“I have no idea how to work this,” I said as I laid my purse on the counter and stared at the thousand-dollar contraption in front of me.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said, and began expertly preparing the coffee.
“Did you work in Starbucks in college or something?” I asked.
“What? Where did you get that?”
“You know how to work that machine.”
He gave me a bemused smile. “I own one.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Must be nice.”
“Nothing but the best, Lily. You should try it sometime.”
I just rolled my eyes.
After the cappuccino was ready, we went back into the boardroom with our cups. We kept the lights off, the better to see the sights. The entire side of the room was plate glass, and all of downtown Los Angeles spread out before us. The sun had set long ago and the glow of the city lights was like something out of a movie. Headlights and tail lights sparkled like diamonds and rubies up and down the 110 Freeway.
“This was worth the whole trip,” he smiled at me.
“The view?” I asked, hoping he meant something else.
“No, the coffee,” he said as he lifted the cup.
I smacked him playfully on the arm.
He laughed, then grew mock serious. “What? I make a damn good cappuccino.”
“I hear it’s pretty easy when you have a million dollar machine to make it for you.”
“Oh really? Is that why you did such a great job of preparing it for us?” he teased.
“Fine,” I conceded. “You make a damn good cappuccino.”
“Finally, credit where credit is due. But, I have to say, there
is
one other thing that makes the cappuccino absolutely amazing…”
“What?” I asked nervously.
He stared intently into my eyes.
“…the view.”
I smacked him on the arm again.
“Aaah! I’m going to report you to HR for that!” he laughed.
“For what?”
“Physical abuse and intimidation.”
“You don’t even work here.”
“Okay, I’m going to report you to HR after I buy the company.”
“In that case, I don’t ever have to worry about it, then.”
He just grinned at me, then gestured at my face. “You have a little, uh, foam on your lip.”
Wonderful. Here I was thinking this was all playfully romantic, when in reality he was joking around with me like a good ol’ gal pal while I had stuff all over my mouth. Great.
I touched the side of my mouth and tried to wipe it off gracefully.
“Here, I’ll – just hold still, ” he said, and reached out and touched my face.
Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was his plan all along… but his finger overshot just the tiniest bit, and brushed ever so softly against my bottom lip instead.
Pleasure jolted my entire body. The warmth and softness of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the intimacy of his touch on one of the most sensitive parts of my body…
It tickled where he touched me, but there was also the incredibly sensual caress of his skin against my lip.
I immediately felt heat build between my thighs. A thrill of pleasure shot into my belly.
Especially when he didn’t move his finger away from my lips.
His eyes locked onto mine. For the first time, the mask fell away. No more joking, no more teasing; I saw the desire on his face, a look of wanting that almost bordered on pain.
He moved his finger the slightest bit more, gliding soooo slowly across my lower lip.
I moaned. Softly, but I moaned.
I blushed furiously as soon as I heard myself – it was entirely involuntary – but it was how I felt. A sound that had escaped from the deepest part of me.
I guess it fanned his fire, too, because he touched the other fingers of his hand to my cheek as his finger traced softly across my lip.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted him so bad.
I opened my lips, and I took him inside my mouth.
Just a finger – and just the tip. But I began to suck slowly, running my tongue sensuously over his skin.
And oh how I wished it was another part of his body I had in my mouth.
The sensation must have been too much for him, because his expression of desire became an almost ravenous hunger.
He pulled his finger away from my lips, moved in, and kissed me.
Took me.
Possessed me.
His arms enveloped me, one encircling my waist and the other moving up my back.
He crushed me against him – not forcing himself on me, but pressing me tight against him.
His body was heavenly, firm and strong beneath his clothes. I clutched the back of his jacket, feeling the wall of well-sculpted muscles beneath my hands.
And his mouth… ohhhhhh…
His lips pressed against mine, firm but gentle. He brushed them across my skin, the same way he had inflamed me just seconds ago with his touch.
I opened my lips wide, inviting him in.
His tongue met mine… slowly… gently… taking his time. He alternated between using just his lips, then slowly caressing my tongue with his, the most arousing kiss I’d ever had in my life.
His hand around my waist slowly dropped down to my rear end and cupped my cheek, feeling my curves, then pressed me against his hips.
Oh.
My.
GOD.
I couldn’t see anything – my eyes were closed and I was completely lost in the kiss – but there was this very long, very thick, very hard pressure between me and him. He was fully aroused – he had to have been.
Before I slept with them, I had felt several boyfriends’ erections through their pants during makeout sessions – but I had never felt something like
that
before.
Nothing that
massive
.
I had to touch it.
I was dying to touch it.
I had to feel it in my hand.
I let my fingers drift down below his belt and grazed my hand along the cloth.
No matter how wet I was before, a couple of seconds later I was drenched.
I was not what you would call experienced. One boyfriend in high school, two in college, and a guy I had dated three months before I left for Los Angeles. All nice guys. All a bit taller than me, all fairly cute, all of average build, and every one of them pretty much the same ‘down there.’ Sex had ranged from fair to good, and I had just assumed that size didn’t matter much. Except for the actors I saw in porn clips (usually viewed with my fingers over my eyes as my second college boyfriend laughed at me and tried to get me to watch), I figured 99% of the male population was built a certain way, and I probably wasn’t ever going to run into the 1%.
I had apparently just run into it.
As my fingers traced the amazing length and cupped the substantial girth of the shape in his pants, I let out another moan.
I was
sooooo
turned on it wasn’t funny.
I didn’t even know why. Porn clips definitely didn’t do it for me. Guys in those videos made me go
ewww
instead of
aaahhh
.
I guess it was that I was so wildly turned on by him anyway, that the size of him… it sparked something deep inside of me. I felt so feminine as I held him, overwhelmed by the sheer masculinity of him.
Then his hand closed around mine and forced me to grip that thick, hard shape even tighter.
He pulled his mouth away from mine and moved his lips to my ear.
“You feel that?” he growled – so low it was a whisper, the tickle of air on my skin exciting me even more.
I nodded silently, because I couldn’t speak. I didn’t trust myself – I was afraid if I tried to answer, I might start moaning again. Continuously and loudly.
“
YOU
do that to me,” he breathed. “
YOU
make me hard like that.”
Yeah… I was right. I moaned again. I couldn’t help myself.
His lips traced the edges of my ears. I was whimpering now, unable to think.
His hand on my ass caressed its way up my spine and lightly gripped my hair. Slowly, gently, he pulled my head back so that my neck was completely exposed – and he began to kiss and lick me. Not wet, just the lightest touch of his tongue as it traced its way across my skin, down my throat, all the way to my collarbones, then back up the other side.
I had to lean myself against the table, my legs were so weak.
Taking that for some sort of a sign, he used both of his hands to grab my ass and lift me up so that I was sitting on the table. Good Lord, he was strong – I felt like a doll in his hands as he just picked me up and moved me at his whim.
My hand lost contact with the bulge in his pants, but I didn’t have time to think about that. As he returned to kissing me on the mouth, his fingers started brushing the curves of my breasts through my blouse.
He would start on the outside edges near my arm and slowly spiral in with the lightest touch, then brush the backsides of his fingers over my nipples. Normally they don’t get that hard unless I’m really turned on; at the moment, I felt like they could probably cut diamonds. He kept playing with my breasts, alternating kissing me on the lips and nuzzling my ear, until I was quivering and moaning.
Then he stepped back and stared into my eyes as he undid the buttons on my blouse. Then he pulled it off my shoulders and arms until I was sitting there in my bra.
It’s funny what goes through your mind, but one single thought emerged from the overwhelming wave of desire coursing through my body:
Thank God I wore a lacy, pretty bra this morning.
And matching panties.
Of course, the bra didn’t stay on for long.
Neither did the panties.
He leaned in for a kiss, and his arms encircled me. As his lips and tongue met mine, I felt his expert fingers unsnap the bra from the back, and the straps relaxed.
I started to shrug it off, but he stopped me.
“No. I want to do it,” he said, his voice hoarse with longing.
I nodded silently. He moved down to my shoulders, kissing and licking as he slowly slid the strap off my left shoulder. Then he switched to the right. Finally he moved down to the swell of my breasts, and he ohhhh so slowly pulled away the bra like he was savoring the moment as his tongue traced my cleavage.
Then the bra fell entirely away. I felt his mouth close hot and wet around my left nipple and suck at it, caressing it with his tongue. His other hand, huge and powerful, cupped my right breast.
I didn’t scream, exactly, but I moaned a hell of a lot louder.
I arched my back towards him, my entire body quivering. He moved from one nipple to the other, then back again, sucking, licking, tracing his tongue around the curves of my breast, pressing them both together so that his tongue could move from one to the other.
Oh God oh God oh God I was about to explode.
I couldn’t really say I was
thinking
about anything – coherent thought was beyond my abilities at that moment – but I really,
really
wanted to touch him again.
You know where.
No matter how good it felt, I pushed him away.
He looked up at me, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I whispered, and moved my hands down to his belt. “I just want this.”
As my fingers closed on that massive shape in his pants, he groaned and closed his eyes.
I undid the zipper and slipped my hand inside. Through the front flap of his boxers, I could feel scalding hot skin, huge and thick – but it was the base. The tip was quite a ways away, and there was no way I was going to be able to reposition him comfortably – not with his pants on.
I moved my hand up, undid the belt, then unfastened the button at his waistline.
His shaft was so big and so hard, it still held up his pants.
I decided I wanted to get a little bit closer, if you know what I mean.
Actually, I didn’t decide. I
yearned
to get closer. I was
desperate
to get closer.
I slid off the table and knelt in front of him, the plush carpet soft beneath my knees.
I gently tugged at his pants until they peeled away from his waist and fell to the ground.
Wow.
Beneath his black cotton boxers, the shape looked even bigger. Almost intimidating as it strained against the cloth.
But there was even more good stuff besides that.
His thighs were muscular and tan, gorgeous and powerful.
I slid one hand up his leg and moved around to his ass.
Ohhhhh wow.
I hadn’t seen much of it beneath his suit jacket, but it was definitely round and curvy, a firm, solid mass of muscle.
Oh boy.
My mouth was watering.
He looked down at me, and I looked up and bit my lip. I was suddenly shy.
“Please,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice choked with desire.
That was all it took.
I traced my fingernail softly over the shape of his shaft and watched it jump and strain beneath his boxers.
I had to see it. Now.
I reached up, hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxers, and tugged a little, then moved them around to his ass, tugged a little more.
The waistband slowly descended, and I could see he had an all-over body tan, that gorgeous brown from head to toe (and everywhere else).
I kept pulling.
The boxers slid down over the perfect curve of his ass, but his penis had shifted and was now poking straight down. All I could see was the base of his shaft, a well-groomed thatch of brown curls, and the firmest, tightest abs I’d seen outside of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad.
Wow.
It was…
very
large.
Incredibly thick.
I wasn’t sure if I could even get my hand all the way around it.
Both incredible desire and, if I’m going to be honest, a little bit of fear surged through me.
But I had to see the rest of it. I HAD to.
I pulled the boxers slowly down, careful not to hurt him or stretch him too far.
I kept glancing up at his face for a hint as to how he was feeling.
He looked like he was going to go crazy with desire if I didn’t move the show along.
That’s okay, because I felt the same way, too.