08/02/2016 00:12 in humiliation
With a crooked, shaky finger, Mr. Nelson directed Reagan's eyes toward a Christmas tree adorned in small brass bells and holly and centered along a windowed wall that showcased the entire San Fernando Valley. "Fifty years ago, right over there, I watched Audrey Hepburn share several drinks with William Holding as they looked out over the sparkling Valley."
Reagan's teeth were dry and sticking to her lips after smiling all evening. Most of their gloss was lost to politeness, but having made their way around to the two elderly men who cofounded GRG, the holding company her boyfriend worked for, she'd discovered they were like windows into L.A.'s glamorous past.
"I'll tell you something else----I know Audrey Hepburn was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world, but wow... You don't know the half of it unless you've seen her in person." He diverted his gaze entirely from Brandon, who was standing at Reagan's side, and spoke straight at Reagan. "From the minute she entered the room I couldn't pull my eyes from her. I had trouble believing those perfect, nuanced features could exist off-screen." He leaned closer to Reagan in a way that invited her to do the same. "It's a lot like that with you, my dear."
Mr. Nelson's wife patted his back. "You're embarrassing the poor child, Bill."
"Nonsense! Was I embarrassing you, dear?"
"No, no. I know flattery is ninety-nine percent protocol, or least that's what my mother liked to say. So I'll accept that I'm one percent as pretty as Audrey Hepburn." She was aware her cheeks were heating up and must've reddened, which surely revealed her embarrassment despite professing otherwise.
Brandon rescued her modesty. "It's good for Reggie to hear it from someone else, because my opinion has been branded biased."
"Brandon's actually seen what I look like first thing in the morning and didn't run screaming for the door, so his opinion is hardly credible."
Mr. Fillmore, the other cofounder, guided a hand around his wife's waist. "Well the Pimentel has always attracted the most beautiful ladies." His wife leaned against him, drawing a hand over her husband's chest. "And it's where they behave like anything but." Her hand then slapped against his chest as she gave him a look.
Mr. Nelson was quick to pick it up. "He's not kidding. His eyes bulged and his finger wagged unsteadily towards the south, cheery wood wall of the hotel's banquet hall, where a lone piano player played a jazzy version of "White Christmas". "Right there is where I spotted Joanne Woodward for the first time." He sipped his drink. "She had on dark sunglasses, but it was her, alright. And she was with Paul Newman." He winked. "But you see, Paul Newman was still married to his first wife at the time."
He then shifted his attention to Brandon, and practically yelled at him, "You need to catch me in the office and bring me up on all the mergers you own." He finished by tilting back the last of his scotch, and Reagan watched his eyes roll about in his head and worried he might collapse. She nudged Brandon to lend a hand, but then Mr. Nelson's pupils finally steadied, and what they focused on were her tits. His wife had been latched onto his arm throughout, and she shook the tweed jacket sleeve to get his attention and suggest they get some water.
"I have to watch this one like a hawk," his wife murmured as she past Reagan, and led her husband to a table full of punch bowls and trays of Asian-themed, finger foods.
"Bill never could hold his liquor." Mr. Fillmore chuckled and touched Reagan on her bare shoulder, in an I-know-you-understand kind of way. "But Bill is right," he said to her boyfriend, "Reagan is both gorgeous and delightful. This is where I tell you to marry her, but I trust you'll figure that out on your own. I like to think we hire our men bright."
"You do hire them bright." Brandon tightened his lips, grinning in a way that made light of his eager confidence. But then he looked to Reagan and the stupid grin melted away into total sincerity. "And trust me----I know she's one in a million."
Now Reagan full on blushed. "You're both way too nice."
The aged hand pulled away from her shoulder, and then he leaned in on her. "Don't let it get around, I have reputation to uphold."
His wife then jumped into the fray, seizing Reagan's hand. "I just love your dress. You could be a model in a magazine, darling. And the length is perfect." She stretched out her own sexy stocking covered leg from under a short, black skirt. "I always say, if you have legs worth showing, let 'em know it."
Mrs. Fillmore was in her fifties and still looked fantastic. She was clearly a second wife, or maybe even a third. She then pinched Brandon's cheek. "And they made the right choice hiring you. I dare say, if your date wasn't so drop dead gorgeous I might try to show you what us old gals are made of."
"Ha haaaa!" Mr. Fillmore guffawed, his baritone voice waking up the whole room. "Come on Barb, let's let the kids mingle with the other youngsters."
"Yes, and we should check on Bill. He really didn't look too well," she added, and after a quick peck on the young couple's cheeks, she and the firm's cofounder walked off.
Once alone, Brandon pulled Reagan in for a hug. He embraced her tightly, crushing their bodies together. She squeezed him back, but not quite as tight----they were in the middle of his work party after all. He then moved his lips to her ear. "Fuck was I nervous. You have no idea how those two can be."
"You did great," she whispered back. "They really seem to like you."
"Ha, they've never said a word to me before tonight. I'm pretty sure it was all you, babe."
"Shut up already, and quit selling yourself short."
He stepped back and looked her over. "No, really, that dress is... Well it's hard not to notice the perfection inside."
"Oh really? So you no longer think I look like I should be out clubbing?"
He shook his head and laughed. "I know what I said, but look around----this is a very different crowd than at your office Christmas party. I mean, that is a form fitting dress and even I can't pry my eyes from your cleavage. I half expected them to drop dead from heart attacks."
"Ha. They were looking at me like a daughter."
"Yeah, the kind of daughter who sends their dad to an early grave."
He slipped a hand over her ass, knowing she was backed close enough to the wall to block anyone's view. "There's another couple of guys I need to show you off to. You ready?"
"More rich old men?"
"Not these guys. They're a couple of young hotshots like me. They aren't part of GRG. They're mainly corporate financiers, but we're merging a few assets together with their group."
As he led her across the banquet hall into the attached bar, she spotted the four gentlemen from clear across the room. She'd actually noticed them earlier----or at least the tall handsome blonde. She'd seen the blonde somewhere before, and his presence came with a very unnerving feeling, like bumping into an old flame.
"Have I met them before?"
"Doubt it. We're just finalizing the merger now. Something wrong?"
"Oh no, I was just wondering if I'm expected to remember names."
"Don't worry----these guys are way easier going than the partners. They seem to love the ladies, too, so they'll eat you up. Honestly babe, the hard part's over and you did fantastic."
When they reached the men standing inside the hotel bar, Brandon shook hands as she displayed her sweetest, warmest smile.
"Doesn't her smile remind you of Jennifer Garner's? She's got the greatest dimples."
She rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. These guys were all truly good looking and probably dated pretty young women all the time.
First she was introduced to Steve, who had a dense build with an exceptionally puffed out chest, although he didn't appear to be puffing it out. He was gaunt around the cheekbones, and under his brow, and it pronounced the muscles lining his thick, wide jaw. His ruggedly handsome face coupled with his black, black hair and shadowy, Italian eyes caused Reagan to see him as the well groomed, handsome villain in a Bond movie. He was six-two at least, and his hand was huge. It engulfed hers as they shook. She instantly knew he was the one in charge.
"Very nice to meet you."
"Glad to meet you, too."
The next two were Samuel and Kai, both around six feet, lean and well built. Samuel was black with high cheekbones that gave him a suave wisdom. Kai possibly had a hint of Asian descent that streamlined his eyes and smoothed over his cheeks. He also had a light thin mustache that hooked down into the corners of his smile.
Samuel introduced himself as he shook her hand, and said, "Wow, you are straight off the pages of Vogue."
She looked to her boyfriend. "If one more person compares me to a model, I'm going to suspect bribery."
Kai then took her hand. "Pleased to meet you----and you can trust that nobody's paid me when I say you are stunning. Your boyfriend's a sharp guy and a very lucky man."
She could feel her cheeks burning again. "Well you are all very handsome yourselves."
Then a final hand appeared before her, and she looked up to see the tall, gorgeous blonde. She struggled to force a smile. She was sure she'd seen him before, and the memory seem to stem from a work related nature. But that was impossible, because Brandon had only recently met them and she knew by name all thirty-two employees at the design agency where she worked.
The way he looked at her didn't help to alleviate her concerns any, either. He flashed his straight, white teeth, the corner of his mouth digging higher into his left cheek and exaggerating the angle of his strong jawline, and she read mischief in his brilliant-blue eyes. Definitely mischief, she wasn't making it up. He knew her, that was for sure, but from where he wasn't letting on. She then knew for certain that if she could remember him it would cause her horrible embarrassment.
"I'm Patrick, glad to meet you."
"Yes. It's a pleasure."
"So are your eyes blue or green? I thought they were blue, but now that you're closer, they seem almost green."
Her boyfriend slid a hand up her back. "They are blue, but it's the strangest thing, they change color when she's embarrassed. It's like blushing."
"When I get emotional," she corrected. They also turned when she became horny, but she wasn't telling Patrick and his workmates anything about that.
"What's got you so emotional?"
The boldness of Patrick's question caught her by surprise, and she deflected, "My lack of drink."
Brandon laughed. "Alright. Anybody else? This rounds on me." He stayed a moment longer to get their orders and then left for the bar.
Trying to disengage Patrick's forwardness, she asked Steve, the large chested guy, about the nature of their company, and he explained, "We started doing mostly auditing, business analysis and risk assessment for larger holding companies like GRG, but our capital grew, so we rolled it into some companies we were assessing, leveraged several sizable yields and became small time players ourselves. Now we're merging our acquisitions in with GRG in hopes of growing our holdings."
Patrick chimed in. "Yeah, we're hoping these old farts can fill up our pockets as fast as they fill up their Depends."
Reagan laughed, but quickly put her hand over her mouth to silence herself. She then removed it and giggled. "Sorry, I've been in dignified mode all night. I forgot I'm allowed to laugh at jokes that are actually funny. So why are you boys all by your lonesome in here when the party's out there?"
"Well..." Steve began, and then looked at his buddies before continuing. "The ink hasn't dried on the contracts yet. Our lawyers kind of ran into an issue, so we're laying low until we can get it resolved."
"Oh no! Well let Brandon know. He'll straighten it out. I know he will."
"I hope he can, because these tight-assed blue-hairs didn't even provide an open bar. What's that tell you?"
"He can help. He's really good, and they love him here. You guys should enjoy the party, and I'm sure Brandon will cover your drinks, too."
"Sweet!" Kai chimed in.
Patrick then graced her bare upper back with his hand. "So Reagan, how about you? We've learned you're not a model, but I'll go out on a limb and say you are involved in fashion in some way. Maybe advertising?"
Talk about hitting the nail on the head. "What makes you say that?"
"That dress, the sleek bob cut, and just a hint of makeup. You seem very dialed in."
He was scaring her now. Who the fuck was he? "Impressive! I actually do work for a design agency, and we handle local ads for Sacks, Barney's of New York, and a few other fashion staples."
He smiled again, driving his left cheek up into his face to form the sexiest dimple.
"So where are your dates?"
Kai's subtly Asian eyes went moony, "Couldn't find a sitter at such late notice."
She turned to Samuel, the dark skin on his face tightening away from his mouth in a smile, making his cheekbones appear even higher. "My girlfriend's at her sister's. Her sister just had a kid, and she's helping out."
Steve took a deep breath, his chest actually puffing out now. "I'm single as of last month."
"Oh shit! I'm sorry."
Patrick waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing to be sorry about. I got my wingman back."
Steve shook his head. "I'm your wingman? See, I always thought of it the other way around."
Kai then butted in. "Oh great, we're back to this game. If this is how it's going to be again, I'll lament your girlfriend more than anyone."
Brandon returned with the drinks and Patrick's hand slid discreetly from her bare back. So he'd known it was a tad inappropriate or he wouldn't have felt the need to remove it. She even felt a prick of irresponsibility for allowing it, and stammered, "Honey, Steve says there's an issue with whatever deal they have with GRG. Do you know anything about it?"
"First I've heard. What's up?"
Steve smiled and half rolled his eyes like it was no big thing. "The deal as discussed had a few hiccups going to contract. My lawyers are saying there's a cap on our percentage of Titan Matrices. And those are the guys we brought to the table."
"Fuck! I have a pretty good idea who might be behind this. I can clear it up."
"Maybe I can even get a few handshakes tonight."
"No, that's alright."
"No, really, I'd rather knock it out now than have it waiting for me to deal with in the morning." He kissed Reagan on the forehead. "Reggie, would you mind staying here with our friends while I bust a few skulls?"
She could see Patrick's smile grow, and her words caught in her throat as she told her boyfriend it would be fine.
"Great! And I've got a tab at the bar, so whatever you need, guys. Reggie, make sure they're taken care of, OK."
"Rock on!" Patrick exclaimed, looking totally amused and giving her the once over. A tingle caused her to retract her belly, even though she had no belly to speak of.
It seemed like only seconds after he left that some of the politeness surrounding her slipped, and she realized the guys were more than a little concerned about the merger. Kai then spoke up, "Think he can do it?"
Steve shook his head. "Doubtful. If my hunch is correct it's that Jacob dude who wants Titan for his portfolio. And guys like Jacob eat pussies like Brandon for breakfast." He then snapped his attention to Reagan. "No offense. Brandon's a great guy, but you know..."
Patrick's hand returned to her back. "What do you mean no offense, man? What wasn't offensive about that?"
It was good Patrick said something, because her hackles were raised so bad she might've said far worse.
"You're right. Sorry Reagan, we're getting into bed with a new set of partners, so you can imagine we're all a little on edge. And Brandon's a nice guy, and it's nothing personal, but he's so nice it tells me he hasn't been screwed around the block yet."
"You know what, Reagan, Steve has a hard time separating business from pleasure. Why don't you and I take a walk and let these guys discuss their newest bed partners."
His hand circled her back in a let's get a moving way. She would've stepped free of it, but Steve's comment burned and she needed to be away from him, and so for that moment it slipped her mind just who she'd be getting away with.
They began walking, but before taking two steps, Steve grabbed a hold of Patrick's arm and stopped him. He didn't say anything, he just locked eyes with Patrick and shook his head in warning. Patrick only smiled, clearly unfazed. They didn't need to speak in order for Reagan to understand what was being communicated. Patrick was not to seduce their new partner's girlfriend, and she found it horribly insulting he thought her naïve enough for it to even be an issue.
"Relax dude," Patrick said, shrugging Steve's hand off his shoulder. "I know what I'm doing." He then led her towards the other end of the bar, while she secretly hoped Steve would not relax, and in fact stew on it until her boyfriend returned, announced everything was straightened out, and proved Steve to be the big, over-bearing asshole he was. She even gave him a flirty little wave as they left, placing a cherry atop his piles of concern.
"Let's step inside here for a minute." Patrick extended an arm, presenting a darkened room attached to the north side of the bar. A velvet rope blocked it off, and from the rope hung a sign.
-Breakfast 7AM to 11AM
-Lunch 11:30 AM to 2PM
"Yeah, but it's got a better view."
He wasn't kidding, a long window made up the back wall of the room and offered a view down the hillside and a panorama of the lit up Valley floor.
"I should probably stay here in case anyone is ready for another drink."
"Speaking of, it looks like you could use another."
She hadn't realized she'd been steadily sipping on her White Russian since it arrived, and now sipped at a tumbler of milky ice.
"I should probably slow down."
"Slow down?" He took the final sip of his bourbon. "I'm empty too. Sit the next one out and join me this round."
"Fine, but put it on Brandon's tab. He'll kill me if I let you guys buy your own."
Patrick stepped away and she pulled out her phone. Illuminating its screen was a message from her boyfriend.
-Sorry babe. You hanging in there? Jacob is really digging in his heels. I might need my senior on this. Don't let the guys know any of this, tho.
She tapped at the little screen and texted back.
-I'm fine. Take as long as you need to do whatever it is you need to do.
She thought for a second about Steve's comments and how badly she wanted him to eat his words, and sent a follow up.
-Don't hand it off to Hal, OK? You can handle Jacob without your senior taking all the credit again. I know you can. Love you!
Patrick returned with the drinks, and presented hers by rattling the ice inside the glass. He then raised his. "To pleasure before business."
She didn't like the way he said pleasure, and offered, "Here's to your successful merger."
He paused before drinking. "Those are probably the most prosaic toasts I've ever heard, how about we just toast to your green eyes."
He drank before she could object----leaving her cheeks to burn once again and surely her eyes richened into a shade of malachite. He pursed his lips like there was something more he wanted to say and invited her to wonder what. She hated to admit it, but he was charming in his own arrogant way, and it stirred her to confront his cunning smirk, "What? What's so funny?"
"There's something, what is it?"
"OK, there is something, but I can't ask here." He gestured with his head towards the closed off dining area. "In there."
"What on earth are you talking about?" She was really afraid now. With him standing so close she could see he was even more gorgeous than she'd previously thought, and his elusive familiarity was definitely a sexual one.
"It's just an embarrassing question, is all. And I'm not sure exactly how..." He flashed his clenched teeth in awkward frustration, a look she hadn't expected from such a poised, self-assured, good looking man. It made him human and she appreciated that. "It'll just be easier away from the guys is all."
"Really? It's that bad?"
He closed his eyes and laughed. "No, but you'll know why I'm hesitant soon enough."
His gaze rolled down the front of her dress, and his eyebrows relaxed in a way that made her think he was having a fond memory. Watching him jogged a memory of her own, and she raised her eyebrow and bit her lip, seeing herself standing naked before him, the light from a computer screen turning her flesh blue.
But that was stupid, out of seven lovers only two were one night stands and she could still see their faces in her x-rated, mental snap-shots of those two, very long nights. It was just the way Patrick looked at her, so confident, so knowing, she was inventing memories to explain his presumptuousness.
She offered him her hand. "OK, you win, lead the way."
He unclasped the velvet rope and she stepped into the dim deserted dining room with him. He then led her over to the windowed wall, and they both took a moment to marvel at the panoramic view of the Valley. It was an awe-inspiring, endless grid of street lamps and glowing signs. She imagined some obsessive-compulsive deity plucking the billions of stars in the universe and arranging them like a Christmas display across the black velvet basin.
"Pretty amazing, huh?"
"It's weird to think I work somewhere down there, and that one of those little tiny offices is where I sit at a desk and dream about being someplace else."
"I know what you mean. I sit bored behind a desk somewhere in that mess too. I like my job, though."
"Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. I like working with startups----helping them get funded. I don't think I'd do anything else, but if I could do it on a boat..." She could see his reflection in the long window, and his teeth gnashed together behind his smile. "OK, that's the 405 and there's the 101, so that other big vein of red and white lights has to be Ventura Blvd. I bet I can follow it clear to my office."
"Alright, as pretty as this is, I have to know what is so embarrassing you had to drag me in here."
"Dragged?" The corners of his smirk curled into a patronizing flourish. "Enticed maybe. And I'm getting there, just give me a second, I've almost pinpointed my office."
He pressed a finger against the glass as he announced the intersection at Laurel Canyon. He put his other hand on her cheek and leaned her in close, so her eyes aligned with his fingertip and the intersecting beads of light off in the distance. Her black, straight hair brushed the side of his face, and in the reflection she saw strands sweeping over his lips as they parted. The last drink cushioned reality, but her heart still beat so strongly she wondered if he felt her pulse in her cheek.
"Right there, see it?"
She suddenly realized where he was pointing, and her heart drummed faster and harder as she again conjured up a memory of herself standing naked. No fucking way!
OK, so there was one incident that would cause Reagan to die of embarrassment, and it took place in the tiny building just above his fingertip. But not even Brandon knew that precious little secret. She was just being paranoid----there was no way Patrick was leading up to that. He couldn't possibly be one of the guys who....
She broke away. "You are some kind of flirt, aren't you?" She patted her hair down, straightening her perfect black bob.
"Guilty as charged. I can't help it. Sweet talking is just what I do. It's my gift."
She chuckled. He was just so boldly arrogant. "Well I should probably get back to the party."
"I thought your boyfriend wanted you to stay with us----make sure we were well taken care of."
"Is that another one of your gifts, twisting meanings around?"
He held her by the shoulder, applying almost no pressure. "Look, I know you're unavailable, and I'll let you go, but there's still something I need to ask."
She swallowed hard. Patrick had the kind of eyes that could see right through a person, and she drew a finger towards the edge of her mouth, desperately trying to convince herself he couldn't possibly know what she'd been up to in her office.
"OK." She trembled, and the trembling affected her voice. "What? What do you want to know?"
His smile climbed the right side of his face and he lightly massaged her shoulder. She allowed him to, because the way he was putting the moves on her he had to have some really juicy ammo backing him up.
"Just one thing first. I just want to actually point out my office." His finger tip touched the glass again and a light fog surrounded it. "It's the horseshoe shaped building. That one, right there, just off Laurel Canyon. See it?" His head came beside hers again, and they both stared past his finger as life evaporated from her body into a vacuum of relegation.
"There's a little courtyard inside of the horseshoe that was left as a concrete slab. So Steve and I put up a basketball hoop and play a little ball after work two nights a week."
She recalled the courtyard in her mind. Whenever she'd grown frustrated with a spread for a client, she'd taken a break from her computer screen to stare out of her floor-to-ceiling, office window and imagined how it could be spruced up with trees and a small garden, and maybe even a very small pond. It would've been a pleasant place to eat lunch, instead of a sparse white slab between the nice office buildings where leaves collected. But when she'd seen the two guys wheel in a portable basketball hoop not fifteen feet from her window and then leave it there, she'd finally accepted the property management would never do anything with the ugly neglected space. The dream was dead.
"We share the building with a design studio, and first evening we shoot hoops I noticed two girls working in neighboring offices at the head of the courtyard." His lips neared her ear, and he whispered in a seductive tone. "One was pretty, but the other was out of this world gorgeous."
Obviously he was pressing her to admit it was her, but she remained silent. It was all she could do as she recalled the evening Janet had come next door to her office, sat on her desk, openly stared at the two guys playing basketball, and said, "Looks like our offices finally got a view." The guy who must've been Patrick had then peeled off his jersey and tossed it to the side, causing Janet to smirk and announce, "Well, there's nothing distracting about that, huh?" Reagan had given up on getting any more work done, but couldn't bring herself to look directly out the window like Janet, even as Patrick came running towards them and leapt up, stretching towards the basket. From the corner of her eye she'd caught the muscles denting outwards all along his torso, but payed no attention to his face. Janet had giggled. "God, he's really something, isn't he?"
Reagan's thoughts returned to the hotel and the magnificent view of the Valley when Patrick placed a second hand on her shoulders, and gently kneaded deeper into her tense deltoids. Again she didn't resist, still too petrified to move.
"I'd always wondered if we were bothering the two ladies, but then it was after five and they were free to go home, and yet they never did. I had to wonder if they didn't stay late on purpose. I know the pretty girl did, because she'd spin her chair around and just watch, but the drop dead gorgeous one... She seemed more reserved. At least that's what I thought." His lips actually nudged her ear. "But I think I'm wrong about her. Very wrong!"
Reagan took a deep breath, readying herself to step away and tell him she had no idea what he was talking about. He wouldn't believe her, but she had to deny it. She opened her mouth, prepared to speak out, but then exhaled deeply as his fingers seemed to melt into her back and a cool burn raced up from her pelvis, leaving her knees too wobbly to move. The burn was so strong, in fact, she had to clamp her humid thighs together, and that's when she felt him lightly press his slacks into the butt of her stretchy dress.
"It turns out the gorgeous one liked to either go running or hit the gym after work. I know because every night at five-forty-five she'd lower the blinds and then get dressed." His hands slid down her arms, his fingers grinding into the springy muscle. "I know this because when November approached, and dusk set in earlier, the light inside her office seeped through the slats of the blinds."
His hands lowered to her hips, until his fingers rested on her pelvis bone and then his thumbs began digging into her low back. "There was just enough space between slats to make out the figure inside. Not enough to see any detail, but I could tell by the way she moved she was slipping out of a dress and unfastening her bra. Steve thought about knocking on the window and letting her know the blinds weren't as private as she thought, but I convinced him it would only embarrass her and ruin a good thing."
His thumbs touched lower, burrowing into the top of her butt cheeks. His cock firmed up inside his slacks, and she could feel its large shape aligned to the crack of her ass. Light headedness caused her to lean back against him, and he took that as a cue to nuzzle his cheek against hers.
Fuck, was she ever getting turned on, but she should feign innocence and slap him in the face for insinuating such trash. Even if it caused bad blood between her and her boyfriend's new partners, this had to stop before it became something even worse. No matter how good it felt to be against that body she'd inadvertently marveled over the last couple months, someone could look into the dim deserted dining room at any moment, and they'd see his hands on her hips holding her against his groin as he pressed his cock against her ass and whispered into her ear.
There was no other option than to end the moment, and she began to turn away from him, but then a hand raced up to her cheek and he spoke to the side of her face. "I was right. That gorgeous woman knew what she was doing, because each time we played ball after that the slats in the blinds widened. And as long as we kept dribbling and shooting, we were treated to everything she had."
A palm swept down her short, blood-red dress to her thigh. It stayed still a moment, luxuriating in the smooth tight feel of her leg. He then took hold of the silky fabric, pinching it between thumb and forefinger, and brought the dress upwards. She watched her own faint reflection, as the hem neared her panties.
"That girl was fucking hot and she wanted us to know it. She had to be aware those half opened blinds didn't hide a damn thing. And she seemed to take longer and longer getting dressed. There must've been a full length mirror on the wall, because she'd stand in front of it and check herself out. Needless to say, we did the same."
Her hem moved to her belly, and his other hand landed softly on her black, lacy panties. His fingers teased at the miniature black ribbon lying flush and center, and then he inched them into the waistband and threatened to pull it downwards.
It was too much. A line had been crossed. "What makes you think I'd be interested in hearing about this woman?" She began to step forwards, but he pulled her hips back against him. In the process her short dress was lifted higher in back, clearing her butt. The entire lower half of her dress was now up around her waist, and his dick was close to hard and crushed between her thong exposed ass cheeks.
"The woman had a very nicely groomed... What's a good way to put it? She kept only a very thin strip to point the way----very distinctive and memorable." His thumbs stretched the waistband of her panties outwards. "Shall we?"
She took hold of his hands, stopping him. "Please don't." Her voice was weak and unconvincing. She saw herself in the window, in his arms. She saw her skimpy black panties like tissue paper about to be snapped apart by his long, stout fingers. She wanted him to lower them, find the thin strip of pubic hair underneath and prove himself right. A dirty heat seethed in her pelvis----a inner burst of diesel fumes that circulated throughout her legs and chest, leaving a tingling residue in its wake. She craved to be exposed... again. But she couldn't allow it. She just couldn't.
"I had my doubts at first, but you wouldn't look me in the eye. And then you followed me in here..."
"If I'd known who you were I never would've."
He laughed. "Yet you did. And I find it even more interesting you'd step away from your boyfriend with a complete stranger."
Her palms flattened over top of his hands, releasing their control and caressing the fingers holding her panties. His thumbs were still inside and in contact with the sensitive skin at the peak of her thighs.
"You have the whole Valley watching from up here. Show them what you showed me." He nibbled her earlobe, and she exhaled a creaky moan. "Let them discover what a hot pussy you're hiding in there."
"Pussy" didn't sound vulgar on his whispering lips. In fact it sounded so sensual she had to repeat it. "My pussy..."
"Your hot little pussy."
His thumbs glided downwards, her panties going with them. They paused at the thin strip of pubic hair and her breath paused, too. He began humming, humoring himself as he kissed her cheek, but then with a quick jerk he exposed her pussy to the brilliantly lit Valley beyond the long spans of window. She gasped when he did, and his humming shifted gears, becoming a little sinister and divulging the wickedness in his intentions.
She could hear voices from the bar, reminding her again that at any moment someone could peek in. And as she stared at the reflection of her pussy in the clean glass, she pleaded, "Patrick! Someone will..." His mouth came down on top of hers. She instantly gave in. She'd been bewitched by him for so long she didn't have to think twice about it, and their tongues roughly tore at one another. He sucked on her lip and she bit back. God he was so sexy she just wanted to devour him.
He then lowered to his knees, sliding her panties down her thighs. They passed her knees, glided down her smooth calves, loosely fell past her ankles and then he assisted in lifting her black pumps off the floor----first one and then the other----until the skimpy black thong cleared the last pointed toe.
He stood up and kissed her neck. "You're shaking. Let me get you another drink."
She was just beginning to feel the last, but returning to the party would return her to her senses. At this point being around other people would be the only way to return to her senses and stop what had gone far too far. And it had to be stopped. He had to be stopped. He had to be!
"Yes please." She turned, breaking free of his hands to face him. "I could really use one."
She began to walk away, but he took hold of her shoulders and prevented her next step. Her black thong dangled from his hand and hung down along her arm. "Allow me." His blue eyes focused on her so powerfully she felt like she was being hypnotized. "Brandon's buying, so at least let me do the fetching." He then sidestepped and released her shoulders. He paused and slipped the black panties into the pocket of his slacks. "I'll just hold onto these. I'll consider them my bearer bond." His smile broke big. "I suppose you don't know much about the market, but I bet your boyfriend would find that pretty fucking funny."
She doubted that. Without another word she watched Patrick walk out towards the doorway and back into the bar area. She fixated on how his broad shoulders smoothed out his deep-mustard button down, revealing the classical shapes along his back, and how his black slacks flowed with his confident relaxed gate and hugged his tight buns. It was distressing watching the gorgeous man step through the velvet rope and leave, especially knowing panties were in the pocket of those tailored pants----her panties! And god her dress was way too short for this game.
It was crazy! What was happening? When she'd undressed in front of the office window it had felt safe. They had been outside and she'd been protected by the pretense of the blinds. She'd accidentally given them a show, even if she'd been more obvious than she'd thought. But blinds didn't exist here, nothing separated them, and Patrick was exactly as dangerous as she'd imagined. Her libido was like a tightly wound spring as she replayed the moment his tongue had entered her mouth and he'd slipped her panties to the ground. She then looked back out at the Valley and confronted her own reflection again. She looked like a ghost in dream. She felt like a ghost in a dream----a wispy apparition of her inner dirty heat. The reality of what just happened hadn't yet set in. Maybe it never would. When she'd undressed at her office things had only grown less real in passing time. Her mind treated it as something that had happened to one of her girlfriends, not her. If she'd managed to look directly at their faces it would've made it all very real, but she hadn't, and as a result she'd never been rationally present.
She placed her hand on her tummy, where the sides of her cotton chiffon dress snuggly converged to form an hour glass. Goddamn she looked good. Her hips tilted right and her thin waist snaked left, offsetting her small torso. The scoop neckline displayed her perfect cleavage and encased her tits so firmly that her C-cups pressed into one another like the opposing Cs in the Chanel logo. And that older woman was right, she did have great legs and the short dress did show them off well. Her nightly run provided a tight, toned shape and sexy, gentle curves. Really her body was always a step above her girlfriends', and they were all beautiful woman in The Biz.
As she stared at herself superimposed over the Valley lights, it dawned on her Patrick had known what the grand view of the city lights would do to her. The urge to be naked in front of millions hit strong. And was that so wrong? She'd had this conversation with herself before, and previously decided there was nothing weird about showing off, not with a body like hers. Even if just one pair of eyes traced her young, fantastic figure and lingered on her bare breasts, the dirty heat would smolder in her like a kiln. And there couldn't be a more desirable pair of eyes than Patrick's wicked blue ones. Her hand lowered until it rested over her crotch. What if he returned to find her dress collapsed on the floor, and her standing there in that vast deserted room completely exposed to the city below. She tucked two fingers between her legs, the cotton chiffon stretching around them. Her mouth dropped open as she breathed in a quick, audible gulp of air. She held them in place with just enough pressure for her pussy to circulate burning heat around them. She closed her eyes, thinking of her panties balled up in the pocket of his slacks. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, she was losing it! Patrick played her so smoothly. She wasn't strong enough for this. Fuck!
"Goddammit, Brandon, where the fuck are you?"
On the evenings she'd put on a show for the boys and their basketball, she'd make it up to her boyfriend with a wild night of sex. He never knew what aroused her to become so insatiable, nor would he tonight, because tonight she would be tearing off his clothes and making love to him on the living room sofa. Whatever game she was playing with Patrick, it would have to end with Brandon. Her eyes closed, and conjured up Brandon's face. She envisioned the ceiling behind it, as he lowered himself inside her. She breathed out a long sigh of relief. So what if he always complained about her house keeping and piles of magazines, he was a gentle kind lover who would do anything to please her. Brandon was worth a thousand Patricks, she needed to remember that. She needed to get her panties back and stop this. It was time to return to her boyfriend.
Her nostrils flared as cool air expanded her ribcage, and then her eyes shot open, hearing a noise from outside. She almost died when she saw Kai and Samuel wandering onto the stone patio area twenty feet below the dining room. It was a short patio that ran out to the edge of the hill, and she only had to step back a few feet in order to recede from their view.
She then got a second scare when Patrick's voice boomed from behind her, and she spun around frantically, almost knocking the drinks from his hands.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Everything OK?"
"Yeah. I just didn't hear you there."
He handed her the White Russian, and she immediately took it down a third of the way. He walked towards the window, and peeked down at Samuel and Kai.
"Did those fools spook you? They love to get high. Don't sweat 'em." He then waved down at the guys.
"Don't! They can't know I'm here."
"They already saw us come in together."
"Oh no, this is bad. This is real bad."
He walked back over to her and tapped his glass with hers. "Here's to being real bad."
"I'm serious----we need to get back to the party. Let me have my panties."
"OK, OK." He swept a hand down her cheek, clearing the black hair and revealing more of her cheekbone. "Just finish this last drink. And we still haven't gotten to my question." He then caressed the small of her back. "Let's move back there if it makes you more comfortable." The caress turned into a firm, guiding hand, and he led her to the end of the long room. If anyone walked into the room, they would immediately be seen, but they were just far back enough from the window to remain hidden from Samuel and Kai down on the patio.
She took another big sip of her White Russian, taking it down a third more. She licked the cream from her lips, and then Patrick ran a finger along them, apparently getting a spot she'd missed. He then brought the dripping finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.
She gulped, and in a somewhat shaky voice, informed him, "My drink's running low, so you better ask whatever you're planning to ask."
"Alright, here it goes----last month when Steve and I were out playing ball behind your office-"
He laughed, shook his head, and played along. "OK, behind the strange, gorgeous woman's office. And this strange gorgeous woman's blinds were almost wide open, and just as she finished undressing, she went to her purse and pulled out her phone to make a call. And for the next ten to fifteen minutes Steve and I were treated to the sight of her exploring her fine body in the mirror as she talked on the phone."
He stepped closer, and with her back to the wall she couldn't retreat. He then took her clutch purse from her hand, set it on the table next to them and leaned in to whisper. "So who do you think she was on the phone with?"
His lips settled on her neck, and she felt herself weakening. She should've just left while he was gone, panties or not. He then kissed his way up to her ear. "You haven't answered."
Oxygen seemed to be in short supply, but she creaked out, "Her boyfriend?"
"That's what I thought, too." He reached for her clutch bag again, opened it, and pulled out her phone. He pressed Brandon's name under the quick dial and it started dialing. He handed it to her and then slid against the wall, positioning himself behind her.
Brandon answered as Patrick's hands took hold of her waist. "Hey babe. I'm still sorting this mess out. What's up?"
Her brain quickly strung words together to justify the phone call. "I just thought I'd check in. Is everything alright?"
"Could be better, Jacob's pissed, Steve is pissed, and I'm about to speak with the CFO."
Patrick's hands slipped down her thighs and hiked up her dress as they glided back towards her hips. He kissed the side of her neck opposite the phone. She was burning up and it took every bit of energy she had just to speak. "You'll sort it out, honey bear, you always do."
"So where did you go? Steve said you disappeared."
Patrick whispered into her other ear, "Tell him you smoked a little pot with Samuel and it made you tired."
"Samuel had some pot. And you know me, I got sleepy. I didn't want to go back to the party that way, so I'm taking a walk."
"Great, so on top of everything else I have a stoned girlfriend to contend with." He laughed just as Patrick's finger touched her pussy and made her yelp. She bit her lip to suppress any further outburst. "Don't walk too far from the hotel. And the company reserved a few rooms just in case, so I can talk to Amy from HR if you want to sleep it off."
Patrick buried a finger inside and a bolt of heat shot through her belly that transformed into a moan as it reached her throat. "Ooo... Oh-oh-K, I might do that if you run too late."
"Keep talking," Patrick whispered, "You're a naughty girl who undresses for strangers, and now I'm going to set you off."
She could see the occasional body pass by in the bright doorway leading to the bar, and coupled with the wide open view into the valley, she felt unbearably exposed. She savored it, drawing in another long breath that turned into another light moan. "Ooo... So why isn't Jacob hmmmm... agreeing?"
"He finally did. But now Steve's demanding a higher share count because he now knows we're set on a controlling interest."
Patrick worked two fingers up inside her, making her gush wet and hot. The sound of them smacking in the juice filled the vast empty room. Oh god, what was she doing? And why couldn't she stop it?
"Can't you re-reason with hiiiiii-" She was suddenly lifted up by her armpits and set on the table beside her, knocking aside the place settings. The napkin wrapped silverware fell to the floor and the plates were pushed to the edge. Patrick dropped to his knees and buried his face between her legs. She reclined, resting her head beside a sparkling drinking glass.
"Sorry Honey-bear, I lost my footing. I'm OK, though." That was a lie, she was not OK, and Patrick's tongue was causing her to lose her mind, not her footing. It darted into her tender folds, stimulating the muscles along her thighs until they twitched involuntarily. She brushed a hand through his short blonde hair. He inserted two fingers under his burrowing tongue and, forming a peace sign, splayed her open to provide his tongue easier access. She gushed so hard she thought she might drown him. She needed relief. She needed it bad. God his tongue felt good!
She no longer heard what her boyfriend said, his voice drifting into distant chatter. Patrick's tongue was tearing through her slit and ringing her clitoris. Dirty heat raged inside, leaving its tingly residue everywhere. But then he stopped and his head popped up to speak. He fucked her with two fingers fast and forcefully, nudging her closer to orgasm with each insertion, as he instructed from just above her pubic bone, "Tell him you have another call."
Only then did she realize Brandon was waiting for her to respond, and probably suspected something was wrong. She did as instructed, lying that she had another call, and Patrick went back to feasting veraciously, which tipped her over the edge. She came hard right then, grabbing at his hair, wrapping her short heels over his back and bucking her hips.
"You-ewl do great. I..." She drew in a quick breath and her voice became a high pitched squeak. "I love you Honey-bear, I... I gotta go." Those final words before ending the call were practically inaudible.
Patrick continued to have at her, as she rode out her mild orgasm gnawing on a knuckle and pulling the table cloth into her fist. When her breathing settled down he stood up and began loosening his tie, allowing fresh air inside his shirt collar.
"I thought you might like that. You are something wicked, Reggie."
Only Brandon called her Reggie, and it felt taboo to hear it from Patrick. "Nobody can know this happened, OK?"
"Of course. I'm just as fucked as you if it gets out."
That only emphasized the illicitness of their indiscretion, and the taboo grew stronger. "God, what is wrong with me? What did we do?"
"Nothing we didn't both enjoy." He untucked his shirt and then unfastened his belt.
"Wait, you aren't expecting me to..."
His pants fell to the floor. "I'm thinking it's my turn to make a phone call." She now saw he'd removed the phone from the pocket and rocked it in his hand.
She shook her head, amazed at his audacity. He pressed someones number, set the phone to his ear, and then raised the bottom of his button down. When she saw the gorgeous dick her eyes widened and her heart raced wild. He was a nice size, and she would be lying if she denied wanting to reach out at touch it, but she couldn't let him get away with so brazenly expecting her to blow him.
When she didn't move he ended the call before anyone answered. He took her hand and helped her sit up on the table edge. His shirt had fallen over his cock again, but she couldn't ignore how close it came to her spread legs. It didn't help that her dress was still pushed up. He gave her a wounded puppy dog stare, and then led her hand to his shirt flaps, pressing it over his cock. Why she allowed him to, she couldn't say. It surged hard against her palm. Without thinking she reached under and wrapped her hands around the shaft. The heat emanating from it made her pussy respond in kind.
"Now we're getting someplace."
She knew all about guys like Patrick. She'd let him think for a moment that she was attracted to him, and now he'd lord it over her. He pressed a number on his phone and held it to his ear, apparently deciding she was going through with it even though she was still unsure. With his arrogance directed elsewhere she had an intimate moment with his cock, and found herself sliding off the table to kneel on the floor. Maybe the easiest way out of this was just to get it over with quick----give him what he wanted and bring it to an end.
He ran a hand through her hair, but looked out towards the Valley. His growing hardon had emerged through the shirt flap, and she stroked it gently. An internal instinct to mate flared up as she examined the spongy bell shaped head, and then, in a swift, spontaneous move, she placed her mouth over it.
"Samuel, I need your help."
She could faintly hear the response at the other end. "What now, man?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing. Just if Brandon or Steve ask, you gave Reagan a little herb and she left to walk it off."
He was completely hard, and she took that beautiful cock fully into her mouth.
"You're pinning your crimes on the black man, huh?"
"You're the one holding, bro, what do you expect?"
"I'm just surprised the white folk of GRG even let a black man into their party. So shit, you might as well just tell them my real name's Deshawn and I'm inviting all the pretty, white hoes back to my trap house."
"Don't be a dick. Just get my back, and make sure Brandon and Steve don't come looking. Oh shit!" Reagan hollowed her cheeks and licked up his shaft, causing more pleasure than he was ready for.
"What the hell was that?"
"Nothing. Just do this for me, alright? You owe me for covering your ass last month. The fat chick!"
She looked up at Patrick with his thick dick stuffing her mouth. He stared back down, his eyes thin with desire and a big cocky smile spread out under them. Something about his brazen attitude made her want to swallow even more of that gorgeous dick and it set her pussy ablaze. Patrick stroked her hair as she dutifully went down on him over and over, trying to bring him off as quickly as she could.
He hung up on Samuel, and then made another call as she sucked him harder.
"How's everything going?" He locked his fingers into her hair and followed the movement of her head. His showy pride had finally kicked in.
She heard a familiar voice coming through the miniature tinny-sounding speaker. "Good, worked out some of our concerns. Now I'm just making Brandon sweat. I figure we owe him that much for letting the deal falter in the first place."
It was Steve. She pushed her head back on Patrick's hand, freeing his cock from her mouth. A strand of saliva still leashed her to it as she shook her head up at Patrick. He grabbed his dick, aiming it at her, but she couldn't go on.
Even coming through the miniature speaker Steve's voice was like a tractor, booming and formidable. She wouldn't think about him when she'd undress in her office, because he had a brash vibe that resonated in his voice, too. He was like a different species----a breed of carnivore higher up the food chain. And to hear him speaking poorly of her boyfriend made her fear for Brandon as well. Steve was just a big, pushy, tactless asshole, and the kind of guy she went out of her way to avoid.
Her rapid pulse slowed, causing her vision to blur for a moment and a touch of nausea to contract her stomach muscles. And poor Brandon. She loved him, couldn't imagine a day without him, yet there she was, blowing a member of the company who planned on royally screwing him.
She blinked tightly to clear her vision, and then saw the head of his cock rising and falling just inches from her face as he slowly jacked himself. His fist strode up the shaft, squeezing just below the bell shaped head, making it swell up and glow the color of a young plum. It also forced the urethra to split, like it was yelling at her. He jacked it right in her face, taunting her, and up so close it looked enormous. Her nausea passed almost as quickly as it came, allowing her to focus on the prickly ache in her pussy, which, even in her disgust, never subsided. Yes, she was still angry, still disgusted with herself, but... Fuck, Patrick had a really nice dick. She imagined Brandon walking through the doorway, and her cheeks warmed as the dirty heat poured out thick and sticky within her. She simply had to suck that big, gorgeous cock. As irrational as it seemed, it really was the fastest way back to Brandon.
She moved her lips to its head, and the instant they touched, his hand released the shaft and he surged forwards. The rigid hot meat ran the entire length of her tongue until he occupied her mouth completely. And at the precise moment his cock bumped at her throat, Steve's voice crackled through the small speaker of his smart phone, "After tonight Brandon outta know his place."
She still could not believe what an uncooperative bully Steve was, and vented her anger on Patrick's dick, sucking him hard into her throat. His free hand rested on her head, his fingers tensed and squeezed her skull and she knew he was going crazy as he tried to speak on the phone. His hips then moved, fucking her lips, and she looked up at Patrick who stared right back down at her. He must've known Steve's words were responsible for her improved enthusiasm, because he smiled and spoke into his phone, "Yup, GRG is getting their first taste of us tonight, man!"
A fresh jolt of electricity shot to her pussy. She practically slugged her face onto his meat while using one hand to squeeze its shaft. Up and down she went, sucking noises filling the room, and her throat burning as the bulbous head pounded against it. His grip on her skull then tightened. It was her turn to ruin his composure, and she squeezed the head into her throat. The increased tightness around his cock made him jerk his hips back and retreat an inch into her mouth, but his voice hitched into a compressed growl that indicated nothing other than pleasure. He covered the bottom portion of his smartphone in a fist, hoping to silence the hidden receiver. "Naughty, naughty Reggie."
She smiled around his cock and repeated her tight throat-clutch on him. This time he breathed through it, allowing his long cock to submerge deeper into her esophagus. After throating him a few more times, Patrick issued a little revenge of his own and pumped his hips forwards. The added motion drove her to gag and constrict the muscles along her svelte neck. His plan backfired when his cock was momentarily crushed, forcing him to grit his teeth and groan into the phone.
"You alright?" Steve's tractor voice maxed out the tiny phone speaker.
"Hey, you aren't still with Brandon's girl are you?"
"No, bro, she ditched me." He smiled down at Reagan, delighted she was in on the lie.
"What happened there?"
"She smoked a little pot with Samuel and then took a walk."
"Bullshit. He knows better than that. But you on the other hand... You'd better not be fucking that."
Steve's threat heightened the severity of her predicament. Her spine tensed with fear, but fresh heat also invaded her aching pussy. She plunged her mouth down his long shaft and made it impossible for him to maintain any composure in his voice. She knew they were at risk of being caught, but she couldn't help herself, the riskiness of their tryst had her so worked up she just couldn't stop. Saliva had seeped onto her cheeks, her vision blurred through a coat of tears and garbled gulps filled the quiet room, as she forced Patrick deeper and deeper into her throat. And when she felt his balls on her chin, Patrick doubled up and grunted loudly.
"What the fuck was that? Where are you?"
"Nothing. It's nothing." Patrick's voice had weakened severely, leaving him to sound far from convincing.
"I know she's not on your dick right now!"
"I'm not that stupid, bro."
"You better not be. Because if you are sticking your dick it that while I'm out here sorting shit out, I'm gonna have to kill you, man."
"She went for a walk. It's all go-od." His voice fluctuated when Reagan went down exceptionally fast and deep. The hand on her head was no longer applying pressure in the direction of his cock, but instead he employed resistance. He was close to coming and it thrilled her. She wanted to bring this womanizing hunk to his knees.
"So where are you then?"
"In the re-restaurant be-beside the bar, making a c-couple of phone c-calls."
"So you're telling me the truth, she ditched you? Because I know you, you move on every piece of ass you see."
"No reason to b-be jealous, bro, she to-took off with Samuel. Call him if you wa-want."
"So if I want to know where the girlfriend of our partner is, I should ask Samuel, not the company pussy-hound?"
"Ye-yeah. I'm pretty sure she's into the bla-ack dick."
Reagan rolled her lips back to expose teeth and gave him a nip in response to his accusation. Just when she thought he couldn't be a bigger a jack-ass he set the bar staggeringly higher.
She heard Steve laugh at the other end of the phone and it only raised her hackles more. "What the fuck is wrong with you Patrick? Crap, I gotta go. I just got a text from Brandon. Sounds like the CFO bent him over. Let's meet back at the bar in five and discuss our options."
Patrick set the phone down on the table, and placed a second hand on her head. They locked eyes as he stuffed her mouth with his burning-hot cock. More than lust swam in his resilient, blue irises, as a playful war brewed between them. He gritted his teeth and pinched his eyelids almost closed. She matched his stare and dropped her jaw, as if his size was trivial. The pressure he applied on her head was once again in the direction of his cock and his hips lurched forwards, popping it tightly into her cramped ventricle.
Again and again he took her throat, the rigid, veiny meat impacting against the slippery lining, as a tear streamed down her cheek. She was determined to beat him, however. She might've been on her knees as he guided her head onto his cock, but she felt anything but submissive. She intended to blow her boyfriend's business associate so fucking good and dirty he wouldn't be able to stand when he came. She'd bring the pussy hound to his knees.
Patrick, however, held himself together quite nicely. Yes, he gritted his teeth, tension creased the comer of his eyes, and his slick façade deteriorated as he literally face-fucked her----but a steady growl hissed from his throat and revealed the animal behind his desires to be every bit as smooth as its skin. He clutched her hair, and focused his inherent compulsion to spew seed into the opposite sex by lodging that cock down her throat like it was a narrow, cashmere-lined glove. His cocky smile eased into place, but he'd lost his soft friendly dimples and his eyes tightened like a hawk's beaming down on a mouse. That stare triggered something more in her, too, and her pussy tingled like mad.
She thought of her boyfriend running around the party trying to meet the demands of these assholes, completely oblivious that she had a mouth full of cock. It was so wrong. She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't have undressed for those assholes even when she didn't know who they were. What was her problem? She didn't even like Patrick anymore. So why did blowing him make her pussy feel so good? Why did the thought of drinking the arrogant fuck's come make her so ravenously hot? And now his balls weren't just touching her chin as his hips came forwards, they were smashing against it.
"Ah fuck yeah. Oh that's good. Aw Reggie that is go-good. Like that. Ah fuck, like that, just like that. Ah that's good." He sped up, shirt flaps brushed against her nose, and his balls slugged her chin.
"You hot, naughty, little girl. I'm gonna lose it. Keep that up, I'm so fucking going to come. Goddamn you are beautiful. Get it. Get me down. Suck me all the way down. Just like that, you naughty little girl. Get it all. Is your beautiful ass ready for me to lose it? You want some in your pretty mouth? Yeah you do. You want my fucking come in your mouth. Your boyfriend's just outside and you want my come in your mouth."
He maneuvered into her throat steadily, and she did as she was told----she took it straight down her throat. And he was right, she wanted him to come in her mouth so bad she'd forgotten they were in earshot of a party, and issued a garbled moan that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than gagging on a cock. She braced her hands on his hips and tried to swallow him as fast and deep as she possibly could.
"Suck it Reggie. Suck my cock. God-damn I can see it in your long sweet neck. And goddamn you've got the pre-prettiest face. When I saw you in your office, pl-playing with your tits on the phone, I knew I was going to have your pretty ass. And goddamn do I love always being right."
Oh god, he was such a jack-ass. Why, why, why was she doing this? He then thrust hard and jammed her face onto his dick, his balls completely flattening over her small chin and her nose crushing into his mustard button down.
Her heart then stopped. With her head being crammed on his dick, she heard a footstep behind him. She could not see past his body, and tried to express her panic by tensing up her forehead and shaking her head up at him, but Patrick was out of his mind, and his dick remained buried in her mouth. She heard the footstep again, closer now, maybe just behind Patrick. It had the distinct thwack of a man's dress-shoe on a tiled floor. She knew it was Brandon. She knew Brandon was standing there watching some guy shove his dick down her throat. She beat her palms on Patrick's hips for him to move away, but at the same time her pussy tingled so bad she almost had an orgasm.
Patrick finally pulled his cock out, still hard as rock. She took a deep breath, and had to extend her lower lip out to prevent the saliva in her mouth from spilling down her front side. As she did, she saw a figure step out from behind Patrick. It was Steve's thick muscular frame, and she looked up into his dark, approaching eyes right as she tipped her head back..
"Mother-fucker! You had to do it. You had to get your cock sucked, didn't you?"
Patrick turned to face him so fast his hard dick sprung left and right. Steve looked down at the exposed organ, glistening with Reagan's spit.
"What the fuck, man? You have to do every girl you meet----every fucking one of them? You couldn't keep it in your pants just until we closed this deal?"
"It's not what you think, bro!"
"You mean you didn't just have your cock stuffed in her mouth?"
Reagan stayed on her knees. Steve was a little scary before, but now he was terrifying.
"OK, I admit to that part, but it didn't happen like you think."
"It doesn't matter how it happened, man. That's not what concerns me. What concerns me is that I'm out there dealing with some guy and you're in here doing his girlfriend's throat. And you did it right in the middle of the fucking party! I could fucking hear that shit at the entrance to the room, man."
Patrick pulled up his slacks and shoved his deflating hardon into his boxer shorts. "OK, OK, but she's not who you think. That's what I'm trying to tell you."
The fact Patrick was stammering caused Reagan to wrap her arms over her chest and flash Steve a pleading doe-eyed stare. She also licked at the interior of her mouth, as if cleaning it would undo the fact she'd just had a dick in there.
"Unless she's not Brandon's girlfriend, I don't care who the fuck she is."
"You honestly don't recognize her?"
Reagan somehow found her voice. "Patrick, don't."
He looked down at her. "For fuck's sake, Reggie, this is for real. And he's going to figure it out eventually."
"Hey, you don't get to talk to her like that!"
"Fuck, she's the one, bro."
"What do you mean? Which one?"
"Think about----lucky fortune?"
Steve raised one eyebrow and studied her. "Bullshit!"
"It's her, I'm telling you." Patrick then looked down at her. "Show him. Show him what you showed me. Show him what you showed us every night we played hoops."
She knew what he meant, but she had no intentions of showing Steve anything, and no idea what derogatory meaning lie behind "lucky fortune". She got that Steve was a man's man, but it disgusted her how Patrick was suddenly all bros-before-hos and kissing up to his boss instead of standing up for himself----or for her.
"He's already seen, Reggie. Just a quick flash." His once suave, seductive voice now sounded shrill.
"Don't bother!" Steve grabbed Patrick's shoulder. "I don't give a fuck who she is." Reagan could see in his eyes it wasn't entirely true. The brown irises had already moistened into wet chocolate. His carnivorous nature was showing, and she felt like little more than food.
Steve then pinched his temples between his thumb and index finger. "OK, here's how this is going to go. You, Patrick, are going back out there and find Brandon. You and her are not to be seen together again tonight. Clear?" He then looked down at Reagan. "You----you are going to stay here with me."
Shock cracked a whip against her heart. At this point she wanted to get back to Brandon so bad she didn't care how things looked.
"We'll head back out in ten minutes or so, and I'll say I saw you stumbling out front and helped you back inside."
"Alright, that's cool." Patrick tucked his mustard shirt back into his trousers. "And sorry, bro, but... Fuck, tell me you wouldn't've?"
"Wouldn't've what, nearly blown our entire company capital? No, dip-shit, I wouldn't've."
She refused to look at Patrick as he walked across the dark empty restaurant towards the bar entrance, but flinched when he called back, "You would've. The lucky fortune, brotha. Just look at her."
Steve was looking at her, and she didn't like it. Maybe Patrick's change of behavior should've told her something about Steve, like maybe he was even scarier than she thought. He remained silent, paced in front of Reagan and intermittently ran his hands through his dark hair and shook them violently in front of his face, like he was yelling in his head. Reagan stayed on her knees, his pacing and gesturing only worsening her feelings of shame.
She ran a hand up her thigh and onto her tummy, and softly laughed. She was a horrible person----she didn't even feel guilty or remorseful in the slightest, just burning shame. And the kind of shame she did feel has the same effect on her as she'd experienced undressing in front of the open blinds. She softly laughed again, this time putting her knuckle to her mouth to hide it.
She finally lifted herself up off the tiled floor and walked towards the windowed wall. Samuel and Kai were gone, and the miles and miles of twinkling lights seemed to emulate the confusing mess in her mind. She watched the red lights whiz along the 405. There were so many cars going so fast, and yet the red and white stream was the one thing that appeared perfectly orchestrated. She then followed a single pair of headlights off the circular 405 exit and down a four-lane street, and she knew if she even blinked she'd never be able to pick it out again. Her belly twitched the way it does when something comes in close proximity of her vagina, and she caught herself trailing a finger down the front of her blood red dress, mimicking the route of the car. And the car headed lower and lower down her dress. She prepared to touch herself, but stopped at the tip of her pubic bone. Steve was in the room and it pissed her off his presence prevented her from exploring any further..
His voice came out of the silence behind her, causing her hand to retract up to her shoulder and cross over her tits. "Sorry if I came off insensitive. It's just that, well you and Brandon, that's none of my business, but Patrick is my business."
The way he said "you and Brandon" felt judgmental, and it pissed her off even more. He made their relationship sound fake, and even as fucked up as she was, her love for Brandon was real, and no bully was allowed to make light of it.
He must've sensed her growing disdain, because he pinched his temples and started over. "Let me try again. It's just... Well, I didn't get where I am by coddling people, and I know I can sound-"
"No, let me guess," she interrupted, and spun around to face him. "You got where you are by bullying people." He started to object, but she cut him off again. "You just love talking down to everyone, don't you? You're a Doer and a Taker, right? I bet you even printed that on the back of your business card. Or I bet it's some totally stupid cliché, like some Winston Churchill quote. Am I close?" When he started to answer, she again cut him off. "Guys like you always come with their moronic version of carpe diem, so come on, what is it?"
He looked stunned, his broad jaw locking into place. Reagan had even shocked herself with the outburst, as it came without any forethought whatsoever. She just couldn't contain the repulsion she felt in the moment. She was being as scary as him.
"Is it my turn yet?" He studied her face, his shadowy chocolate eyes thinning as he rocked back his head. He then stepped in close to her, and she felt more than a little threatened by it.
A nervous lump formed in her throat when she asked again. "So no, I take it, no personal motto?" She intentionally softened the question, but even as the last word left her mouth, she understood he'd make her regret it. And her fear overtook her shame in the quiet seconds that followed.
Finally Steve smiled, but the way he did only made her more uncomfortable. "OK, you're right. I do. But really it's more of an aphorism than a motto----the biggest knife carves the biggest slice."
Her eyes dropped to his crotch and shot back up to his. Shit, she really hoped he hadn't noticed that. It wasn't even what he meant by "the biggest knife".
"So what's yours then? What Sweetie-pie doesn't know won't hurt him?"
"I'll let Patrick handle that!" He looked to the ceiling and winced, angry about something. "Fuck, I can't believe you..." The sentence finished out in her head. He couldn't believe she'd fallen for Patrick's sweet talk, and neither could she.
"He's a complete douche. How could you be that naïve?"
Once again she reacted without thinking, and this time her hands smacked against his chest. As her palms contacted the solid barrel under the crisp oxford weave of his maroon button-down, a burst of aggressive, satisfying energy surged through her and she brought her hands up to slap him again. It wasn't just him she was reacting to, but she knew hurting the dense man would be impossible, and strangely the impossibility of it made it terribly important she succeed. No one was allowed to be that big and strong, no one was allowed to make her feel like a slice for the taking, and who was he to fucking judge her.
He grabbed her wrists before they reached his chest a second time, her fingertips snapping forwards and tapping his body with little "thwacks".
"You're too easy."
"Let go!" She pulled back, but he tightened his grip and dragged her in closer. "Let go of my hands."
"Take a breath and I will."
She struggled to free her wrists once again, only to have him raise her arms up and pull her body flat against his. Her tits rubbed his bottom ribs, and she glared upwards and twisted her hands until the skin burned in pain.
"Enough! You and your boyfriend have caused me enough trouble tonight. I'm done with you both!"
"Then let me go."
"Chill out and take a deep breath and I will."
She stopped struggling but she wouldn't take a deep breath. Instead she glared directly at his eyes, attempting to stare him down. After several seconds came a strong impulse to blink, which she refused to do. To keep her mind off blinking she narrowed her attention to just his irises. She studied them for several more seconds until she literally forgot what she was staring at, and they became landscapes of brown and green flecked strands leading towards a central black pond. And as much as she wanted to hold onto her anger, the rich color of the shoreline and blackness of the pond proved too soothing. Her heart rate slowed against her will, and when she finally had to blink, a head-rush followed. She lowered her head and cleared her watery eyes by staring into his broad chest. The realization his ribcage was wider than her shoulders finalized her decision not fuck with him further. She then took that deep breath, and a wrist was released.
A hand gently stroked the side of her head, and her head fell against his wall of a chest. Lips then crashed against her forehead, kissing down her cheek towards her mouth, as an influx of heat took her by surprise. Her desperate fear rolled over into desperate arousal, and with her freed hand she beat against his chest again, but softly. It didn't feel at all satisfying anymore, and instead she slid the hand around his back and leaned her body into his.
Before her mind could grasp what she was doing, or who she was doing it with, his tongue was in her mouth and hers was inside his. He let go of her other wrist so he could grab her ass and draw her in even closer. The next few moments were a blur of frenzied kissing and groping, culminating in her stretchy chiffon dress being drawn overhead.
He lifted it as far as her shoulders, and then she took over, losing sight as the material passed her eyes. With her bottom half left completely exposed, he quietly announced, "The lucky fortune. Are you fucking kidding me?" She still had no idea of his meaning, but she recalled the bulge in Patrick's pocket where her panties sat in a ball, and realized Steve was getting an eyeful of her bare pussy. She gathered up the fabric and cleared it over her head, as layers of black hair fell back into place. Other than a few strands floating over her face her bob cut had returned to its perfect shape.
The muscles along his jaw tensed, working up the strength to speak. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, why do you have to be so fucking hot?" The ridges of his brow sloped, revealing how conflicted he felt, but he touched a finger upon her landing strip of pubic hair and ran it slowly up and down the half-inch wide patch.
"Goddammit, that is nice."
His finger skimmed over the soft fuzzy patch, petting it, as she stood before him in nothing but a black, lacy bra. She set her dress on a table, clutched onto his beefy forearm with both hands and followed its movement. For a moment she felt responsible, recognizing how much Steve had to lose. This big tough guy was risking the biggest deal of his life for a fleeting moment with her, and that was its own turn on.
"Does Brandon know what you do----showing off to strangers?"
His finger dipped lower, and then slid between her moistened labia. "Ahhh," she moaned, and then griped his forearm tighter and repositioned his fingers back to the little strip of pubic hair.
He shook his head in disappointment. "I guess not. I wonder how he'll take the news?"
Was that a threat? She called his bluff, "Yeah, I wonder..."
"Don't worry, nobody's going to know. But you like that, Reagan, don't you?" His forearm flexed and his fingers dug down and up into her snatch. She collapsed forwards, removing her grip on his arm to brace her weight against his chest. She breathed a shuddering moan into his neck, and her nostrils flared with an intake of air. His cologne tore through her sinuses with a sharp, heavy mix of vetiver and spice soaked bark. It would have sickened her in an elevator, but now it flooded her nostrils with a manly, musky presence that tapped her instinctual desire to fuck.
Her hands moved to his shoulders. His stayed under her crotch, as a meaty finger fucked gently into her. Dirty heat circulated up her spine, pooling in the pleasure centers of her brain. The muscles along her thighs relaxed and her legs parted ever so slightly. She leaned further into his broad, barreled chest, her tits squeezing out the sides of her lacy bra. She rolled her hips, granting his finger deeper access, letting it find exactly what it searched for.
She bit into her lip, and breathed in more of his scent. He palmed her ass cheek, and forced it down, helping to grind harder on the, now two fingers lodged inside her. It released a maddening wave of euphoria and she squeezed his shoulders to keep from screaming. Her toes stiffened in her shoes and her eyelids crushed together. Her breathing hastened, expanding her ribs outwards and squeezing her tits harder against his massive chest. She bit into his maroon shirt, just below the collar bone. Orgasmic turmoil gathered under her skin, and she finally called out, "Oh no stop, please."
He grunted and gave two last thrusts before pushing her away. It was a gentle shove, but she'd been unprepared for it, both physically and mentally, and it sent her stumbling backwards. She managed to regain her footing before falling to the floor, but it left her standing awkwardly hunched over and staring at the ground, with an arm over her tits, and a hand covering her pussy.
She froze in that position, her mind reeling in all directions. Shame and rejection crippled her insides. But her pussy craved further attention. It begged to be touched. She wanted to smell him again, feel his strong chest. She imagined what he'd look like without a shirt----without pants. She wanted his... No, no, no, she didn't! She didn't! Brandon... Where was Brandon?
Steve didn't move either, but she didn't have to look up to know he was watching. She could feel his Italian eyes crawling over her exposed flesh, judging, blaming and making it tickle, pinch and burn. Beads of perspiration sprung up on her legs and back and met the cool hotel air. She suspected Steve's eyes were probably fixed on the profile of her round ass, which had filled out so nicely in her late teens. And she'd been working out and jogging from the age of twenty-two, so her butt cheeks now held their shape like a sport's mannequin. She was no idiot----she knew she had the type of body guy's referred to as "built to fuck", and under Steve's gaze her feelings of exciting shame flared up like a bonfire.
She was more excited than the first time she "accidentally" flashed Brandon her tits while getting changed on the beach, or the countless other peeks she'd given her male friends in the years leading up to that. The more daring she'd be, the more exciting it was, and she couldn't begin to describe how dirty and thrilling it was striping down in her office for the two basketball players. But in her twenty-six years as a disgraceful, built-to-fuck girl, nothing compared to standing naked and horny before Steve.
Slowly she straightened herself up, the hand over her pussy rose to her belly, and the arm resting on her tits moved into a position to support them. When the courage came to look at Steve, he was unfastening his belt. He then unbuttoned his maroon shirt, but left it flapped closed, and as he stripped out of his pants, he pointed to a spot just in front of him. What a pushy prick, she thought, as her pussy leaked down her inner thigh. With very small, hesitant steps, Reagan moved into the spot. She envisioned herself on her knees, worshipping his cock, and that settled it for her----he would fuck her, she would let him, and she would return to Brandon, passionate and ashamed.
Without a word he took her hands and placed them on the elastic band of his boxer briefs. She slid the boxers down his thighs, and then lowered to her knees where she could pull them all the way off. Being on her knees set his cock at eye level, and she placed her palms on his hips to either side of it. Patrick had been big, but not nearly as big as Steve. It was half hard, its smoothness marred with veins and the skin very dark. The crown appeared somewhat stubby, or maybe its length was just disproportionate with its amazing girth. The shaft, however, was plenty long and just as thick. It bulged in the center, until a pulse of blood straightened it out and added to its already incredible length. He took hold of her arm and brought her up to standing.
The tables one row in from the windows had no place settings, and he lifted her by the ass and sat her on the white table cloth, just as Patrick had earlier. But unlike Patrick, he stepped between her legs and glided his cock over her pussy. Her heels fell to the floor and he continued to harden until she could see the underside begin to sparkle in her secretions.
She leaned back on her elbows, and saw his shirt flap had opened to reveal black letters across his stomach. He noticed her starting, and parted the shirt for her. "B-I-G B-L-A-D-E" was spelled out in Old-English lettering that distorted over his defined abs. She had not expected such a thick waist to be devoid of fat.
"I had a white boy gangsta phase in my teens. It's what they called me." Fuck, he was even more of a bad boy than she'd thought.
He stroked her smooth belly. "Good thing you never got any tats, your skin is way too nice to be all inked up with shit. Can't say I don't regret mine. Doesn't exactly suit a thirty-five-year old business man, huh?" His hips gained an extended push, the head sliding over her slit, and her glistening secretions now coated the thick crown. "Your eyes did turn green----really fucking green. You're going to blow my whole fucking contract, aren't you? You're just too fucking hot." He looked her up and down. "Fuck it!" He smacked the table. "Fuck the contract."
"And here I thought you were going to fuck me," she teased, ending with her lips in a snarl. The dirty heat made another run at her pussy and left it so sensitive she could practically see its pink, wet folds in her mind. Then the fat head went low enough to find a different path, and entered the sensitive pink crevice. She murmured a meek whimper in a high, childlike timbre. She had a soft, feminine voice by nature, but having his huge dick clear its path strained her vocal cords into high tensioned harp strings.
She whimpered again, as he pulled away and then returned deeper than before. He braced his arms on the table beside her, leaned forwards to reach her lips and stroked into her gently as they kissed. He was only half way inside, and already she felt stretched. She was too tight to fit him, but she had too. She breathed deep, and gyrated her hips, massaging her ass on the table, and trying to relax the muscles gripping his cock. Fuck he was a tight fit, but god did it feel amazing to be so stuffed.
It wasn't like anything she'd experienced before, such a massive thing within her pelvis. She could even feel the weight of it inside, resting on her anterior wall. She loosened some, and he applied just a little more pressure, taking a deeper path. He squeezed past her clit going in and ground against it coming out, turning her clit into a beacon of nerves tingling as far up as her ovaries.
His mouth moved to her neck, sucking along her delicate throat and planting firm, little kisses. For several minutes his cock stroked into her, until the big thing produced such a satisfying wave of pleasure she simply couldn't remain composed. She hissed, "Oh yessss! Oh shit yessss! You're soooo big. Oh pleasssse, fuck meeee." Brandon manifested behind her eyelids, his back to her as he shook his head and pressed a palm to his cheek, and something like guilt, but not quite guilt, twisted her face into a tight mess. But even that feeling didn't last, because Steve's next stroke sunk so deep into her, her mouth shot open and she gasped, "Oh shit, St-" She jerked her head to the side, just barely silencing herself before saying his name. A hand slipped under her cheek, tilting her head back to face him and then he caressed her silky skin and ran a thumb over her parted lips. She couldn't hold back and finally said it. "Oh, Steve! Oh shit, yes Steve, fuck meeeeee!" Not only had she ended up screaming his name, she emphasized it with perfect pronunciation.
He hummed loud and approving, knowing full well he'd stolen something special from her boyfriend, something even Reagan believed was his and only his. Steve's hips then snapped back, swung down with strength, and jerked to a halt before smacking against her thighs. He continued with the assertive, boastful moves, using them to jab his cock quickly into her. OK, now she felt stretched. He'd either grown harder or pushed in deeper, but her pussy was totally, completely stuffed.
"Oh my gooood, Steve! " She hated pouring honey all over the prick's ego, but she couldn't help herself, his big cock shocked her senses like a slap in the face, and she screamed again, "Oh, Steve, yes. That's too much. Oh that's a lot to take----so, so big!"
He straightened his torso, taking hold of her waist. He parted her thighs, as his hips were now perpendicular to hers and needed more room between her legs. His strokes took a straighter path, and he no longer stopped short of her fit thighs, striking them with a rhythmic smacking. It was a gentle bump, but the illicit noise brought the action to her ears, and hearing herself get fucked gave her another reason to scream, "Oh my god, you feel so good! I can barely... So fucking good!"
He slapped her hips with his hand, just hard enough to hear but not sting. "You feeling me, girl? You feeling me deep in there? I know Brandon hasn't been this deep in you, so you feeling me?"
He thrust harder, as if it would help form an answer. It did, but she bit her lip and suppressed her urge to scream it out. Brandon was scrambling around the party to get him his deal, and now Steve meant to best him at his own girlfriend too. She wouldn't let him. She wasn't about to give the pushy prick the satisfaction of hearing her swoon all over his big cock. Or not anymore, she wouldn't.
He then spread her thighs wide apart, hooked his hands under her knees and raised her legs up to his shoulders. In this position she quickly learned there was even more to his awesome dick than she'd thought. He bumped against something, a wall, and most likely her cervix. He maxed out and it sent a shock wave through her body that shot down her legs and finished with a spasm in her toes. He bumped it again, sending another crippling shockwave, and then another. Her lips pulled from her teeth with each gentle nudge against the wall, and her breath spiked into a brittle squeak. She couldn't tell if she was feeling pain or the start of something truly wonderful, but her trepidation receded as each bump felt more and more like the latter. Instead of listening to her cervix's plea to stop, she again gyrated her hips, and focused on relaxing the tension, even letting her mind wander into the black ponds at the center of his wet, chocolaty eyes. Gritting her teeth she finally convinced her body not to freak out over the giant obtrusive cock, and what happened next caused her to drop her legs from his shoulders and wrap them wildly over his butt.
She must've relaxed to the point her cervix opened, she had no other explanation for it, because with a loud moan he drove steadily past the wall. The satisfied look on his face could only mean he'd felt the muscles slacken and was delighted to break through. It was as breathtaking as losing her hymen----the culmination of anxiety and the explosion of nerve impulses as his fat rigid cock invaded a chamber that had never been touched before.
"Ohhh, that's tight in there. You got it now. Uhhf-fucken shit! Uhhhh, that's virgin tight! Uhhg-good job. I know Brandon hasn't, uhhh, worked that right there, uhhh, so good fucking job."
He pushed gently into the chamber once again, and she squeaked through a wide open mouth, still focusing on getting him to fit comfortably.
"Yeah, your boy hasn't been in it like this. Uhhh, let's hear you tell me otherwise. Uhhh, you can't, can you? Ohhh yeah, you can barely even breathe. Ohhh, but you're doing greeeat."
He'd taken about six, slow, gentle strokes into the virgin zone, and she'd loosened up with each one. Her pleasure skyrocketed. She hadn't thought such euphoric sensations were even possible, and her eyes rolled back into her head.
"Forget it," he hummed in his deep tractor voice, "you don't have to say a thing. Everything I need to know is written on your face."
"Fuck you. I really hate you." She squeezed his hips with her calves, goading his weight down on her, encouraging even more of his giant cock inside. He gave it to her, and she threw her head back and whimpered into the empty upside-down room.
"No, you don't hate me."
She hung there like that, biting her tongue to regain her senses, but it wasn't working. He had her right where he wanted her, and continued to gently deep-stroke her sex. And to his credit, he knew enough to work with her, matching her rhythm with steady, controlled movements, and that's what made the stretching bearable. He'd done this before, obviously. In fact he must've guided numerous women through this toe-curling workout, because he had the reassuring confidence of a coach. She finally raised her head again, with eyes half-shut and a quivering lower lip. He smiled big and cocky and gently planted a kiss on her knee.
As the crown of his dick pushed through her cervix yet again, she wondered if that's really what was happening. She'd heard stories and she'd opened up extra space to him somehow, so it had to be what she was feeling, and oh my god did it feel good. The dirty heat circulated ferociously inside her and he was thrumming her clit, torturing her g-spot, and bringing her within screaming distance of an orgasm. She was in the epicenter of arousal and totally out of it.
She closed her eyes, a velvety red light seeped through, and in its haze Brandon manifested again, this time facing her and starring down as she was fucked on the table. "Baby," she said silently to herself, "can you really blame me? Can you blame me for his cock feeling sooooo fucking good?"
To her surprise Brandon answered her silent question. She couldn't understand the words, but it was his voice. It was unmistakably his, and came from somewhere nearby. She opened her eyes to see the profile of Steve's angular jaw, straight nose, and stern eyebrows as he stared out the window.
"It's alright, uhhh, they can't see. Uhhh, fucking potheads."
When she heard Patrick's biting laugh, she shook her head no, but Steve already thrust forwards and she squeezed him again with her legs. He was right, they were too far into the room to be seen from down on the patio, but her heartbeat still climbed into her neck and her cheeks burned.
Patrick, Brandon, Kai and Samuel must've gathered directly underneath, as their voices became clearer and then she heard Brandon's distinct cough. He rarely smoked weed--he knew better, because he'd get real spacey. It must be to impress the group, which could only mean things hadn't gone well with the CFO.
"So where's that hot little girlfriend of yours?"
"In a room asleep, I suspect. You guys apparently got her too stoned."
"Samuel's shit is good. It'll put me down if I don't watch it. But Reagan, bro, does she taste as good as she looks?"
Steve came to the end of his deepest stroke yet, knocking the wind out of her as she screeched, "That jeh-jerk!" Her lover smirked. They both knew Patrick was having a private joke at her boyfriend's expense, because he knew the answer--he'd had a taste.
"Every bit as good."
"Damn, you scored landing her. So what's she like? Wild?"
"I wouldn't say wild, but... Well it's more like Reagan's the whole package. She's the kind of girl that makes you start thinking marriage, you know?"
Shame screwed up her face and burned her cheeks, but she was totally turned on at the same time. Brandon's profession had an effect on Steve, too, and he growled as he drove his cock into her virgin chamber. She relaxed as he made his way in, and then clenched as he pulled out. He had to be in her cervix, it was just so fucking tight, and he growled again when she gripped at his cock. They built a rhythm where she'd relax, he'd push, she'd clench and then he'd struggle back out, growling his approval. It resulted in juices flowing so liberally she felt a little embarrassed.
She could still hear the boys talking down below, but Brandon's last few words were all that reached her. "The whole package", "makes you think of marriage." Why now? Why did she have to hear that with Steve's dick lodged in up to the peak of her hipbone? He inserted his cock faster, speeding up their rhythm, and she worked with him, rocking her hips up as he came down and arching her back as he lifted off again. Brandon had both aroused her shame and inflated Steve's ego and the two conjoined in crazy hot harmony.
A pleasant tingle came in waves, attacking the already stimulated area stretched around his dick, electrifying her raw clitoris, and even prickling her nipples. The tingling wave receded and then came back much faster and stronger, carrying the sensation deeper into her body. She moved her hips faster, following its pulse, and Steve reacted masterfully, landing his next stroke right on beat. Her fingernails dug into the tablecloth and she gathered sections of the fabric close to her sides. Fuck the asshole was going to make her come. Within earshot of her boyfriend, she was going to come on Steve's huge, fat, awesome dick!
She panted in breathy deep gasps. He began landing his thrusts hard enough to make the table rock. The tingling pulse quickened and reached clear up to her lungs, turning every breath into a cloud of electricity. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, as he held her strongly in his massive arms, his pelvis slamming against her fit thighs, her chest heaving for more twinkling air and her tits jiggling in her bra like they wanted out. Sweat made her flat belly sleek and slippery, a sheen built along his forehead and sparkled where his temple dipped inwards, his Italian eyes in their haunting dark sockets were fixed on her mouth, waiting for her to scream.
"Come for me, lose it for my dick."
"No, no. I can't," she pleaded, but her hips acted on their own accord, meeting his hard thrusts without breaking rhythm. She'd passed the tipping point----her orgasm cut loose from her control. Her skin buzzed and her muscles stung as her consciousness shrunk away in preparation for the final big wave that had been building just off shore.
"Oh but you can." He pushed her legs back, so her knees were against her tits, her feet were planted against his chest, and her ass was raised an inch off the table. He slammed his cock into her, his hips meeting her ass instead of her thighs now, He then pumped so hard she slid back and forth on the table top and her clit endured every slippery inch of him.
"Uhhh, the biggest knife..." He waited for her to finish, but she'd given him enough---- stripping, swallowing his friend's cock and spreading her legs for his massive dick like a willing slut. She'd long ago lost his respect, and had no intentions of indulging the asshole any further, as his huge, pounding dick drove into her vagina, which throbbed on the edge of climax as she was tossed about on the table. "Uhhh, fuck! Come on, say it. The biggest knife carves..."
He then doubled his efforts and began using his hold on her thigh to pull her against him as his whole bottom half shot forwards, the single post table tilting in either direction so badly that his grip on her thighs was the only thing keeping it upright and preventing her from falling to the floor. She bit her tongue, her violently mounting orgasm demanded one final thing----total shame. With a weak cry she surrendered, "The-uh bigg-gust slu-ice."
He laughed aloud.
The next time his monster plowed into her cervix, her vagina snapped forcefully around it, her clitoris tightened into something like a fist, and an explosion of rippling electricity crawled through her body. "Oh-oh-oh fuck, Steve. Oh-oh-oh god no! Whu-whu-what's happening to me?" Her bones felt like hot stones burning her from the inside, her scalp shrank, her skin was attached to the table by cobwebs and her nipples extended and stung against the lacy fabric of her bra. "Oh-oh god, oh-oh god, oh-oh god..." He kept pumping his cock in, her pussy involuntarily convulsing, forcing half her body to convulse with it. Her jaw dropped so far it strained her neck and her thighs quaked in his strong hands. "Oh-oh god please, whu-what's happening to me?" No, really, what kind of fucking orgasm was this! The whole of her physiology then crushed inwards, pulling her consciousness into some narrow void. As her nude body teetered on the unsteady tabletop, her mind shrank away, a silk handkerchief disappearing into a magician's fist.
She looked upwards, just before going out, and Steve's face moved nearer, his Italian eyes drifted in a dreamy calm, his smile a relaxed line with a complacent pinch at either side and he breathed over a malicious, satisfied moan that rumbled in his throat. And then everything went blank. It was the eye of the storm----her anatomy was being violently ripped apart but her mind existed in a swirl of pleasurable heat----the dirty heat, so thick she could taste its sour, bitter mix of calcium and citrus. She felt Steve in there with her, his piquant cologne rushing into her sinuses and his strong, protective presence enveloping her completely.
Everything she knew about him was forced to change. He'd accompanied her in the most intense, intimate experience of her life, and from then on she'd expect to catch his Italian eyes around every corner, ready to lead her back down the rabbit hole. Brandon may be her one and only, but if her orgasm was its own beast, and she was truly beginning to believe it was, her orgasm would always answer to Steve.
Laughter brought her down from her peaceful plateau. It was Patrick, Brandon, Kai and Samuel all laughing together. She had no idea how long her orgasm lasted, likely less than a minute, but at least a hundred perceived ones. Patrick still quizzed Brandon about her, fishing for some provocative detail. He was such an ass.
"What about down there? Has she pulled up the carpet?"
"Ah man. She'd die of embarrassment if I said anything."
"So she did?"
"Most of it, OK."
Jesus, Brandon, don't humor him, she thought as she forced her sore jaw closed. As the convulsions settled down they left her joints achy and her skin sensitive, but Steve was still pumping his dick in and out, and a smaller version of her orgasm seemed to hug at his cock.
"What do you mean most of it? What's left?"
"Just a thin line."
Kai and Samuel burst out, "Nice!"
"She's got a lucky fortune, bro? That's fucking hot."
The ass already knew what she had down there, and was just making Brendon say it to be a dick. Steve ran a finger along the thin line of hair in question, and now that she was beginning to understand their little joke, she blushed something awful.
Kai laughed. "A lucky fortune, what's that?"
"It's a fortune cookie where the fortune's hanging partway out. Aren't you part Chinese, man, shouldn't you know that?"
"That's some American bullshit."
"Anyway, when a chick shaves her pubs down to a half-inch strip, it fucking looks like a fortune hanging out of a fortune cookie, doesn't it?"
"Shit," Brandon exclaimed. "That's all I'm gonna think of now, you fucker!"
Steve spread her legs wide, and said quietly, "It's better he imagines a fortune cookie than this, huh?" He shoved his dick in extra hard, and then his rough finger scraped her strip of short, pubic hair again. "Betchya his fortune says something about it, though." He laughed, and scraped again. "Miso hungry fo big one."
She slapped his arm. "You're such an uhh-asshole!"
He smiled big, her feistiness turning him on. And suddenly she was lifted clear off the table, as he kept his cock lodged in her now sopping vagina. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her by the ass as he took a few steps away from the table and then began bouncing her on his cock as he stood in the open room. His shirt flapped open and her bra covered tits slid up and down his chest, her bob landed in fans of black every time he slammed her onto his dick and she held on for dear life as the gloating prick fucked her like a machine. Feeling like nothing more than a doll in his arms, an orgasmic aftershock made her limbs jerk and lose their hold. Her head flew back, stretching out her svelte neck, and her arms straightened out to hang from his neck again, which was thicker than her thigh. A meek whimper started and never seemed to stop. Her brow bunched up, and her cheeks hallowed as she softly called out, "Oh god, like that. Don't stop! Please don't stop!" Spit was trapped in her teeth, impairing her words. "Oh Jesus, Steve, don't-ahh ever stop."
As her brow softened, she found the strength to pull herself back against his chest, and bite into his shoulder. She then opened her eyes, and stared out the doorway leading to the bar. She'd completely forgot she was being fucked in a public place, with a party going on just outside no less.
Down on the patio, Patrick shrieked. "OK, if she goes to the trouble of shaving, than she's gotta be a little wild."
"Sorry, Brandon," Kai interjected, "he's like this about my wife too. Really, Patrick, you think with all the woman you date you wouldn't need to delve into our humble lives."
"It's cool." Brandon sounded super stoned. "I don't mind. But there really isn't much to share. Reggie gets embarrassed easy, so I never push for too much."
"Bummer! But if she's shaving then she's asking you for a little nudge. I'm telling you, bro."
"Maybe. I mean, she told me she had anal with her last boyfriend, so there's definitely hope."
She couldn't believe he just said that. Steve looked her devilishly in the eye. "Anal, huh?"
"Don't! I hated it."
"That's fine, I'm good with this."
He began to bounce her off his thighs harder and faster. Sweat was building up, making it harder to secure a hold on him. And even as Steve fucked her senseless, lifting her with his strong arms, and supporting them with his cut thighs, a crumb of her mind dwelled on what Brandon said. He was high and obviously trying to impress these jerks, but it didn't matter, she was still his girlfriend, and that was plain disrespectful. Steve took a wider stance right then, and began slamming her body against his, like some pornographic swing dance. The new position allowed him to penetrate deep again, and she decided to let Brandon know it. He'd earned himself and earful.
"Oh that's it, yes, fuck me. Fuck that's good. Fuck me, yes, fuck me harder!" Steve answered her request like they were an order from God, his hips taking on a blistering pace, as he struck her ass and plowed through her tight dripping snatch. He wasn't breaching her cervix again, not in this position, but very close to it.
"You hear that?"
"Yeah! It must be coming from one of the rooms."
"Isn't your girlfriend in one of those rooms?"
"Ha-ha, very funny, man."
"Oh that's right, she doesn't get wild."
"Oh man!" Brandon laughed. "But the sad part is she barely makes a peep." She'd never heard him chumming around with the guys before, or at least not with a womanizer like Patrick. She didn't like it.
"Maybe that's the sound of her getting anal."
Brandon laughed again. They all did, even Steve. She then grabbed ahold of Steve's jaw, her hand barely fitting across its width, and screamed into his face. She'd show Brandon who doesn't make a peep. "Oh god, yes, harder, harder! I'm gonna come again. Oh god, yes, you feel so good. You're fucking me sooooo good." Her ragged breath shredded her words, making her voice unrecognizable, but they must've heard everything she'd said. When applause came from below she was certain of it. She thought of Brandon clapping to the sound of his own girlfriend getting the fucking of her life, and felt an inkling of guilt. She was being so bad, so awesomely bad.
"Sounds like your boyfriend wants an encore." Steve stood up straight, his legs finally tiring, and he walked her back towards the table. He lifted her off his cock, set her on the ground, spun her around, and then unclasped her bra. He loosened it and released her C-ups into the night air. He tossed the black, lacy bra towards the window, and it landed hanging on a chair.
"Nice!" Steve commented, looking down over her shoulder to her exposed front side. Her smaller torso meant her firm, C-cup-sized breasts were naturally close together, and her tits almost touched to form unassisted cleavage. He wrapped his hands around her and brought them up under her lovely beauties. He gently squeezed them, bringing his thumbs up around their sensitive nipples. He began kissing her temple as he fondled her, and it became a nice romantic interlude to all the animalistic sex.
And then she heard a stoned Brandon getting serious down on the patio.
"Alright guys, before Steve shows up I want to go over something."
"Where is he, anyway?"
"Probably out front swinging his dick at someone on the phone." Patrick then did his best Steve impression, "Nobody fucks with the Big Blade, mother fucker!"
Reagan giggled as Steve's lips moved to her cheek, and he whispered, "Oh, you think that's funny, huh?"
"Kinda." She stroked his right hand as it kneaded into the soft flesh of her boob.
"That's sort of what I'm talking about, guys." There was genuine concern in Brandon's voice, and it pulled her further out of her sexual haze. In fact, she prepared herself to end things depending on what he said next. "I want you guys to know I'm doing my best on this. But Steve is asking for a lot."
"Don't worry, bro, you'll make it happen. Steve's a hard-ass, but he gets it."
"Well, I might've fucked up. I went to the CFO myself... Fuck, I probably should've handed it off to Hal, the other accounts manager. He's better with our CFO. They go back a ways."
Steve grumbled into her ear and reached a hand down between them and around her ass. Shit, she'd been hounding Brandon to stop relying on Hal or the partners would never recognize what he had to offer. Maybe he wasn't as ready as she thought. She then gasped as Steve's hand went down and under, passing over her anus and sliding between her wet swollen labia.
"I can straighten this out, and I will, but the CFO is now suggesting we take the entire deal back to the table."
"Oh shit, bro!"
A large finger then roughly dug into her, forcing another gasp. She knew it was in response to the conversation below----Steve's financial wellbeing rested in Brandon's hands.
"I know, I know. It won't go back to the table. I'll involve Hal tomorrow. We'll clear the original partnership."
Steve snorted an annoyed laugh and maneuvered his finger in up to the knuckle.
"Ooo god, baby." She could feel the anger radiating off him, and she already shifted her voice into a soothing tone. "Don't be mad at him. He'll get you your percentages."
"You think, huh? Because that's not what I'm hearing." His finger left her pussy and his hand strode up and down her ass cheek, spreading the wetness across their round silky surface. He spanked it rather hard, the sharp sound of it causing her to jump.
He was becoming unhinged and she knew what she had to do. She reached back and stroked his thigh, and with breathy, creaking words, she begged, "I want your big dick, baby. Give me your big dick again."
The effect was immediate, and his finger sunk into her snatch once more. "You want it, Sweetie-pie?"
She didn't quite know how to interpret "Sweetie-pie", but assumed it was a jab at doing Brandon's girlfriend. And, given how scary Steve could be, it was probably better he gave it to Brandon by giving it to her. "God yes! Gimmie your big dick!"
He let go of her other breast and bent her slightly at the waist. She braced her arms on the table, and ground her ass against his finger as it dipped in and out.
"Goddamn! You are wet. You must want my dick!" He used his other hand to separate her ass cheeks as he plunged the finger in quicker. Her thighs began to quiver from having her knees bent, and she slid each foot off to the side, widening her stance. It also opened her up, and a juicy smacking sound came from inside her snatch. She could only imagine how wet she looked back there and her cheeks burned with shame--wicked, wonderful shame.
"Oh god, Steve. Make me come again. Please make me come again!" She sounded like some ditsy cliché begging to have a man fuck her, but it was for Steve's benefit. Surely he'd long forgotten all about Brandon and his partnership. But oddly enough, the sound of her voice, crackling and meek, it evoked genuine submissive desires within her.
"Yeah, tell me what you want. Louder!" The tractor-like tonality returned to his voice. He was again the Steve who walked in on her and Patrick, bullying them with his alpha-male bullshit. And it killed her to admit how hot it now got her.
"You, baby!" She spoke breathy and childlike, her sentences rising and falling, and loud enough for the guys outside to hear. "I want you! I need you inside me again. Please, baby, please fuck me."
He finger-fucked harder still, and she thrust back against his hand. It felt so good she began to twerk her ass against his knuckles.
"Wait up, Brandon. Listen to that, the chick's at it again."
"OK, OK... Real quick though, all I was going to ask is that you guys keep Steve from swinging his dick around too much until I can get into the office and straighten this out."
"Yeah, yeah, that's cool. Shit, she must be in the room just above the restaurant."
Steve muttered something like a laugh, and withdrew his fingers to rub his hardon against her pussy. "Better keep me from swinging my dick around, Sweetie-pie."
"Oh god yes, baby! Do it! Please, baby, fuck me!"
He bent her further over the table, positioned himself behind her, and rubbed the fat crown of his cock through her secretions. She thought she'd literally combust she was so hot for him to fuck her as her boyfriend listened on. His huge thing then sunk all the way in, as she was more than lubed up and ready. Two strokes more and he was already fucking her hard from behind. She whimpered luridly, and the sound of his hips smacking into her butt grew steadily louder. She ditched her childlike voice for an honest, frantic reaction. "Oh fu-u-u-uck! You are so de-e-e-eep! Oh-ye-e-e-eah, give me your big dick, baby. Please! Please, baby, give it to me ha-a-a-a-ard-er-er-er-oh-fuck-ye-e-e-ah!"
"Oh man, listen to her go."
Brandon followed up Patrick's comment, completely oblivious it was his girlfriend screaming her brains out. "Someone's really giving it to her, huh?"
Samuel, who'd been the quietest and most respectful of the bunch, finally added his thoughts. "Man, I'd love to dip in some of that."
"Get in line, man!"
It was Brandon teasing about a turn with the mystery girl, which struck a jealous cord and provoked her to scream out another deliberate earful. "Oh-oh-oh god, baby. You're fu-u-u-ucking me so ha-a-a-ard! You're so de-e-e-e-eep! You're dick is so-o-o-o bi-i-i-ig! I love it! God I looove your dick. Oh go-o-o-od, I've never been fucked so ha-a-a-ard and de-e-e-eep!"
"Now that's a wild chick, bro. Betchya she could take us all on. Parallel park her between us and we could double up."
Steve fanned his fingers into her black bob, and made a fist over her hair. He pulled her head back as his pelvis banged against her butt and he plowed into her snatch. He kept pulling back on her hair, forcing her to arch her back and raise her torso. Her tits came up from the table, and using a second hand to reach to her breast, he squeezed it as he brought the weight of his body forwards. At this point she stood in front of the table bent forwards at the waist but arched dramatically until her head hung back between her shoulder blades. Her hips leaned into the front of the table and her arms braced on the sides of it. "God damn you got some, umm, good pussy."
His hips were a blaze----she really hadn't ever been fucked so hard and deep before. The bully-asshole was making a woman out her and then some. Electricity began to buzz through her pelvis again and it suddenly seemed like she might get another climax out of this. "Oh god, baby. Make me come! Make me come hard, baby, ple-e-e-ease! Take my pu-u-u-ussy and make me co-o-o-o-o-ome!" Oh fuck she was being nasty, and Brandon was down there with his business associates listening to it all.
Steve pulled back on her hair, practically folding her in half, gave one extra deep shove into her, and held it there. He was in the virgin chamber again, he'd popped through her cervix, and an explosion of fluid and electricity confirmed it for her. The feeling of being stretched apart was so powerful she couldn't speak. Brandon would never get to hear of this part. But even if she could find a voice inside her over stimulated body, she wouldn't have screamed a thing. This feeling that she was feeling, the overwhelming satisfaction of a man so deep inside her, the tingle that traveled from head to toe, the air sparking in her lungs, the heat forming along her spine, the contracting clit that felt like someone was pulling on it, this was truly intimate. It was something between her and her domineering lover----a connection that could never be undone. She would never do anything to cheapen this moment and she would never let it go. It was pure, and belonged only to Steve.
He took several slow strokes, each reaching the tight chamber. It was easier this time. In this position he had to take short movements to retain that deep, deep insertion, and after a few more baby-strokes he pulled out a ways, and resumed a quicker, harder pace, but couldn't quite breech the chamber. A sense of loss caused a sigh, but the increased motion was almost as satisfying, and it didn't take long before the table was rocking and it was only Steve's tight hold on her waist and hair preventing her from tipping forwards onto the floor. She shut her eyelids, and red and purples swirled about like glowing fairies. She was so close to coming. Steve was bringing her there again. His big dick was bringing her so close, so wonderfully close.
He grunted out as he fucked her hard, fast and deep, "You're really getting some now, Sweetie-pie."
Oh god was she ever. But when she opened her eyes she saw him staring out of the window, speaking in Brandon's direction. Fuck! She needed his direct attention for her sexual nirvana to continue. She needed intimacy or it just wouldn't be the same. In the large window's reflection, she caught Steve behind her, banging her ass like it was a faulty video game controller. She thought back to all the people who'd accused her of being a model, and there she was bent over like a throwaway porn star. She wasn't about to be someone's grudge fuck, she was to be worshiped. She needed those chocolate eyes on her.
"I'm no one's Sweetie-pie. I wa-a-a-ant mine, baby. Give me miiiiiine."
He looked back down on her and grunted, low enough to not be overheard. "Is that right. Uhhh, you want yours, huh? Uhhh, you want my dick, huh? Uhhh, You want it bad? Uhhh, yeah you do, cuz you're a bad, bad girl. Uhhh, maybe daddy needs to fuck his bad, bad girl in a bad, bad way!"
OK, she was still way, way off from exemplifying a class act, but that hardly mattered, not as long as she was the object of obsession----as long as it was her perfect naked form that had "daddy" so riled up. "Oh god, yes! Oh god, that's what I neeeeed!"
She looked back over her shoulder, his hand still laced into her hair. She caught his eye as he steadily pounded against her ass so hard they could probably hear the meaty thuds down below. But unlike earlier, she became riveted to his onyx-black pupils surrounded now by flecks of amber, and was unable to look away as his aggressive dick drove punishingly deep into her tight, wet snatch. The heavy crest of his eyelids raised and set off a twitch in her spine, causing her mouth to fall open as she gasped for air. His jaw tensed, his nostrils flared and the center of his brow pinched and relaxed in rhythm with their sex, but his pupils remained as tenacious as two nail-heads. And his unflinching focus was all it took to put her in her place. As his body jolted against hers so hard her tits swung wildly in front of her, she experienced the male female dynamic for what it was. She made deals fall apart because men couldn't keep it in their pants around her. She caused boyfriends to fuckup at work because they'd do anything her pretty mouth said. She brought rich old men to the brink of a heart attack because they wanted a piece of her young, pretty, little self so badly. And for that she needed to be punished. And she finally found herself a big-dicked bully willing to give her what she so deserved.
And what she...
He took a wide stance behind, like a rodeo rider reining her in by the hair. But his body did all the bucking, even bending at the knees to utilize the power of his hairy thighs. In and out went his veiny, hard cock and back and forth she teetered on the table. His grip on her hair firmed, and he began to snap his hips at the end of each stroke, making his balls whap at her fortune-sized, strip of pubic hair. He continued to deliver one explosive thrust after another, his dick going all the way in, reshaping her pussy and rearranging her organs, as his wide, boxy hips jolted into her ass cheeks and momentarily transformed her round perfectly curved ass into a squashed oval. The impact on her toned butt produced a slapping as sharp as a basketball striking a gymnasium floor. And they came in quicker and quicker succession, like someone dribbled the basketball closer and closer to the ground. And almost as prominent as the sound of her ass taking a beating was the sticky noise of her drenched pussy, scrunching and squeezing around his blur of a cock. She'd never been so thoroughly stuffed, so thoroughly fucked or so thoroughly satisfied. Physically she felt like he was splitting her in two. Mentally she felt like he was splitting her in two.
It was too much to handle, way too much, but she was beyond stopping. For several minutes they read each other's faces, peering into the psyche, recognizing their fierce fucking was mirrored deep within the soul. She allowed more than his cock in, his straight, determined brow and clamped, stern jaw pierced a submissive, tender spot she hadn't known existed until right that very instant. Body and soul, she was his, and she loved it. She would do anything for this handsome, bully of a man. And with their eyes still bonded she began to whimper through a fraught, open mouth, silently confessing the totality of her surrender. Her face then crumpled and she white knuckled the table cloth as he continuously sunk into her, causing the table to scoot a half-inch forwards and another monstrous wave of pleasure that left goose bumps on her arm.
He released her hair and took hold of both shoulders. He now resembled a biker clutching the grips of a chopper, and he appropriately increased the horse power that drove his pelvis forwards. Their gaze lingered on, and he seemed to display more and more strength in both his Italian eyes and his brawny legs. He was relentless, but she fervently took his cock as hard as he could give it, loving every deep, fat inch. He bent her shoulders towards him, forcing an even greater arch in her back that lowered her waist and caused her ass to rotate upwards. This meant his cock-head pushed harder along the upper wall of her vagina, and forced the lower part of his shaft to obliterate her clit as it plunged in up to its base. Every jolt caused a trickle of sweat to fall further down her face. As she looked back at him, another stream circled her brow and came down between her high cheekbone and black bob.
He spoke through gritted teeth. "I love the green in your eyes. Greenest thing I've ever seen. Fuck you are hot!"
Patrick's forwardness had made her feel like the hottest girl there. Steve's intensity made her feel like the hottest girl ever.
He was also sweaty, and it added to the wicked noise his pelvis made against her ass cheeks. With her back arched so severely and her long svelte neck wound so far over her shoulder, her peripheral vison observed the glistening dewy perspiration down her lower back. The gutter of solid flesh between Steve's shirt flaps glared with wetness, the black letters of his bad-boy tattoo appearing freshly painted on and a light mist covering his five-o-clock shadow turned his jaw into shiny, gray steel.
He relaxed his jaw and spoke over his breath. "Fuck you've got some good pussy on you. Goddamn you are sooo tight. So fine and tight and hot. Come on my cock. Like before, come all over it. You're so fucking bad. You need my cock, don't you? The bad little girl needs my cock bad. You need it deep!" He jammed his hips forward to illustrate his point, and it made her wheeze.
"I do, baby!" Her winded lungs limited her to frantic yells. If Brandon was still on the patio he'd be getting another earful. "Take my pussy! Take it with your big cock! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Like that! Oh baby, just like that! I need it just like that. Oh god baby you are going to make me come. Oh god you fucker, I'm going to come on your big dick. Oh god you fuck so good! Oh god my pussy feels good! Oh god, baby, you make my pussy feel sooo good!"
"Shit bro, she's going off again."
The sound of Patrick's voice incited Steve to let go of her shoulders and grab her tits. He squeezed them hard, flattening them to her chest, and basically using them to keep her upright and her back arched. He eased his grip on her left one so he could knead it roughly, finishing with a pull on her hard nipple. Then he gripped that tit against her chest and kneaded her right breast.
Brandon's voice broke her trance. "Damn, it's been close to twenty minutes, right? What a trooper!"
She looked down from Steve's eyes. She swiveled her head forwards, and gave a cat like scream, "Ooooohhhhh-yeaaaahhhhhhh!" Straightening her neck seemed to release the heat from her pending orgasm, and it flowed up her spine into her head. Then came a sensation like her entire body was submerged in salty bathwater, causing her to cry out again. "Ohhhhhh, baby, yeeeaaaahhhhh!" Cool air burst into her lungs, inflating her next outburst into breathy shrieks. "Oh god, baby, you're big dick is in sooo deep! Oh baby, don't ever stop! Don't ever! Don't ever stop fucking me, baby. Oh god I love you so much for this! Give me all of it. I want all of your huge dick! I love your dick, baby. I love it. And I love you for giving it to my pussy soooooo good!"
"I wonder if she takes requests."
"No shit, ha-ha-ha!"
"The guy fucking her has my respect big time."
"She's stroking his ego. Probably a small dicked middle-aged man."
"Not even! Bro, that up there is a pussy getting totally destroyed."
It really did alleviate the sort-of-guilt she harbored to hear Brandon indulging Patrick and his workmates in his boys-will-be-boys banter, and her next outburst was spoken with even more bite. "Take my pussy, baby! Take it with your huge dick! Shove it in! You're so fucking huge! Oh god, baby, I'm going to come so fucking ha-a-a-a-a-ard!"
Steve shoved her back down, mashing her tits against the table and making her puckered, sensitive nipples shriek against the woven tablecloth. She dropped her shoulders and rested her cheek on the table, leaving only her ass sticking upwards. Steve took hold of either cheek, really digging in his big fingers. Taking full control, he moved her ass for her, jerking it back onto his cock. He took deep, full, hurried strokes, and the way his fingers shook and strained, she understood he was nearing a climax.
"I'm almost there, babe. Almost!"
Babe? Was that meant to sound as tender as it did? Before she could question it further, her hand shot back to his thigh and brushed over his coarse quadriceps. Something awoke in her, something that had remained frustratingly dormant for so long she hadn't realized it was even there, something that had been chewing on the bit for years in anticipation of this moment. As Steve slammed into her, the meaty thuds escalating into loud smacks, the table rocking unsteady beneath her, his hands gripping her ass and splitting it apart for a splendid, nasty view of his dick's love interest, and as her body jerked and slid with the tablecloth, as it bowed and flexed against his massive frame, and as sweat pooled in the hollow of her back, her soul ventured off to a calm plane of existence, where the table top rolled on a soft tide of opaque water and a light warm rain with hidden slivers of ice struck her perfect skin. Mmmmm, it was a mushy inner-beauty she hadn't experienced since the school track star traded pictures with her in junior high and she saw a phone number and "Call me" written in handwriting on the back. It was her first crush all over again.
As she came back into her body she found she was still being banged harder than she'd ever been banged in her life. Her pussy rapid fired internal sparks and her clit throbbed so hard it felt bludgeoned, as he seemed to pound into her with more determination than ever, and appeared to be even harder and bigger than before. And just as she began to feel stupid and a little used for believing anything tender could exist in a moment of animalistic, unfaithful fucking, one of his hands left her ass cheek and moved over top of the hand caressing his thigh. He caressed with her, as she moaned heavily into the tabletop. She felt the wetness on his hand, and knew it was from her. She must've been gushing buckets and leaving a lurid wetness on his front side, and suddenly she was leaking even more.
The fingers still on her ass squeezed tighter, getting a generous handful and using it to tug her ass back, and when his hips collided into it with exciting force, the table rocked forwards and then back to upright. But she realized even in the upright position the table was leaning forwards. On his next thrust came a grinding creak from underneath her, as the brackets fastening the tabletop to its post must have bent slightly. Fuck, she was taking his dick so hard they were breaking the table, and the very thought of it sprung a violent sharp charge that made her head jerk and thump on the hard surface. Oh god, she was close. Real close, and unlike the last, this one was promising to be every bit as emotional as physical.
The creaking echoed with several more smacks from his hips on her ass, and just when she thought he couldn't possibly ram his dick in any harsher, he did. His thigh tensed under her hand, and his fingers shook within the depressions of her soft ass. He was going to come, and she feared it might happen before she could reach her own orgasm.
He removed his hand from hers and slapped it hard on her butt cheek, breaking the hint of tenderness to finish her off with extreme force. He slapped her ass again, and rammed in and out like a man possessed. He slapped her ass so hard they heard it down on the patio.
"I dunno, is he spanking her?"
"Sure sounds like it."
"Oh man, this is too funny. Listen to that!"
Patrick yelled. "She's been bad, dude, you better spank that shit."
"Oh man, they had to hear that. Be cool alright."
"Fuck it. They know we're here and haven't cared yet."
"Too into the moment."
"Too into cock!"
An uproar of laughter came, making her skin tingle. With it came a naughty urge to encourage more bawdy banter from Brandon and his chums. If he wanted to hear a girl getting her ass spanked, than she'd give it to him.
"Baby, make me come. You! You, I want you to make me come. Please, make me come. One more time. One last time. Let me feel your beautiful dick make me come one last time. Let it be you one last time."
She began to force her ass back against him, as Steve rhythmically slapped her butt cheek. The movement loosened up muscles inside her pelvis, and she screamed when the fat head of his cock breeched her cervix again. Oh fucking god! That was what she needed. An accelerated wave of dirty heat and tingling ghosts infused her trembling body. A fresh wave followed each time the fat cockhead plowed into the chamber beyond and the table creaked beneath her.
It left her breathless, and an involuntary stream of words poured from her mouth. Syllables flew out in fits, punctuated between gasps for air. "Oh-oh yes, like th-hat. Oh god I'm cu-uming now. Oh-oh god you sweet, sexy bastard, I'm cu-uming so fucking hard!"
"That's it, babe, come! Yeah, come nasty you hot little girl!"
There was that babe word again, and it provided the last sparkling glow to her orgasm. A straight line of pure tension pulling from the top of her foot, through to her calf, into her quadriceps, and up into her clenched butt, suddenly released. It felt like the key on a music box had been cranked to the breaking point and then out came twinkling ecstasy.
Steve was right on her heels, rubbing a thumb along her anus and smacking her ass into a deep scarlet. He became pure animal, and grunted, "Ungh, ungh, ungh! You hot bitch! Ungh, ungh, ungh! Fuck you are tight!"
"Oh yeah, man. Give it to her." And then her boyfriend said something totally unlike him, causing her to wonder if on some level he knew it was her. "Punish that pussy, dude."
"Fucken-ay Brandon! Yeah man, punish that shit."
"She needs it, dude, so do it----punish that pussy!"
As her eyes rolled back into her head and her cheek jerked to and fro on the table cloth, she brayed quietly to her boyfriend. "Oh Honey-bear, he is." As Steve thrust in so vigorously the table bent a full twenty degrees, she knew he was too preoccupied to listen to her words to Brandon. "Steve's punishing my pussy so good, baby. For you, he's punishing it all for you!" As her orgasm rose off her body, leaving her an over sensitive shaking mess ready to spill limply onto the floor, she clenched her teeth and endured the fat cockhead plunging into the chamber beyond, which had become loose and wet and offered no resistance whatsoever. "Oh god, Honey-bear, he's fucking me so deep. I think... Oh god, I think he's almost hitting my uterus. His big dick is in so deep, it feels so good, and... Oh god, Honey-bear, he's punishing me soooooo deeply he's clear up to my uterus!"
"Fuck! I coming! Oh yeah, this is it. Oh shit yeah, here we go!"
He grabbed her ass with all his strength, and sunk into her vagina until his tightening balls were crushed against her pubic bone. He stood behind and over her, clutching her raised ass. His hips shuddered and they pressed so firmly against her it lifted her knees from the table. His huge cock twitched inside her, the head well past her cervix, as come flowed at the door of her uterus.
"Aw shit yeah, take it. Take it, babe. Take it in your pussy you nasty little girl."
With the last of her energy she cried out, "Oh god, baby. Come in me. Come in me, baby. Oh baby, I love it."
He held himself in place, using baby strokes to blast the last of his come inside her as far any dick possibly could. Total exhaustion left her fuzzy and warm, yet violently shaking. And then all of a sudden she was grasping at a pinhead of consciousness. And as her awareness went completely dark, she thought she heard herself say, "Don't make me fall in love. Not so quickly."
She had a vague sense of herself sighing when his cock finally left, but her voice was very far away. The room then spun past her silted eyes, the lights of the Valley whizzing by and then several white tables across the long, dark, empty room. Something bristly, but nice scraped her cheek. She wasn't on the table anymore. She was in Steve's arms. Her eyes fluttered open as they passed through a door and then the lights came on stark and white. He then set her down in a seated position between two bathroom sinks.
"You scared me there. You OK?"
She was still naked, that much hadn't changed. "Oh my god, did I black out?"
"I think so."
He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The sweat on her body had cooled in the hotel air, and she shivered and then she couldn't stop shivering.
"Let me get your clothes."
As he zipped out the door she noted that he had his slacks back on. She took a moment to look around and get her bearings. It was a pink tiled women's restroom with clam shell basins, and probably located off the back wall of the empty dining room----the dining room where she'd been fucked unconscious.
Oh god, what had she done?
Steve returned with her clothes, handed her the bra and carefully draped her dress over a stall door. "I couldn't find your panties."
Only then did she remember they were in Patrick's pocket, but didn't have the courage to explain that to Steve. "It's OK." He set her pumps on the counter beside her and then nervously cranked his neck around the room, spinning a full three-hundred degrees searching for something, and she assessed his emotions must be as loopy as her own. "Thank you."
"Shit, I forgot your purse. Shit, shit, shit."
She grabbed his shirt cuff, which stilled his motion. He looked at her with wide flustered eyes, and then allowed himself to be dragged closer. She then reached forwards and gave him a big hug. She felt his heart racing inside the huge solid trunk.
"You scared me, babe. That was crazy."
"I'm OK now. How embarrassing."
He then grabbed her cheeks and crushed his lips over hers. His tongue nestled inside her mouth, fluttering against her own. His power and restlessness guided her head, and they kissed so desperately she had to push her hands up through his hair. Her tender read on him earlier had been correct. The kiss filled in the picture she'd formed during the final throes of ecstasy, and what a splendid picture of a man he was.
When he pulled away she grabbed either side of his unbuttoned Oxford dress shirt and wouldn't let him go.
"Babe, they're going to wonder where we are."
She released him. He straightened up and swept her lips with his thumb.
"So you and Brandon, is that a-" She placed her palm over his mouth, silencing him.
He stepped back, resumed his puffed out posture and buttoned up his shirt. "OK, you get cleaned up while I get your purse, and then we'll walk out separate."
Separate----what a horrible, horrible word.
He hesitated as he stepped through the door, but didn't turn back. "Why do you have to be so fucking beautiful?"
She came to the end of the stone walkway and saw the five handsome men looking like an advert for Dewar's Scotch.
"Reggie," her boyfriend announced, sounding more than a little stoned. "Have you been asleep this whole time?"
"Somewhat. I found a big comfy chair in the lobby." It amazed her how little it bothered her to lie. Even worse, she didn't feel bad about why. On her way there, she'd ran through all the reasons she should feel horrible, and even tilted her head guiltily and squeezed at her own shoulder like she was being banished , but it only made her come off impassioned. In her afterglow she radiated irresistible beauty, and nothing could take it down.
She looked over at Steve, who scratched his head and diverted his gaze towards the view of the Valley. It was cute. She now made the big, strong man nervous.
"I've got good news," Brandon said as she walked into his arms. He then hugged her and kissed her cheek. "So get this----I got a text from the CFO saying the Titan deal stands. I couldn't believe it so I checked it out with Hall, and apparently the CFO was so pissed at me he took it straight to the partners. It totally backfired. They were pissed when they heard our agreed upon contract had been internally manhandled. Anyhow, they've even agreed to the extra five percent. It's done, Reggie, your man did it."
"Congratulations! See, I knew you could." Then she looked at all the smiling faces, and added, "Didn't I tell you guys he would fix it? If I didn't know better I'd think my boyfriend was working for all of you."
"This is still making GRG a ton of money." He turned to Steve. "I'll draw up the papers with legal tomorrow. Oh, and hey, Reggie, did you know these guys are located right near your office? From the sounds of it, it might even be the same building."
"I had no idea." She felt her cheeks warming. And then they burned when she looked over at Patrick and saw his big shit-eating grin. What an asshole. The more she saw of him, the more she disliked him. He was way too fake. Why hadn't she seen that earlier?
"Anyhow, maybe you can meet me for lunch and pick up the papers. I'd come by there, but I'm going to be slammed tomorrow, so I thought maybe you could drop them off for me. What do you think?"
She hadn't even thought about tomorrow, or how things would be from now on. She would be keeping her blinds tightly drawn, that's all she knew for certain. Even still, she'd eventually run into Steve, and had no idea how that encounter would play out. "Sure," she finally agreed, opting to just get it over with tomorrow and diffuse any ideas about repeating her mistake. Because it was a mistake! No matter how good she felt inside, she couldn't make that mistake again.
But even as Brandon's hand roamed her shoulders, her attention drifted to Steve. His thick, black hair tumbled lightly in the wind, and she imagined he was on a sailboat, taking her on a day trip up the coastline.
Patrick then shouted, "I'm not all that busy tomorrow afternoon. Bring it by my office." He then patted the pocket holding her panties and winked. "I expect to be slammed the rest of the day, though."
Steve caught all this, and his meaty hand flew up behind Patrick and he firmly nudged the back of his head.
"Bro, what the fuck?"
"You're being rude, asshole." He stepped out from the other side of Patrick. "I'll be free. I can even come by your office." He was staring at her now, and it was the first time she'd looked into his wet-chocolaty eyes since their kiss. They were so sweet. Maybe earlier she'd mistaken all his anger with his jealousy. God damn it, her resolve was already weakening. But she'd limit him to friendly chatting tomorrow. No funny business. Oh god, that was such a lie.
The four of them left rather quickly after that, while she and Brandon spent their last few minutes with the magnificent view.
"Kind of a fun bunch of guys, don't you think?"
She took Brandon's hand, and stroked the top. "They were alright."
"I don't know about Steve."
"Really? I thought he was the nicest of the bunch."
"Are you serious? He's a complete hard-ass."
"He is, but he's not just a hard ass." She drew curly paths between his wrist and knuckles.
"You should've heard Patrick's impersonation. Spot on. Apparently his nick name is Big Blade." He laughed. "What a piece of work, huh?"
"I didn't really find Patrick to be all that funny."
"No? Weird, out of all of them I thought he'd be your type."
"My type?" Her eyes widened. "As in, my type?"
"Oh Honey-bear, you are so stoned." She kissed him gently on the lips. "You're my type."
"Hmmm... We're you flirting with those guys? Because that's a guilt induced line if I've ever heard one." He stared intently at her. "Jesus, I just noticed how green your eyes are. They're practically glowing."
"Tonight wore me out. My eyes are just telling you how exhausted I am. In fact, we should probably get going before I collapse." Lacing her fingers into his, she broke eye contact to spin around, until her hands were across her tits and his draped over her shoulders as her back pressed against his chest. She began to walk back up the path that way, wearing him like a coat.
"If it's any consolation, you don't look tired. You actually look really good. Your cheeks are flushed. You seem healthy----sexy. But I'm guessing you didn't save anything for getting up to no good back at the house?"
Reagan just had the most incredible sex she'd ever experienced, and now a loving man to hug and go home with. She pulled his arms tighter around her, allowing the moment to be as exciting and satisfying as it felt.
She hummed pleasantly. "That sounds really nice, Honey-bear, but I can't remember ever being so worn out. And I think I'm going to need a long night's sleep before tomorrow." She mused on the moon as it floated in a lonely corner of the sky. "Thanks to you I now have a very busy day ahead of me."
"That you do."
"Yeppers, busy, busy, busy."
"I love you, Reggie."
"I love you too." Her heart drummed in her breasts. "And I mean forever, Honey-bear----for always and forever."
And she did mean forever.
Brandon was in her head, she could feel him in there. It was the wonderful connection of being in love. A night of sex with another man hadn't changed that at all. And as Brandon walked her back to the hotel she wondered if the two men could coexist within her. What a life she'd live if Brandon's humor, thoughtfulness and similar tastes could live alongside Steve's domineering masculinity and amazing sexual prowess. She giggled softly and lowered her and Brandon's hand down to just below her stomach, inches from Steve's fresh, potent semen. She thought back on Steve's earlier gibe, about her personal motto being------what Sweetie-pie doesn't know won't hurt him. Maybe the big jerk knew her better than she knew herself. She giggled again when Brandon lowered their hands even further, coming dangerously close to discovering her lack of panties, and oh what a buzz she got from that.