know I can take him again. I clench the window frame, gazing at the sky as he fills my pussy with his cock, scorching me with heat and hardness.
I part my lips, sucking in oxygen, my wild eyes reflected in the glass. Anyone standing on the sidewalk, looking upward, will see Nate claim my body, my pale skin meshing with his golden tan, my breasts bare and my nipples taut.
The slow slide stops and he stills, his cock pulsing inside of me, every pump of blood through his veins relayed, the fit incredibly snug. “Perfect.” Nate supplies the right word. We might be opposites in all other ways, but when we fuck we become one. With Nate I fit.
This is the feeling I’ve been looking for my entire life, this sense of belonging. A normal woman would wish to prolong it. She’d embrace Nate’s slow pace, his unhurried movements, the way he leisurely pulls out and eases back inside of her.
I’m not a normal woman and I push back as I always do, bumping against him, urging him to take me harder, faster, frustrated by his restraint. I want to come now, damn it, not some time tomorrow.
Nate, my obstinate man, refuses to fuck me faster, advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating, his rhythm steady, ruthlessly regulated. He’s sticking to his plan, thinking he’s in control.
Fine. I’ll allow him this illusion for a few more minutes. I sway into Nate, following his lead, waiting and waiting and waiting until he relaxes, until he eases his grip on my hips.
Then I clench down on him, squeezing his shaft with my inner muscles, pushing him as I push everyone, forcing a response.
“Fuck.” Nate thrusts deep, smacking his hips against my ass. He rides me hard for several satisfying moments, and I pant with happiness, my hold on his cock loosening, a fine sheen of moisture covering my near-naked body.
Nate is Nate, though, stubborn to the core. He won’t change his plans for me or for anyone else. He slows his pace once more, reestablishing his control over me, over his own body, his restored restraint presenting a challenge I can’t resist.
I constrict around Nate again and he growls, driving into me deeper and deeper, slapping his balls against my skin, digging his fingers into my hips. His punishment invigorates instead of subdues me. I laugh and buck backward, throwing myself fully into the encounter, heart, body, and soul.
As we fuck, rutting like wild animals against the windowpane, condensation forms on the glass and my world narrows to Nate’s cock in my pussy, his hands on my body, his grunts echoing in the quiet office. I cling to the metal frame, my knuckles whitening, my body shaking with the force of his thrusts.
Nate bends over me, the soft fabric of his suit, the silk of his tie, the cotton of his shirt sliding along my exposed skin. He’s fully dressed from the waist up, very much the powerful executive. I’m wearing my corset and heels, shamelessly exposed, his escort, a woman he’s hired to service him, to pleasure him.
I will pleasure him. I undulate under Nate, loving him with every inch of me, not holding anything back. He cups my breasts, his hands large and rough, his hold on me confident and secure, and I arch my back, pressing into his palms, needing more sensation, more of him.
“Come for me.” Nate pinches my nipples. The sharp tinge of pain is delectable, propelling me precariously close to satisfaction.
“Make me come,” I gasp, the rebel inside of me daring him, wishing for him to prove his worth, to push back.
My challenge doesn’t daunt Nate, not even for a second. He ravishes my pussy with control-damaging thrusts, severing my hold on reality, his hard muscle colliding with my soft curves.
We breathe heavily as we fight for our shared release, my lungs straining for oxygen. I’m hanging over an emotional precipice, ready to fall, my pussy humming, my knuckles aching, my knees threatening to buckle under me. I grit my teeth, shaking with need. I won’t come without him.
I part my lips, sucking in oxygen, my wild eyes reflected in the glass. Anyone standing on the sidewalk, looking upward, will see Nate claim my body, my pale skin meshing with his golden tan, my breasts bare and my nipples taut.
The slow slide stops and he stills, his cock pulsing inside of me, every pump of blood through his veins relayed, the fit incredibly snug. “Perfect.” Nate supplies the right word. We might be opposites in all other ways, but when we fuck we become one. With Nate I fit.
This is the feeling I’ve been looking for my entire life, this sense of belonging. A normal woman would wish to prolong it. She’d embrace Nate’s slow pace, his unhurried movements, the way he leisurely pulls out and eases back inside of her.
I’m not a normal woman and I push back as I always do, bumping against him, urging him to take me harder, faster, frustrated by his restraint. I want to come now, damn it, not some time tomorrow.
Nate, my obstinate man, refuses to fuck me faster, advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating, his rhythm steady, ruthlessly regulated. He’s sticking to his plan, thinking he’s in control.
Fine. I’ll allow him this illusion for a few more minutes. I sway into Nate, following his lead, waiting and waiting and waiting until he relaxes, until he eases his grip on my hips.
Then I clench down on him, squeezing his shaft with my inner muscles, pushing him as I push everyone, forcing a response.
“Fuck.” Nate thrusts deep, smacking his hips against my ass. He rides me hard for several satisfying moments, and I pant with happiness, my hold on his cock loosening, a fine sheen of moisture covering my near-naked body.
Nate is Nate, though, stubborn to the core. He won’t change his plans for me or for anyone else. He slows his pace once more, reestablishing his control over me, over his own body, his restored restraint presenting a challenge I can’t resist.
I constrict around Nate again and he growls, driving into me deeper and deeper, slapping his balls against my skin, digging his fingers into my hips. His punishment invigorates instead of subdues me. I laugh and buck backward, throwing myself fully into the encounter, heart, body, and soul.
As we fuck, rutting like wild animals against the windowpane, condensation forms on the glass and my world narrows to Nate’s cock in my pussy, his hands on my body, his grunts echoing in the quiet office. I cling to the metal frame, my knuckles whitening, my body shaking with the force of his thrusts.
Nate bends over me, the soft fabric of his suit, the silk of his tie, the cotton of his shirt sliding along my exposed skin. He’s fully dressed from the waist up, very much the powerful executive. I’m wearing my corset and heels, shamelessly exposed, his escort, a woman he’s hired to service him, to pleasure him.
I will pleasure him. I undulate under Nate, loving him with every inch of me, not holding anything back. He cups my breasts, his hands large and rough, his hold on me confident and secure, and I arch my back, pressing into his palms, needing more sensation, more of him.
“Come for me.” Nate pinches my nipples. The sharp tinge of pain is delectable, propelling me precariously close to satisfaction.
“Make me come,” I gasp, the rebel inside of me daring him, wishing for him to prove his worth, to push back.
My challenge doesn’t daunt Nate, not even for a second. He ravishes my pussy with control-damaging thrusts, severing my hold on reality, his hard muscle colliding with my soft curves.
We breathe heavily as we fight for our shared release, my lungs straining for oxygen. I’m hanging over an emotional precipice, ready to fall, my pussy humming, my knuckles aching, my knees threatening to buckle under me. I grit my teeth, shaking with need. I won’t come without him.
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