She squeezes her legs together at first. I run my hands up her legs, then down to her knees and I gently squeeze them.Let me in.Her legs relax just a bit. I pull her panties down and she lets me, kicks them off from around her ankles. I grab onto her ass and she is dripping wet when I lick her. I feel her tense up. She holds onto the edge of the desk. She’s already so close. My thumb keeps pressure on her clit while my tongue goes to work below, alternately gentle and vigorous, swirling around and pulsating. She’s running her fingers through my hair and then I suck on her clit, and her whole body stiffens and then releases and I dig my fingers into her flesh and push my tongue inside of her as far as it will go—I could live inside of her there—I feel the waves start, and then I hear her say “wait, stop. Get inside of me. Hurry up.” She pullsaway.
“Yes ma’am,” I say. I pull a condom out of my wallet, tear it open with myteeth.
She stands up and gestures for me to sit in the chair. I sit down, saluting her with my giant erection, and in one second she’s on top of me, pressing down onto me and it feels amazing. She does a lot of work, tightening and relaxing around my cock, her hips rocking back and forth, showing me that she’s in charge now, and we’re both breathing hard and loud and she’s there—her head tilts back and she’s so loud, “Oh God oh God oh FUCK!” and I have to force myself not to say her name because I know that would freak her out, so I grunt and groan and I thrust and I hold tight to her hips as I come and she tightens her legs around me, pressing up as close to me as possible, and it’sbrilliant.
“To reiterate,” she deadpans, once she’s caught her breath, “we are notdating.”
“No we aren’t. But we sure do fuckgood.”
“You are not wrong about that,sir.”
I smile. “Writing partners withbenefits.”
“Temporary writing partners,” she says. “With limitedbenefits.”
After I have freshened up,I return to the sofa, where she is now sitting with her laptop, in her flimsy top and boyshorts. I hear her talking, but all of the blood is rushing straight to my dick again. I want a poster of her like this. I think she’s asking me about my former fiancée. Which is interesting, because she doesn’t usually ask me personalquestions.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about it back atEmerson?”
“’It?’”
“Yourengagement.”
“Because I was starting over in a new city. I didn’t want to talk aboutit.”
“Fair enough. What was hername?”
“Courtney.”
“Of course itwas.”
“She was my first girlfriend. From senioryear.”
“You lovedher?”
“She was my first girlfriend. I was still trying to be someone else back then. Someone who belonged in my family. She was the right girl for thatguy.”
“Why did itend?”
I take a deep breath. I don’t want Erin to know that much about Courtney. Not that I have anything to hide, I just don’t want her thinking that there was anyone all that important before her. But I do want her to know that she can ask me anything, so here goes: “It ended because I told her I wanted to be a screenwriter, and that I was dropping out of business school. She moved out the next day. I haven’t spoken to hersince.”
She laughs. “You’rejoking.”
“Nope. She said she should have known I was a writer because I fucked like an alcoholic manic-depressive with nomoney.”
She wrinkles her brow, God bless her. “What does that evenmean?”
“I don’t think she knew what it meant. I was the first person she ever had sex with. But I’m sure she’s happy now. She’s married to a guy who fucks like a real estate developer onProzac.”
“Sounds like a smartlady.”
“She did the rightthing.”
“So you were sad when I metyou.”
“I was pissed. And humiliated.”You helped me to get overthat.
“I don’t blame you. I am sorry. That sucks…I’m glad you’re a screenwriter.” She says it shyly, almost blushing, like it’s embarrassing for her to say something even vaguely nice tome.
