Fuck. It has to be after 7:00 already, I thought to myself as I hurried to my car. I could already envision the chaos of notifications on my phone. I had forgotten it after lunch, again. Where the hell has my mind been the couple of days? I could feel myself smirk like I didn’t know the answer to the question.
The weakness in my legs battling the surge of guilt I felt for standing up Mr. Tinder for the second time that we had made plans for a first date. He seemed nice enough I guess, he certainly checked most of the requisite boxes to be worth a shot. Actually single, employed, all of his teeth. Have my standards really fallen this far? Fucking 29.
A single text notification from Mr. Tinder. This should be good. “Are you ok? I waited at the door but you never showed. Call me when you can. – Brian”
Wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.
The 30 minute drive home seemed to fly by as my mind wandered in and out of flashbacks of what had happened after everyone else had left the office for the day. Fuck it was hot. I could feel the breath leave my chest as I let the moment consume me.
For the last 4 nights I had volunteered to stay and work on a project with our CEO/Owner Stegall Bercland. “Mmph, Stegall Fucking Bercland” I mumbled, smiling, and biting my lip.
Why anyone would bemoan staying late to work with him just to go home and mindlessly scroll instagram was beyond me. Mr. “B” as everyone called him was the owner of BerCo Solutions LLC, a hands-on engineering solutions company that worked with some of the largest engine manufacturers in the world.
Mr. “B” started out with nothing, turning wrenches for his father and had a beautiful mechanical mind for troubleshooting issues with complex engine development and design. It didn’t hurt that his mind wasn’t the only thing beautiful about this 6’4, broad shouldered, chiseled Adonis of a country boy.
He had parlayed his skills and at one point mortgaged everything he owned of value to get this firm off the ground and had made good by turning it into a thriving multi-million dollar business. I worked in IT, I was the epitome of a nobody with no real-world experience, desperately trying to find a job at the height of an economic downturn when Mr. “B” put me to work.
I’ve always had my giddy schoolgirl fantasies about “repaying” him for all that he had done for me, if you catch my drift. I had almost worked up the courage to take a run at him head on about a year and a half ago when he was suddenly getting engaged to a woman who turned out to be a community college dropout that had managed to catch his eye while he was on a fishing trip. I guess a thick ass, a bikini and no ambition can actually get you somewhere if you’re willing to whore yourself out. Bitch.
After he had paid off her new car and some other meaningless debt, she dropped him like a bad habit. I don’t think I had really seen his goofy side and beautiful smile in the last 8 months.
“Until tonight” I chuckled.
Honestly, part of me felt bad for the way I kind of goaded him into what happened. Everything was going smoothly, we were making good progress on a design variant until I glanced to his pants and saw the thick bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans. “Holy shit.” I mumbled softly.
“Everything OK, Beccs?” He said.
“Yeah, just, I..uh.. sorry. I’ve been losing my train of thought a lot recently” I managed to stammer.
“I get it, things have been.. frustrating” He sighed.
“The last 6 months have been tough, Renée kind of fucked up my whole life, I haven’t wanted to leave the house much. Feels like people are whispering about me.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Mr “B”.
He sighed and put on a half smile. “It’s getting late, we can pick this up Monday. Why don’t we split so you can get your weekend started?” He said, stepping from behind the design table.
I shifted to cut him off, my hand touching his chest. “I didn’t mean to dredge anything up, I’m sorry.”
He smiled, placing his hands on my shoulders. His massive frame towering over my 5′ nothing figure. “We’re good, Beccs. No worries”
God damnit, I love it when he calls me that.
I felt my knees get weak under me as I looked down. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling absolute shame or the overwhelming urge to climb this man like a tree. Whatever it was, it had total control over me.
I felt his hand touch my chin. “Hey, keep your head up, yeah?” I stared into his deep blue eyes through my glasses. My brain screaming “kiss him, kiss.. him.., KISS HIM!”
He lingered and pressed his lips against mine.
I felt my whole body start to fall into his when he abruptly stopped. “I’m so fucking sorry, oh my God. That was completely inappropriate. We should leave.”
I don’t know who, or what took over me as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled myself to him. Our lips colliding, my tongue pushing into his mouth.
“It’s happening, oh God it’s happening”
My mind raced. He firmed his stance and pressed into me, kissing back.
I felt my pussy start to ache as my hands started to wander across his heaving chest. His strong hands caressing down my sides until he grabbed onto my thighs, hoisting me upwards. My legs instinctively trying to wrap around his waist as he sat me onto the draft table.
My hips had attempted to buck my thinly veiled pussy against his hardening bulge. It was then that I began to understand the true strength difference between him and I as his left hand held my entire leg to the table, his right fully supporting me upright and beginning to search upwards in my blouse.
I could not believe that this was about to happen. I was subconsciously waiting to hear my alarm violently shake me out of this splendid, carnal dream. Instead, I was the one doing the shaking. I could feel my body almost begin to vibrate as his lips migrated onto my neck and collar bone, the stubble of his coarse 5 o’clock shadow, foreshadowing the roughness of what was to come.
My brain was desperately trying to control what little motor functions I still had as I attempted to tug his shirt tail from within his pants. Success! I silently celebrated as I felt the hot skin of his abdomen beneath my fingers.
His rugged and skillful hands had made short work of undoing my bra clasp and had managed to nearly pull me free of the straps. I couldn’t take it anymore. I began grabbing and pulling at his belt buckle, by the time I got it undone and went for his button and zipper he had brought both hands under my skirt. I gasped a short, sharp breath as I felt his fingers tear my delicate thong aside and slide deep into my eager pussy.
My hands clung to the waist of his jeans, clenching as he worked his fingers out slowly and back in deep, curling back and just grazing my g-spot. My trembling legs not knowing whether to wrap around him or spread wide to show him my willingness to have him inside of me. They decided on the latter.
As his fingers quickly brought me closer to my inevitable, life-altering orgasm; I could only manage to force out 4 words.
“Please fuck me.. Hard.”
He wouldn’t have to be told twice.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/odb9rn/wanting_him_in_charge_1_of_tbd_mf