“Do the roses scare you?” he asked softly, his voice almost taunting. He was gripping my thighs, pulling my legs apart from behind as he shifted me on the desk.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“I’ll tell you what,” he began, thrusting hard inside of me even as he spoke. I whimpered, shocked at the unexpected penetration. “If you can manage not to come while I take the edge off, I’ll spare you the roses. For today.” As he spoke, he was pulling out of me, dragging that perfect cock along every wonderful nerve inside of me.

He pulled completely out before plunging in again, a slow, heavy stroke that made my toes curl.

“To make it fair, I’ll make it quick,” he said, a cold smile in his voice. He pulled out and ground into me again, then began to pound in earnest.

It was painfully hard, his thick length beating into me, working me over from the inside out. Even his cock was dominant and sadistic today.

One of his hands gripped my inner thigh so hard that I knew I would bruise, the other hand on my back, pinning me firmly to the desk.

He fucked me as he rarely fucked me, to bring himself to a quick release.

When he came inside of me, a loud, raw noise escaped his throat, the sound muffled, as though he couldn’t help it. That noise brought me over the edge. I came with a whimper even as he jerked inside of me, rubbing out the last of his own savage release.

He didn’t linger, pulling out of me as I was still clenching around him. I felt warm liquid still spurting from his stiff length as he leaned against my ass.

He tugged me back until my feet were touching the ground. I had forgotten that I was even wearing heels until they touched the ground again unsteadily.

He tugged my dress higher, then pulled me up by the shoulders. “Arms up,” he murmured when I was standing again.

I did.

He pulled my dress over my head. I turned my head to watch him as he draped it carefully over his office chair.

He studied me for a moment. “Step out of your shoes.”

I wobbled out of them as steadily as I could manage.

James reached for me, hooking a finger into the hoop at my neck, his other hand gripping a handful of my hair. He tugged me across the room.

He brought me to one of the doors that led somewhere other than the reception area. I hadn’t checked to see where it led, but James quickly showed me.

He pulled me into a small bedroom with a big window. I gasped when I saw the bed.

It took up nearly the entire space, large enough to fit into one of the colossal bedrooms in his homes. It had a latticed top, with a daunting collection of restraints already arrayed.

“Your work fuck-pad?” I asked him, not hiding the accusation in my voice. He’d been a slut, I got that, but I was sick of seeing the evidence of it literally everywhere we went.

“It’s new. Before it was just a bed that I only slept in alone. If you want any more answers, you’ll be getting them later. Get on the bed.”

I scrambled onto the bed, moving to the center. I started to kneel.

“Stand up,” he barked.

I obeyed.

He gripped my wrist in his hand, raising it high but pulled out from my body. He tugged one of the black restraints from the latticed top of the bed. I was surprised to realize that it was made of rubber. It was like a soft tube, comfortable and stretchy. He wrapped it around my wrist several times until it pulled very tight. He tied it, then twisted my hand around until I was gripping it. He repeated the motion on my other hand, my arms held wide apart when he’d finished. I thought it was ominous that he’d chosen to use something so comfortable to restrain me. It told me something about those roses, though…

He positioned my feet, making me comfortable. I was trembling as he moved away from the bed.

He’d tied me so that I faced the window squarely, with a lovely view of Manhattan, but all of his movements were behind me, keeping me in the dark as to his actions.

I felt him move onto the bed several minutes later. He stayed at my back.

He made me wait for so long that I began to relax slightly when he struck.

My back bowed with the blow to my thighs. It was by far the harshest punishment he’d ever dealt me. I knew it with only one blow. It felt like I was being pummeled by a dozen hard little fists. James paused for long moments after the first blow, and I trembled.

The next blow struck my ass and made my body rock back and forth with my rubber restraints.

I whimpered, my head falling forward.

He struck again, and not even pausing, struck yet again. Tears ran down my face, and I couldn’t quite stifle a scream as he struck yet again.

It was the first time he’d ever tried something on me that was so profoundly painful that I wasn’t sure if I could take it. I was the closest I’d ever come to safe-wording when he stopped.

I was sobbing when he gripped the front of my thighs from behind, pulling my legs up and back so that I was completely suspended.

He kept me like that as he moved between my legs from behind. He pounded into me brutally, as though this too was a punishment. He drove into me again and again with angry thrusts, our only two points of contact his hands on my thighs, and his cock inside of me. He had me on the edge in moments, and I came around him with a little sob, my inner walls clenching him again and again, milking him until he bottomed out in me, coming with a surprised little shout.

I didn’t think I’d ever had a more powerful orgasm, and I sobbed with the pleasure and the pain of it as he finally pulled out of me, and lowered my feet back to the bed. He untied me quickly, pulling me down onto the bed with him. He pushed my face into his naked chest, murmuring soothing words as I cried all over the Bianca on his chest. He stroked his hands over my back, and kissed my hair, and none of it made me feel better.

He had worked me over harder than ever before, fucking me twice without a second of intimate eye contact, without a second of intimacy in general. And I had come so hard that I couldn’t stop sobbing for the loss of control. For the first time since we had gotten together, I began to worry that the things we brought out in each other wasn’t something I could live with. Or rather, the things he brought out in me.

I had always known I had a masochistic streak, though I’d kept it buried deeply, but I’d thought that being with James, doing the things we did, would help to sate those urges in me. For the first time I wondered, what if it’d only made it worse?

James seemed to sense my withdrawal. “I need to get back to work soon, but first…”

He flipped me onto my back, parting my legs and moving between them in one smooth motion. He pushed my legs far apart, then pushed them up high against me. I was watching his magnificent cock as he lined himself up at my core.

“Look at me,” he snapped, sounding furious.

I looked at those beloved eyes and got lost, as though just the sight of them could make my troubled mind go blank.

He drove into me with one smooth thrust. “Get out of your own head, Bianca. I won’t let you withdraw from me.”

He began to move inside of me, thrusting steadily, his eyes holding me captive. He circled his hips, moving that long, thick cock along the walls of my sex. I moaned, then gasped. He had so many tricks to make me come and when he tried the move again, I clenched around him with my release.

His eyes were so tender and so intimate as he found his own release long moments later, his hand finding my cheek. I knew my eyes held that same raw vulnerability.


Mr. Excessive

James tucked me in tenderly, kissing my forehead and telling me to get some sleep. I didn’t argue. I doubted I could have walked out of there, let alone gotten back to his apartment still standing, without some sleep. I drifted off.

I awoke slowly, languorously, stretching my sore body against soft sheets, my eyes drifting open with an effort. The sight that met my eyes brought me fully awake.

The black and blue bouquet of wicked roses was arranged on the pillow as though it were a real arrangement. James wasn’t in bed with me, of course—he was working, but the bouquet was apparently his replacement. I turned away from the brutal reminder of our earlier activities, sitting up.

I didn’t know what had happened to my clothes, other than that they weren’t in the room with me, and out there was an office. I found myself in the awkward position of having to wrap myself in a sheet to peek carefully into the office. I would be mortified if James had company.

Thankfully he was alone, sitting at his desk silently, a phone to his ear. He noticed me immediately. He waved me to him. I approached him slowly, clutching the huge, soft white sheet to me tightly.

He covered the mouthpiece on his phone carefully. “Morning, my love. Lose the sheet and sit here,” he said, patting the spot on his desk directly in front of his chair.

Oh my.

He had more plans for me.

I felt self-conscious as I dropped the sheet, but I forgot the feeling almost instantly as I saw his hot gaze on my body.

“So what’s the problem?” he said into his phone, his voice a little gruff.

I had to brush against him to move to the spot he had indicated. I knew it wasn’t an accident. He gave my hip a brief kiss as I moved to arrange myself.

I perched myself on the edge of his desk, facing him.

He was fully clothed in a crisp, fresh suit. Of course he’d have ungodly expensive extra suits on hand, just in case. This one was a traditional dark gray suit, perfectly tailored in the modern style. His dress shirt was the same color but with a bright white collar, his tie a shocking crimson. He looked devastating, perfect, and sinister—all at once.

He was finely dressed down to his toes, and I had not a stitch on. I was soaking wet and he’d barely even touched me. The old-fashioned office setting wasn’t helping the situation. There was something so inherently erotic about him mastering me from behind the desk where he reigned over his own powerful empire.

He used his free hand to push my thighs wider apart with a firm touch. He covered the mouthpiece of his phone again. “Lean back on your elbows,” he ordered.

I complied.

“Handle it,” he said curtly into the phone.

He rubbed my thigh almost idly, tracing the index finger of his free hand in a leisurely path to my sex.

I writhed.

He used a rather soft touch to sift through my folds. It drove me insane. I shifted against the desk until I could reach the sides of my breasts with my hands. I kneaded at my own flesh roughly.

James gave me a pointed look. That look said I was being very naughty, but he didn’t stop me.

He jammed two fingers into me without warning and I cried out.

He covered his mouthpiece. “Quiet,” he said chidingly, then got swiftly back to his phone call.

He dragged his fingers out, dragging along the most perfect nerves mercilessly.

I could barely process what he said into his phone as he plunged those expert fingers back into me. It was something along the line of, “that’s what I pay you for,” but no one could have paid me to care at that point.

He worked me with those thick fingers for long moments, still with the phone to his ear. I was on the edge of release when I felt him shift a little, leaning towards me.

“Send me the report. Yes. That will be all,” he said.

Tags: R.K. Lilley Up in the Air Erotic
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