Page 22 of Deep in You

“No.” I smirk right back. “I only want you to play with me.”

“Fair compromise.” Without another word, he steps backwards and kicks open the office door. The tiny single-desk office with our one shared computer. The computer where I first stumbled across his website. The place where this whole mess started.

It seems fitting, therefore, when he tugs me inside after him and kicks the door shut behind him.

He bends me backwards over the desk, my chest exposed, still covered in the trails of blue frosting he left all over my skin.


True to his word, he sets right about licking those clean. He delves his tongue into my navel first, swirling it around, nipping lightly at my skin as he licks up every last trace of frosting. I gasp at the sensation, especially when he returns to lick up the line he left up my abs to between my breasts, his tongue hot and wet and flat against my bare skin. He traces his tongue under my breasts, one at a time, licking up all that frosting, and then, just when I think he’s going to take my nipple into his mouth, he leans up and pulls me toward him.

His lips collide with mine before I realize what’s going on. Before I can think about what we’re doing.

My lips parts, and his tongue invades my mouth, over-sweet from the frosting. But underneath the sugar, there’s him, his scent, his flavor, unique in the world. I can’t get enough of it. I tilt my head, close my eyes, fall into the kiss. His hand buries in my hair, pulling my mouth close against his as we kiss.

Is this okay? I wonder. We didn’t kiss last night. Are you supposed to kiss your escort? Isn’t this off-limits, Pretty Woman style?

But he started it. And as I kiss him back, he seems perfectly fine reciprocating, his lips parting and closing against mine, his beard soft beneath my palm as I cup his cheek. He turns his head to kiss along my neck, and I sigh and let my head fall back again. He kisses down my neckline, along my collarbone, and his hands reach down to cup my breasts in a firm, solid grip. His palms graze my nipples, making them even harder, though that’s nothing compared to when he slowly rolls my breasts between each hand, working his fingers along until he has my nipples pinched between each thumb and forefinger, squeezing just hard enough to make me gasp with desire.

He leans down to suck my right nipple between his lips, his tongue rolling across the hard little nub. I bury my hands in his hair, arching my back. He swirls his tongue around me, teasing, taunting, drawing the pleasure out. Then he lets go and shifts sides, catches my left nipple next, while his right hand slides up to cup my right breast again.

I moan and spread my legs, and he slides his other hand between them to tease my inner thighs, trailing his rough, strong fingers up along the fabric of my jeans, tracing the inseams.

“Still don’t believe I’m good with my hands?” he asks, peering up at me.

I grin down. “Not convinced yet…”

He undoes the clasp of my jeans and slides one hand down the front of my pants. His fingertips push the fabric of my panties aside and delve right between my legs to cup my pussy. I gasp and arch forward to grind my clit against the heel of his palm, but he draws his hand back, doesn’t let me make contact fully. Not yet.

He spreads my pussy lips and trails his finger back and forth along my slit, slowly, painfully slowly. “You’ve only seen one side of what I can do to a girl, Carmine.” His eyes bore into mine, white-hot.

“What are some of your other specialties?” I ask, one eyebrow lifted.

“Well, there’s teasing…” He presses a finger against my entrance, almost hard enough to slide into me. Almost. I buck against his hand, and he releases, drawing back, tracing my pussy lips again, his finger now slick and wet with my juices. “I’m particularly good at getting girls to beg for what they want…”

I lift an eyebrow. “You want me to beg you to finger me?”

“No, of course not.” He swirls his finger along my slit again. At the same time, he presses his palm against my clit, rubbing gently in slow, smooth circles, applying just enough pressure to make my clit throb. He notices the twitch, and his grin widens. “I want you to beg me to taste you, Carmine. Right here in your office at work.”

“And what do you get out of this if I do beg you?” I ask. I’m proud. My voice almost remains steady the whole time.

He smirks down at me. “What do I get?” He touches my breast with his other hand, curls his fingers down to tug on my nipple, just hard enough to make me sit up and gasp. “I get to taste the filthiest little girl in town, of course.” He leans in, so close that his breath tickles my neck. “I’d love to eat you out right here, in your office. I bet your sexy little cake is more fucking delicious than anything else in this store.”

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