more forgiving if you’re not sucking.”

I saw him take another drag of the cigarette, his silvery-gray eyes on me. He always seemed to have his eyes on me, making me get flushed and prickly under his stare.

“My batting average is fine,” he said.

“Teams are going to be looking at the slugging percentage now,” I said. “You need to get that up if you want a long-term contract at the end of the season.”

We began to go back and forth about his stats. I should have shut up and tried to surreptitiously jimmy the lock, but I didn’t know how to do that. I just stood with my back to the door and watched Tanner Courtenay smoke, the long lean lines of his throat, the way his sharp cheekbones were sucked in with each drag he took on his cigarette.

“Get over here,” he said.

I was debating how far I dared to push him when he slipped off the table and walked toward me, long lean steps making myinsides clench. He hoisted me up without preamble and set me on the desk, stepping between my legs.

“I want to come again,” he said. “And you’re not on birth control?” he added harshly, his voice low and gravelly. It was the second time he’d made that order today. His hard fingers felt around my waist and back for a patch.

“No,” I lied again, like I had before.

“Good,” he said. “I’m going to fill up your cunt so spread your legs.”

---