between my legs. Smiling, she ran her fingers down my muscular arms, slowing over my defined biceps. Seamlessly, she segued to my ass, outlining the curvature, and then down to my thighs until she could go no further without squatting. My skin tingled beneath the pads of her fingertips. Her touch was so soft, so sensual, so soothing. So the opposite of the caustic girl who had verbally challenged me the first time I’d met her at the Met. Perhaps this was the real Allee or, at least, a different side of her.
She looked straight into my eyes. “Madewell, you have a nice body. It’s meant to be painted.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, humbled by her unusual compliment. She was no bullshitter.
Eager to see her in the nude, I reached for her blazer. She forcefully lowered my hand.
“Let me,” she insisted. I had no choice as she shrugged the jacket off and let it tumble to the floor. I had to remember that she was very independent and somewhat of a control freak. For some reason, it was difficult for her to take things from me, be it money or a favor.
“You can watch,” she said as she slowly unbuttoned her white blouse. With each button she undid, I felt myself getting hotter and hotter. At the same time, my dick was growing longer and thicker. By the third button, I could see a hint of her bra, and when she was done unbuttoning, she pulled the edges of her blouse apart, exposing her breasts in full view. Jesus! They were even more beautiful than I’d imagined. Firm and full, plumped up by the sexiest, lacy black bra I’d ever seen—the kind of bra that I least expected her to be wearing. Falling into the thick fold of her breasts was the single piece of jewelry she wore other than her watch—a gold locket on a chain.
She proceeded to unfasten her pleated skirt and pull it down. My eyes grew wide. She was wearing a sexy red lace garter belt over skimpy, high-cut panties that matched her bra. Slowly, one by one, she unhooked each garter, letting her sheer stockings slither down her toned legs to her slender ankles. She gracefully stepped out of the skirt and then yanked off her sensible work shoes and the crumpled hose. She stood before me in the bra, garter, and panties that rose on the sides to make her already long, shapely legs look longer.
Holy shit! Her body was beyond beautiful. Her creamy, unblemished skin shimmered in the candlelight, and I admired the curves and contours that made her deliciously womanly. Charlotte, in contrast, who still lingered in my mind, was a small-breasted, straight-as-an-arrow, stretched rubber band. Charlotte’s body always screamed, “Don’t touch.” Allee’s was screaming, “Take me all.” I wanted her. It took all my willpower to resist ravaging her when she loosened her ponytail, letting her dark, wavy mane cascade over her shoulders like a whimsical cape. She looked like she had escaped a Botticelli painting.
She met my gaze. “How would you describe what you see in that crap magazine of yours?”
For a writer, I was wordless. I was too shell-shocked to move my lips. Finally, I managed one word: “Hot.” Fucking hot!
The corners of her lips curved into a sexy smirk. “Madewell, for a man of words, you surprise me. You could do better than that.”
Her put-down actually turned me on. My fully erect cock twitched. I felt like a high-speed elevator going up as she slipped off her scanty undergarments and tossed them like a stripteaser across the room. My eyes never strayed from her nor did they blink.
“Fuck me now, Madewell.”
Her directness sent blood rushing to my shaft. It felt like a volcano ready to explode. I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to my bed. I laid her face up and then lowered myself to the mattress, straddling her between my knees. Her milky white breasts quivered, and her pussy called my name. As hungry as my throbbing cock was, I wasn’t ready to fuck her. I wanted to get to know every part of her.
Planting my hands on either
She looked straight into my eyes. “Madewell, you have a nice body. It’s meant to be painted.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, humbled by her unusual compliment. She was no bullshitter.
Eager to see her in the nude, I reached for her blazer. She forcefully lowered my hand.
“Let me,” she insisted. I had no choice as she shrugged the jacket off and let it tumble to the floor. I had to remember that she was very independent and somewhat of a control freak. For some reason, it was difficult for her to take things from me, be it money or a favor.
“You can watch,” she said as she slowly unbuttoned her white blouse. With each button she undid, I felt myself getting hotter and hotter. At the same time, my dick was growing longer and thicker. By the third button, I could see a hint of her bra, and when she was done unbuttoning, she pulled the edges of her blouse apart, exposing her breasts in full view. Jesus! They were even more beautiful than I’d imagined. Firm and full, plumped up by the sexiest, lacy black bra I’d ever seen—the kind of bra that I least expected her to be wearing. Falling into the thick fold of her breasts was the single piece of jewelry she wore other than her watch—a gold locket on a chain.
She proceeded to unfasten her pleated skirt and pull it down. My eyes grew wide. She was wearing a sexy red lace garter belt over skimpy, high-cut panties that matched her bra. Slowly, one by one, she unhooked each garter, letting her sheer stockings slither down her toned legs to her slender ankles. She gracefully stepped out of the skirt and then yanked off her sensible work shoes and the crumpled hose. She stood before me in the bra, garter, and panties that rose on the sides to make her already long, shapely legs look longer.
Holy shit! Her body was beyond beautiful. Her creamy, unblemished skin shimmered in the candlelight, and I admired the curves and contours that made her deliciously womanly. Charlotte, in contrast, who still lingered in my mind, was a small-breasted, straight-as-an-arrow, stretched rubber band. Charlotte’s body always screamed, “Don’t touch.” Allee’s was screaming, “Take me all.” I wanted her. It took all my willpower to resist ravaging her when she loosened her ponytail, letting her dark, wavy mane cascade over her shoulders like a whimsical cape. She looked like she had escaped a Botticelli painting.
She met my gaze. “How would you describe what you see in that crap magazine of yours?”
For a writer, I was wordless. I was too shell-shocked to move my lips. Finally, I managed one word: “Hot.” Fucking hot!
The corners of her lips curved into a sexy smirk. “Madewell, for a man of words, you surprise me. You could do better than that.”
Her put-down actually turned me on. My fully erect cock twitched. I felt like a high-speed elevator going up as she slipped off her scanty undergarments and tossed them like a stripteaser across the room. My eyes never strayed from her nor did they blink.
“Fuck me now, Madewell.”
Her directness sent blood rushing to my shaft. It felt like a volcano ready to explode. I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to my bed. I laid her face up and then lowered myself to the mattress, straddling her between my knees. Her milky white breasts quivered, and her pussy called my name. As hungry as my throbbing cock was, I wasn’t ready to fuck her. I wanted to get to know every part of her.
Planting my hands on either
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