NSFW (Regular Sex Issue #6) (2 page)

Roughly
translated, I think he’s telling me to get my cock out.

I can’t stop
looking at Gemma’s body. She’s touch-me curvy, all smooth, supple skin, and she
seems to shimmer in the sunlight. I told you there was a hint of angel about
her, didn’t I? If angels look like this I’ll sign up for the priesthood right
now. Or actually, not right now. After today, Scouts honour.

I pull my belt
free of my trousers and lay it on the table, trying to keep my movements
functional rather than provocative. This isn’t supposed to be about how much I
can turn my almost naked secretary on.

She doesn’t seem
to know where to put her hands or her eyes. She tries clasping her hands in
front of her, and I almost tell her to stop because it makes me want to bind
her wrists together with my discarded tie.

When she puts her
hands behind her back and stands up straight, every eye in the room, male and female,
drops to stare at her pushed out rack. Her nipples stand stiffly to attention,
as if she’s been caught outside in a cold snap. I decide in that moment that
being warm is overrated. I want to move to Alaska with Jemma Walker and spend
my days worshipping her bare, erect dusky pink nipples.

As for her eyes,
she doesn’t seem to be able to lift them above my crotch. Is she hoping that my
trousers stay on? That I won’t push this all the way because then she’ll have
to match me? Or is she salivating, waiting to see my cock? I hope it’s that
one. It’s been hell on earth keeping my hands off her for the last six months, and
now that we’ve come this far I don’t think I can go another day without fucking
her beautiful brains out.

Here goes. I
lower my trousers and lay them on top of my shirt, and then without preamble I
slide my black trunks off too and stand up straight. There we go. I’m stark
bollock naked in the middle of a business meeting.

My cock feels
HUGE. I mean, MASSIVE. It’s swollen solid with lust, both because I’m naked in
an inappropriate place and because Jemma is almost as naked as I am across the
room from me.

This is like dirty
tennis; I’ve batted the ball back onto Jenna’s side of the court.

She doesn’t miss
a beat, hooks her thumbs under the sides of her little panties and wriggles
them down her thighs. Ace! Game, set and match to Jemma Walker.

God, I wish I was
standing behind her right now, because she’s just bent down to step out of her
panties. I’m so glad that screamingly expensive interior designer insisted that
the boardroom table be glass. She straightens with her panties in her hand and
lays them primly on her folded pile of clothes, then she looks right at me and
shoots me her usual professional smile. Nothing about her expression tells me what’s
going on behind her eyes. Women don’t know how easy they’ve got it not to have
an appendage on their body that can’t lie even when their mouth does.

I would take ten
years off my life for the chance to let my gaze move lower than Jemma’s face. I
burn to know if she’s hairy, or trimmed, or shaved. If I had to guess, which I
have, often, I’d say she’s waxed to within a whisper of being completely shaved.
I am a hero in my own boardroom for resisting the urge to find out. I turn
instead to Barone, and I find he’s not being such a gentleman. He’s staring at
Jemma, more like a dog on heat than a businessman in his sixties.

I glance around
the table at the other delegates and find them all equally distracted, either by
Jemma or my cock.

I cough
discreetly and their heads all turn my way, robotic. Barone recovers himself first.
When he stands up, I note that I’m not the only one who’s experiencing a physical
reaction just now, but hey, we’re all naturists together here so I don’t draw
attention to it.

‘Well, I think you’ve
proved your mettle, son,’ Barone rumbles, holding out his hand.

I shake it,
feeling bizarre, and the rest of Barone’s team take it as their cue to get up too.

‘I’m sure you’ll
understand if neither of us accompany you back down to the atrium,’ I say, and Barone
laughs and claps me firmly on my bare shoulder with his clammy hand.

‘Good for your
whole team, this sort of thing. You must bring them all down to see the site
some time.’

I open the door
and shake their hands as they leave. Thank fuck for that. Finally. I lean back against
the closed door as I decide what to do with my naked secretary.

What do I do now?

I’m naked in the
boardroom with my equally naked boss at not even eleven in the morning. I watch
as he reaches behind him and turns the key in the door, locking us in. Even at
this late stage I’m not one hundred percent certain whether the situation
between us is sexual or not. I mean, I know he’s got a raging hard on, but old
Barone said that’s something that always happens, a natural reaction to the
circumstance of being naked in a clothed world.

‘Take a seat,
Jemma.’

I swallow. ‘Like
this?’

He nods slowly. ‘Just
like that.’

I perch on the
edge of my chair at the end of the table in just my stilettos and cross my
legs.

‘That went well,
I thought,’ he says, walking slowly closer.

‘They liked your
presentation,’ I murmur, when he takes a seat beside the table.  

He lifts one
shoulder, and I watch the way his muscles work. ‘They liked your tits more.’

Okaay. So I think
that was a green light.

‘Or maybe it was
your cock that impressed them,’ I say, looking down at it through the table. ‘It
sure impressed the hell out of me, Mr. Spencer.’

‘You’re not the
first woman to tell me that.’ His eyes glint with humour and finally, with undisguised
lust. I uncross my legs and his gaze drops to look at my body beneath the
table. I let my thighs part a little, and as he watches his hand falls to
lazily stroke his cock.

I follow his lead;
drop my hand lightly between my legs, parting them a little wider so he can
watch.

‘Do you like
working for me, Jemma?’

‘Honestly?’ I
lick my lips. ‘I find it frustrating sometimes, Anderton.’

He frowns, moving
his chair closer until his knee touches mine. It’s as intimately as he’s
touched me yet, and then he turns his body towards mine so one of my knees
moves between his. He scoots closer again, and we both watch his hand drift up
my thigh beneath the glass.

‘What frustrates
you, Jemma?’ As he speaks, he flips his hand palm upwards and strokes his
fingers between my legs.

‘You do.’ I slide
my hand along the strength of his thigh pressed against mine.

‘Me?’ he lifts
his eyebrows.

I nod. ‘You. You
frustrate me every day because I want you to screw me over your desk when I bring
you coffee in the morning.’

I gasp when he
pushes two fingers inside me.

‘You frustrate me
too,’ he says, on the edge of his chair now as I open my legs wide for him.

‘I do?’ I reach
under the table and take over slowly pumping his cock. Christ, he could do me a
serious injury with this thing; he’s harder than my granite kitchen worktop.

He uses his free
hand to fondle my tits and I close my eyes for a second because this whole
situation is so deeply, insanely sexy.

‘It frustrates me
when you pin your hair up because I prefer it down. It frustrates me that you
wear clothes because I want you naked.’ He fingers me as he speaks, stroking me
everywhere with his roving hands; my clit, my nipples, my throat.

Suddenly he pushes
away from me, and then a second later he picks me up bodily from my chair and deposits
me on the glass tabletop. My clothes and the delegates’ empty coffee cups fly onto
the floor with one sure sweep of his arm, and then he lays me back and climbs
up on the tabletop with me.

‘Jesus, Anderton,’
I manage as he positions me where he wants me, which is flat on my back in the
middle of  the table with my knees bent and my heels still on.

‘Hungry?’ he
almost growls. ‘Because I am.’

I prop myself up
on my elbows as he bites down on a deep red strawberry from the fruit platter
and then smears it across my lips. I lick at the sweetness, and then he crushes
the fruit in his hand and wipes it on my tits.

We’re both
breathing hard, and I reach for a glistening wedge of fresh mango.

‘Here,’ I
whisper, biting it before holding it out for him to taste too. He sinks his
teeth in, and then he closes his hand over my smaller one and I feel the fruit
squish between our fingers. We’re both gasping for breath when I wipe my
splayed fingers down his chest, watching the juices smear and glisten in his
chest hair.

‘Fucking hell,
yes,’ he says, and then he crawls over me on all fours, bending his head to
lick my tits clean of the sticky red strawberry juice. It’s close to animal,
and I’m wildly turned on by it.

I glance towards
the tray and reach for a yoghurt.

‘Let me,’ he
whispers, taking it from me and ripping the foil lid off. He scoops the yoghurt
out with his fingers and smears it between my legs, coating me, feeling for my
clit as he does it. It’s cold, but it’s still the hottest thing that’s ever
happened between my thighs.

Anderton lies
down alongside me, his hand between my legs and his mouth on my ear.

‘Sit on my face,’
he says, sinking his teeth into my earlobe. ‘I want to eat you.’

Oh, my god, yes
please. I wriggle up into position on the slippery glass and he lies on his
back in front of me then slides his head back between my spread knees. His
hands clamp over my thighs to pull me down on his face, and then I feel his
tongue start to move on me. Truly, I could cry with the thrill. It’s like that
moment when you ride a huge rollercoaster and it goes flying over the crest of
the biggest hill and you feel delirious. His face presses into me, his nose,
his chin, his tongue all over me, licking, sliding, sucking. He uses his hands
too, massaging the cold yoghurt between the cheeks of my ass, inside me,
splaying me wide with his fingers so he can be everywhere. Christ, he’s such an
intense lover, completely into what he’s doing, making sounds of appreciation,
telling me I taste delicious, how he can’t wait for us to fuck. I clap my hands
against my cheeks and my face feels like it’s on fire. I’m giddy, drunk on him,
and I bend forward and lick the mango juices that have trailed down from his
chest onto his cock. When I take him in my mouth I feel his groan vibrate against
my clit as he suckles me there.

‘Jesus Jemma,
yes.’ He works a finger into my ass and I yelp.

‘You like that,’
he growls. It isn’t a question, but I step up my mouth action on his cock as a
reward and he reacts instantly, sliding out from between my legs and dragging
me down flat onto the table with him. He flips me onto my stomach, and I can
feel my body sliding around in the mess of fruit and yoghurt.

We’re both coated
in it, and a dark thrill goes through me when he lies over me, pulling my hair
back as he drags his open mouth up my neck.

‘I wish I could
see what you look like from underneath this table,’ he says. ‘Your tits flattened,
your legs open wide. Is your clit pressing against the glass, Jenna?’

I shake my head
and whisper. ‘I don’t think so.’

His slippery
fingers move under my stomach and down between my legs. He splays my lips, and
then presses my ass down with his weight.

‘How about now?’

I can’t speak, so
I whimper. "Yes. Yes, it is.’

He keeps the
pressure on my ass, mashing me against the table.

‘Shit, Anderton,’
I groan, and he groans too.

‘Is this what you
imagined, Jenna?’ he asks, and I can feel his cock sliding between the cheeks
of my ass as he rocks my clit against the glass tabletop. ‘Do you lie in bed at
night and wonder what fucking would be like between us?’

I nod, almost banging
my forehead on the glass. I’m going to come so violently in a minute that this
table might not be strong enough to hold us up.

‘You’re
trembling,’ he whispers, and then he opens my legs wider with his knees and pushes
his thick cock inside me just as I start to come.

I think I
screamed, and this time I did actually bang my forehead repeatedly against the
table in pure fucking ecstasy. He’s banging me like a freight train, heavy over
me, and I’m coming so hard that I don’t think I ever want sex again unless it
involves the contents of my fridge, a glass table, and Anderton I-fuck-like-a-god-damn-machine
Spencer.

Christ, he’s
athletic. He’s strong, and just so incredibly sexual, I’m overwhelmed by the
animal way of him. I’ve never had this kind of sex before. I know now what
people mean when they use the phrase mind blowing. I feel like he’s short-circuited
my brain back into cave woman mode. I want him to drag me by the hair into his
lair and do me until I can’t walk for a month. I think I might have actually
said all of these things out loud, because he’s suddenly going into me harder
and then his fist thumps down on the platter of fruit as he yells, sending
fruit flying up in the air as he comes fast and furious, his hips slamming down
on mine. I’m going to be covered in sex bruises tomorrow, and I couldn’t be
happier.

Anderton’s body
is heavy over mine, but his mouth moves lighter now on my hair. He picks up a
raspberry and pushes it between my lips.

‘Eat,’ he
whispers. ‘You’re gonna need the sugar for energy.’

I let him feed me
raspberries and strawberries as he kisses the back of my neck.

‘I think we’re
gonna get that contract,’ I murmur, and I feel him smile against my skin.

‘You better get
them in for weekly meetings so we can hammer out the details.’

I laugh softly at
his suggestion. ‘I’ll remember to order the fruit.’

He flips me over
and looks at me with his hot, turned on eyes.

‘You do that. But
next time, make sure they include bananas.’