The Lie(53)

My god, I haven’t gotten laid in so long.

“Lay back,” he murmurs gruffly, pushing his papers out of the way before putting his hand on my chest and urging me down.

I lie back, the hard finish of the desk pushing into my shoulder blades while he tugs my jeans and underwear over my hips.

With relief I realize I didn’t wear SpongeBob this time, but glancing at Brigs as he looks me over, the erotic way his eyes rest on my * on full display, I don’t think he’d even notice.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “More than I imagined.” He takes his hand and slides it between my legs, his fingers skirting over my clit, before one finger slowly makes its way inside of me. He leans forward, gazing at me, drunk on lust. “And so very, very wet.”

His eyes are unnerving. I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at so sexually before. It’s almost too intimate. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing as he slowly pushes another finger inside me. I gasp, clenching around him, while the pad of his thumb grinds against my clit.

It’s f*cking bliss.

“Are you ever going to get naked?” I ask breathlessly, looking up at him.

“When I put my cock inside you and f*ck you on this desk, yes,” he says, his voice hoarse. “For now though, I want to taste you.”

He pushes a third finger inside and slowly drags it out, rubbing my wetness against his lips.

I swallow hard, shocked by how brazen he is.

“Again,” he says slowly as his eyes burn into me. “Better than I imagined.”

Then he gets to his knees and puts his head between my legs as I’m hanging halfway off the desk. His hands spread my thighs wide before he presses his fingers into my hips, holding me in place.

I’m not ready for this, for him to go down on me. It was something I fantasized about daily, but I never imagined it would happen with me completely naked on his desk in his office, him fully clothed, head between my legs.

I try and sit up to watch, utterly fascinated and turned on by the sight, but as his tongue languidly slides over my clit, washing over my nerves, slippery and wet, I have to lie back down. The feeling is too much and I feel like a sponge trying to soak up stars and lightning and everything beautiful, and it’s too overwhelming for this world.

And Brigs is relentless.

I mean, good lord, the man can eat *. He’s at me with messy precision, his lips, tongue, and occasionally those long fingers of his working me into a wild frenzy.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I can only feel as my blood runs hot, my nerves tying up in knots upon knots, pulling, pulling, pulling, until he’s groaning against me and I’m digging my nails into his head and his tongue is pushing into me in hot, quick stabs.

I’m so swollen, so desperate, that when he brushes his f*cking nose against my clit, the knots all come undone at once.

My body is a confetti cannon.

I am blasting through space, groaning, writhing on his desk as the orgasm rips through me, feeling like brightly colored pieces of me are floating down from the sky.

But the relief is short-lived.

As I catch my breath, my limbs still loose, and peer up at him as he stands between my legs, he’s taking off his shirt.

Undoing his belt.

Letting his pants drop.

He’s just in his grey boxer briefs.

Damn.

Damn.

He might as well be naked.

I can see every hard, rigid detail of his cock.

He said I was better than he imagined?

He’s a million times bigger than I imagined.

And I imagined him with something just short of a horse cock.

I swallow hard, amazed how quickly I’ve gone from spent and sated to hungry and, well, a little afraid in a matter of seconds.

Is it too late to change his nickname to Professor Horse Cock?

Somehow I manage to pry my eyes away from his underwear and take in the rest of him. He’s all hard angles and long planes, from the wide breadth of his shoulders and chest, to the definition in his abs and the way they lead to the sharp V of his hips. A dusting of chest hair thins out before becoming a treasure trail again.

He’s so manly, and his posture suggests he’s completely at ease with his body. I had teased him once, when I was drunk, wondering what he was like underneath. I’m not disappointed in the slightest. I want to run my lips and fingers and breasts along every inch of his lean, hard-earned body. I want to feel it press against mine, damp with sweat.

“Are you just going to stand there?” I say to him, feeling just a tad bit vulnerable that I’m still naked and spread eagle and waiting.

He flashes me an assured smile and pulls down his boxer briefs, letting his cock, swollen and thick, jut out in front of him.

Damn. This is now an urgent debilitating lust he’s stroked within me. The kind that wants it all hard and fast and now.

He steps between my legs, the dark, wet tip of his cock rubbing against my sensitive clit as he reaches to the side and opens a drawer. With one hand he quickly rummages through, feeling around, and pulls out a condom.

I look at him questioningly. “Is there a need for condoms in your office?”

“There is now,” he says as he tears into the foil packet. “They’re handing them out here all the time. Cheaper than buying your own.”