Raw

She’s making this too easy on me. I feel she needs to be rewarded for her good behavior. After all, when a dog does a trick or behaves, he gets a treat. And so Lexi shall get her treat.

Reclining in the chair, I place my arms behind my head, and her gaze drifts up to my exposed forearms. She likes the tattoos. A stupid part of my brain is pleased that she likes the tattoos. Snapping my fingers, her eyes come back to me.

Good puppy.

“Lift your skirt.”

Leaning back away from me, she watches me through narrowed eyes. She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. All I know is that she hasn’t moved a muscle. And I want her skirt lifted. So I repeat, “Lift it.” Her eyes dart from side to side, and I know she’s weighing up the pros and cons in her mind. Sweetening the deal, I tell her on a whisper, “If you lift your skirt, I’ll make it so good, it’ll be worth getting caught over.”

Straightening a moment, she shakes her head as she reaches for the hem of her skirt and utters, “What is it about you that makes me want to do very stupid things?”

And although I don’t do more than smirk at her, I’m laughing on the inside. She really is cute sometimes.

Such a shame.

Sliding the material up past her knees, I watch through hooded eyes as she inches the skirt higher, higher up her silky smooth thighs, until I see white cotton peek out of the juncture between her legs. Tipping my head back, I hold in the urge to groan, just barely. Pulling myself forward a foot, without permission, I reach forward and under her skirt, hook the panties with my thumbs and tug. Then they’re gone.

Plain cotton panties.

These panties on anyone else would disgust me. I like my women to dress nice at all times; that includes lingerie. Lexi steps out of her panties and sits her ass back on the edge of the desk. Looking up at her, I ask in all seriousness, “Tell me what you need from me to make this contract legal.”

The stu

Lifting my head a moment, I warn, “You stop explaining and I stop too. Make it count.”

Lowering my face into her mouth-watering bald snatch, I don’t waste time with foreplay. This is foreplay. And I tell myself that rushing this has nothing to do with the fact that she smells so good that I fucking have to taste her before I start ripping shit apart. Softly swiping my tongue up her slit, that first taste is all I need to feel heady. She tastes amazing. Like a pussy should taste. Mildly musky, light, and slightly spicy.

My cock jerks in my pants. I feel the pre-cum beading. I shouldn’t be doing this. She should be sucking me off.

But I can’t stop tasting her.

She prattles off information that I don’t need, and I’m sure makes no sense, just to make sure I don’t stop my sweet torture. And, I gotta say, it makes me happy that she can follow instructions under pressure. It’s a relief knowing when shit gets heavy between us, she’ll cope. At least a little.

Looking up at her from between her legs, I bury my tongue into her wet warmth and watch her closely. Eyes closed, she talks softly as I slide my hands up her body to squeezes her tit, while the other pinches and rolls her opposite nipple. Not able to hold myself back, I groan into her and feel her muscles clench around my tongue. Unbelievable. I’ve never got off this much on eating pussy. But it’s Lexi’s pussy…

Reaching under her, I place my hands under her ass and grip the firm cheeks tightly while pulling her into my face, forcing my tongue deeper inside her. She stops talking a moment and moans long and low. Just when I think I’ve won, as soon as her moan ends, she starts up again, chattering away quietly. Too quietly. I can’t even make out what she’s saying. But I have to give her props for trying.

She can finish. I’ll allow it.

Pulling out of her, I flatten my tongue at her entrance and lick torturously slow, swirling my tongue all the way up to her clit. “Close?” I ask.

Nodding, she opens her eyes and looks down at me through the haze I’m feeling as much as she is. I tell her, “I want you to come, Alexa.”

I would never say ‘You can come when you like’. That makes is sound like a request. Which it is not.

I’m a demanding guy. So sue me.

Lowering my mouth to her clit, I suck it gently in a steady rhythm before sucking hard. Lexi’s hands fly to my head as she begins to grind herself against my face. Her breathing deepens, and she groans low in her throat. I keep up my sexual assault, licking and sucking. The forced calm in her voice spurs me on. The need to make her control break is extreme. I bury my tongue deep inside of her and the dam breaks. Clutching my head, she whimpers, jerking uncontrollably, pulling me deeper into her pulsating pussy.

The moment lingers, and then that moment is over.

Standing immediately, I adjust my erection in my pants, walk around the desk, pick up my jacket and open the door.

“Wait!”

Turning back, Lexi’s face is once again confused. Poor Lexi. She’ll learn. Eventually.

“Where are you going? We have paperwork to sign.” She says, looking more pissed than confused, and pulling at her hips to right her creased skirt.

“I know. I’ll send someone up to deal with it.”

She returns exasperated, “I thought you said you were the owner of the company!”

“I am.” Putting in a cufflink, I add, “Part-owner. Happy will be up to sign anything you need signed. I’ll call, Lexi.”

“Wait!” She shouts. “What’s your name?”

I know what she wants. And she’s not getting it. Not until I’m ready to give it. “Lexi, we’ve been through this already. I’m Twitch. Just…” I half smirk, “…Twitch.”

Turning and ignoring her plea to wait, I close the door behind me and nod to Happy, who waits in the hall. Happy knocks on the office door I just came from, and I don’t bother turning to see him walk in on the flustered mess that is Lexi.

I smirk to myself. That was fun. Straightening my tie, I silently chuckle. My tongue darts out, sliding along my bottom lip, tasting her.

We should do it again sometime.

Oh man, am I pissed or what?

Tapping my pen rapidly on the edge of my keyboard, I confirm what few details I have. “So, Mr. Ahmadi, I don’t quite understand. You own Falcon Plastics, along with Mr.—”

I wait for him to give Twitch’s last name to me, but even as I wait, I know he won’t give me an inch. This guy is not stupid. He knows the score. I mean, he knows Twitch. Enough said. His cool demeanor is intimidating. He isn’t being rude. Not in the slightest. He’s been quite the gentleman, actually, but his character is cool. Almost brooding. He responds businesslike, “Please, call him Twitch. He prefers it. And I would like if you called me Happy. Or if you prefer to keep things formal, then Farid. Please.”

Happy? A strange nickname. Especially for someone who doesn’t look…happy.

“Very well, Farid. I see I’m not going to get any information out of you about my surprise guest, am I?” The small twitch of his lips is my answer. Nodding in resignation, I bring out the paperwork needed for long-term sponsorship. Farid hands me all the company paperwork I need to photocopy; he signs the contact and within half hour, we’re done. And we are five-hundred-thousand dollars up in budget.

And I’m suddenly giddy again.

Farid stares me down through his thick narrowed brows as if he can’t figure me out. His almost-black eyes are lined with thick black lashes; if his name didn’t alert me to the fact he is of a Middle Eastern background, that would’ve been the thing to tip me off. His bald-shaved head shines under the fluorescent lighting above. Almost as tall as Twitch, but much larger in stature, I wonder if he’s Twitch’s muscle. And I can’t help it. My smile widens. He asks, “This means something to you, doesn’t it?”