him. I stood close enough that he barely had to reach out to touch me, and watched him – mesmerised by the motion of it – handle his cock.
‘Kneel for me, Gretch,’ he said, using his instantaneous nickname for me.
I dropped to my knees, licking my lips. Quite often my eager show of need to suck cock was simply a ploy to turn my partner on. Not now. Not this time. This time I truly wanted to suck his cock. Wanted to feel the hard velvety tip of him slide along my lips like I was applying gloss. I wanted to taste that first salty drop of pre-come and swirl my tongue around the impudent helmeted tip of him. I wanted it all so much that I was already leaning in to do all of that and more.
Mack moved back just a bit and laughed. ‘Look at you. Just gagging for it. Hold on.’
Then he wrapped his hand in my hair, forming a tether, and yanked so my head went back and my eyes went to his. ‘Just so we’re on the same page. You’re going to suck my cock.’
I tried to nod, forgetting his grip.
‘And then I’m going to do whatever I want.’
Again I tried to nod. Short memory and all that. He smiled at me. The hard lines of his rugged face softening for a moment. When I smiled back, he pushed my head forwards steadily but not hard enough to hurt me.
My mouth came down, lipsticked and desperate on the soap-scented skin of his cock. I trailed my tongue over the small drop of fluid at the tip, collecting it. When I sucked the head of his erection into the heat of my mouth, he made a noise in his throat. Forcing myself as low as I could go, I ate him up inch by inch until my lips almost touched the base of his erection. His pubic hair tickling at my nose. This close to his skin he smelled like the ocean and cold air. It was a good smell and I inhaled greedily both to steady my beating heart and take the scent of him into myself.
‘Good, good,’ he said. Almost like he was talking to himself.
His hand in my hair allowed me to turn my head just enough so that I could sweep my open mouth up one side of his length and down the other, my open-mouthed kiss making his skin wet as I dragged my lips. I felt his fingers tighten in my hair, saw his muscles bunch as he tensed in my chair.
‘Stand up, Gretch.’
But I chased him with my mouth instead, managing to snake my tongue out over him to taste him one more time. He gripped my hair tight and pulled my head back. With a short push, he moved me back and rose at the same time. Big hands curled to my dress-cinched waist and lifted me gently onto a short table behind the counter. It was where I folded clothing. The antique wooden table was small – the perfect size – taller than my chair but shorter than the glass counter. He dropped me there gently and pushed my fluffy skirt up around my waist, baring me to his gaze.
‘Hold your skirt up, princess,’ he said. And then he dropped back into my chair and rolled towards me, the casters sighing on the old linoleum floor.
His mouth was searing on my pussy lips, his tongue intrusive in the best possible way. Insinuating itself into my wet folds, seeking out and finding my rigid clitoris. I gripped the lip of the table and held on tight. I didn’t want to come so fast. Fuck. Not so fast.
He wasn’t gentle or shy about it. He pressed his mouth, generous for such a hard-looking man, to the lips of my pussy and ate me in earnest. I gripped the wood beneath my fingers hard and held myself at bay. Barely. I wanted to grab him and hold his shoulders and thrust up rudely against his seeking tongue, but managed not to. I let him do what he wanted. Which was taste me – slow but not too slow, rough but not too rough – fan-fucking-tastic. I thought I’d gotten away with it, but at the last minute he pressed my thighs wide with his strong hands and sucked my clit hard, bit it gently and then thrust his tongue into my weeping cunt before sucking again.
I came with the sound you would get if a laugh and a sob had a baby. My body shook uncontrollably as the orgasm rolled through me, little pink sparkles to match my tea dress blooming in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. He held me firm with his hands on my thighs as it lessened somewhat.
‘Don’t move.’ He stood, took his heavy cock in his hand and sidled up between my thighs. His legs pressed against the table, his button and zipper scraping at me a little as he stroked the head of his cock along the soaking wet split of me.
‘Move forward some,’ he finally commanded.
I did it. Lulled and mesmerised by his voice. The easy way he commanded without sounding like a jerk or a prick.
A single swift thrust brought him deep into me. My still tight pussy eating up his erection as he drove in hard. Big hands cupping my ass through the silly fluffery of my dress.
‘Kiss me, kiss me,’ I begged, finally speaking.
He did. My shoulder and then my neck so I shivered. Then my hair and my ear, before finally bringing his lips down on mine. His tongue tasting of my pussy. The musky sweet taste of my own sex and juices.
He hauled me forward roughly, grunting like a beast as he found a place inside of me that apparently pleased him very much. ‘Good,’ he said.
‘Good,’ I echoed, though I wasn’t sure if it had been a question. I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
Mack found my clit with his thumb and my pulse with his teeth. It wasn’t hard for him to make me wetter that way. Or make me beg. His mouth was sharp and insistent as it scraped my skin. His breath rolling bursts of thunder in my ear. He pressed that tiny hard nub of flesh that made me shiver and said, ‘Come on, Gretch, give it to me.’
No one was allowed to call me Gretch. I hated dirty talking – thought it was stupid.
Until now.
He pressed my clit again, rocking his hips just so until I felt the blissful tightening of internal muscles, the flood of heat, the apex of tension and then the blissful waterfall effect of a really strong orgasm.
‘There she is.’ He chuckled as I held his big biceps with my hands. My thighs trembled and my arms responded in kind.
‘Here I am.’ I pushed at him suddenly with my forearms. Shoving him back so he had to move.
His rough mug twisted into a smile. ‘Are we going to be that way?’
‘Yes … I mean no!’ I gasped. ‘Let me up. Please,’ I finished, ‘I need –’
Someone knocked on the door and my eyes flew to the clock. Oh shit. My one o’clock consignment appointment had arrived. Our eyes met, his impossibly dark, mine frantic, I’m sure. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting.
‘Ignore it,’ I blurted and pushed him a bit harder. My feet hit the floor and my knees did a little wiggly dance that threatened to spill me on my ass. My body was still throwing off brilliant echoes of my orgasm and I could feel heat in my cheeks like fire.
‘Where you going, Gretch?’ he asked, pulling my bodice out from my breasts with his finger.
‘Nowhere, here …’ I wasn’t making any sense, so, when he shoved his big hand into the front of my fluffy pink frock and pinched my nipples so hard I almost came again, the moan I let out fit right into the conversation.
I wiggled away from him and turned my back to his mass. Heart beating so hard it was damn near all I could hear,
