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Page 35



“Oh my God, you are so crude." Again, her words say she's disgusted. But her hand is no longer at her mouth; it's on her chest, palm covering her breast.

"No, Princess, this would be crude." I cross to where she stands. From behind her, I bend her over and place her palms flat on her father's desk. She's quiet now; all I can hear is her breath.

I flip that sweet, flirty little skirt of hers, the one that's wedding white, pure as the driven snow, over her ass.

The ass I've been dying to grip while I plunge my cock inside her.

The ass I've been fantasizing about smacking every time she makes a smartass comment about anything.

So I do it. I bring my hand back, and -- thwack -- down hard against her ass cheek, leaving a red handprint on her flesh.

She looks over her shoulder, indignant. Yet she's not restrained in any way, and doesn't stand up. "Did you just spank me?"

I grin. "It won't be the last time I do it, either."

"Do women fall for this shit?" she asks.

"You're the one bent over your father's desk, Princess," I note, caressing the place I just hit. "You're also the one who's soaking wet. So you tell me."

"It doesn't mean I'm falling for anything." But she's still as I slip her panties over her bare ass and drop them to the floor.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." I say. "Remind yourself of that when you're coming on my tongue."

"Caulter," she protests, but only until I start to lick her, my hands gripping her ass cheeks and pulling her pussy against my mouth. I make my way over every inch of her sweet lips, rolling my tongue over and over her clit as she stands, unmoving, bent over the desk. The word becomes less of a protest and more of a moan. "Caulter. Oh, Caulter."

That moan again, the one where she moans my name, is the one that kills me. It’s the one I use to mock her, but it's crazy how insane it makes me, hearing it come out of her mouth. I suck her clit into my mouth, and thrust my fingers inside her until her legs are quivering and she’s calling out my name over and over like it’s the only word in the English language she can remember. I plunge my tongue inside her sweet entrance.

“Caulter,” she moans. “Don’t stop. I’m going to -- I’m going to -- Oh my God, Caulter!” She cries out when she comes against me, her juices covering my face.

I'm not even going to give her even a moment to recover. I just stand up and walk over to my pile of clothes, taking a condom from my wallet and wrapping my dick before I return to her.

Her face is flushed. “That was --” she begins to speak.

“I don’t want to talk,” I warn. “I’m hard as a fucking rock and I want to be inside you.”

“Caulter, I --” She’s about to say something, but whatever the hell it is, I’m not about to listen. This girl has been teasing me long enough. "Stop talking. I'm done talking. I've been thinking non-stop about bending you over and fucking you, and that's what I'm going to do."

Katherine's face flushes. "You've been thinking about me?"

"Non-fucking-stop." I slide my hands down her arms, my chest pressed up against her back, my hard cock against her flesh, then run them over her breasts, and down her sides to grip her ass. Her skirt is bunched up around her waist, and she moans as she presses against me. "And you've been thinking about me. Tell me you have."

"Yes." She says it so softly I can barely hear it.

"Spread your legs," I order, and she complies. I'm not playing anymore. I press the tip of my cock against her entrance. "Tell me again. Have you been thinking about the last time I fucked you?"

"Yes," she whispers. I guide my cock inside her, gentle despite the fact that she's bent over her father's desk, her wet pussy practically begging for me to slide into her in one thrust. She's so fucking tight I'm surprised she can take me. But she does, her slickness making it easy for me to slip inside. She pushes her hips against me, letting out a groan under her breath, primal-sounding.

I thrust inside her slowly, my hands on her hips. "You thought of me while you touched yourself?"

"Yes," she says softly. "Yes. Yes."

"Touch yourself now," I order, and she does, rubbing her clit with her fingers. I reach up with one hand and tug at the strap of her dress. It doesn't come loose, so I yank harder, ripping the fabric off her shoulder and sliding my hand under her bra to cup. "Did you come thinking about me inside you?"


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