Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(76)
“Give it to me.”
It only takes two more bounces on my cock before I’m grunting out my release, my cock pumping into her. She hangs from my arms, spent and beautiful. So I pull her body to my mouth, kissing the spot where her heart pumps in her chest.
She’s panting for air more than usual, her heart pounding from exertion. There’s a sheen of sweat across her back.
“Was I a good girl?” she whispers with her mouth inches from mine.
A smile creeps across my face as I gather her into my arms. “You’re always a good girl.”
RULE #31: NOTHING GOOD LASTS FOREVER.
Charlotte
When I hear his approaching footsteps on Monday morning, a sense of calm washes over me. There is something in that sound. The repeating click-click-click cues a response in my body, a serotonin boost that puts me in an instant state of serenity. The anxiety I’ve wallowed in since waking up in his arms yesterday morning dissolves as I hear him walking into the room.
He strides up to where I’m kneeling and gently strokes my head.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” he says with the same inflection that he would say, Good morning, beautiful. Or I love you, Charlotte. And maybe I’m imagining that last one, but it sounds right in my mind.
“Good morning, Sir.”
We fit into these roles so effortlessly, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Not a word was said since Saturday night about Beau, our secret, our future, or our feelings. It’s like the conversation scared us both into silence. We came so close to ending everything, so rather than face the music and admit what we both know is coming, we slid right back into the roles we were playing before.
Keep it secret.
Deny our feelings.
Don’t think about the future.
It doesn’t feel right, per se, but since I’m still here, kneeling on the floor for him, it feels like enough. Two weeks ago, I told him I would take what I could get, and that’s still the truth.
As he sits in his chair, I wait for instructions. Normally, he tells me to work at my desk or to come sit in his lap as he works. But minutes go by in silence as I wait. The urge to see what he’s doing is strong.
Finally, he mutters, “Crawl to me.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling as I move onto my hands and knees, looking up at him as I move. His chin rests on his hand, leaning against the arm of his chair as he watches me. There’s a subtle look of approval on his face, and I breathe it in, like it’s keeping me alive.
As I reach his chair, I settle back into a kneeling position. His fingers reach out to stroke my cheek, and I lean into the touch.
“I don’t want to work today,” he mumbles softly. And when my lips tighten, fighting back a smile, he continues, “I want to play.”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply sweetly.
“On the desk,” he commands, tapping the solid surface in front of him. Climbing to my feet, I sit down in front of him, and he instantly spreads my knees, moving between them. I’m wearing a knee-length dress today, black with buttons down the front and small white polka dots. It accentuates my curves well, tight around my breasts and hips. Underneath the dress, I have on a pair of light blue lace panties.
Emerson’s hands run up my thighs, and a throbbing arousal hits me as he reaches the hem and carefully pulls them down. Bringing the blue silky fabric to his nose, he inhales, keeping his eyes on me. I bite my lip as I watch him.
Then he opens his desk drawer and drops the panties in. I watch as he pulls something else out. It’s a familiar pink silicone, and my breath hitches as I recognize it.
“I found this in your desk,” he says. “Remember this?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I watch as he wipes the toy clean and dries it. It’s hard to hold so still while waiting for something as rewarding as that toy because I know what’s about to happen. After it’s clean and dry, he holds the blunt end up to my lips. “Open.”
Dropping my jaw, I welcome the toy, and once it’s seated against my tongue he says, “Suck.” And I do, coating the silicone in my saliva. He then gently pulls it out and lifts my dress.
I can hardly breathe as I watch him. Pulling my hips to the edge of his desk, he slowly works in the round, spit-covered end, and I have to swallow down my gasp. The intrusion is different when it’s someone else inserting it, and the way he’s doing it feels almost clinical. It’s an erotic, almost dirty sensation—and I sort of love it.
Once it’s all the way in, he admires his work, touching me and running fingers over my folds. I can’t tell if he’s hard yet, and I keep trying to sneak a peek. I already know today is going to be torturously long, but at the end, when I finally have him, it will be worth the wait.
When he pulls out the small black remote I remember from last time, I smile. With one little click, the toy begins humming against my clit and G-spot, and I try to slam my legs together, but he won’t let me.
“Let’s see how long you can take it before you come.”
I want to protest, but I can’t. He’s Sir today, a little different than last time. The vibration is low, but it’s almost worse that way, building me slowly toward a climax. And the fact that I can’t react much makes it worse.
Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I clench my eyes closed and force myself to breathe. Then he begins stroking my thighs, running his hands up to my breasts, pinching each nipple between his fingers.