Judith

The feel of his hard length caused me to jump, nearly tumbling from his lap but his hand was there, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh as he drew me back. I bit back a sharp cry at the sting and he leaned back, watching me with a hunger that was half cruel amusement.

His hand slid lower, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of my panties. My breath hitched, panic rising like a tide in my chest, but before I could twist away, his fingers slipped under the edge of the lace and pressed against me.

A gasp ripped from my throat. I wanted to bite it back, to bury it deep inside me, but it was too late, he had already heard it. His lips curved, not into a smile, but into something dark. He knew exactly what he was doing to me.

Two fingers pushed inside, sudden and rough, stretching me before my body was ready. My thighs clamped down instinctively, but he only shoved deeper, parting me with ruthless insistence. A broken moan spilled out of me, the sound sharp and humiliating in the quiet room.

I wanted to scream at him to stop. I wanted to dig my nails into his chest and tear myself away. But my body betrayed me. Heat spread low in my belly, curling and twisting until my hips moved on their own, grinding against his hand. My breath came in harsh pants, shame burning in my cheeks as wetness gathered between my thighs, coating his thrusting fingers.

“God…” The word slipped out without permission.

He thrust harder, deeper, his knuckles brushing against my swollen flesh. Each movement sent sharp shocks of pleasure through me, making my back arch, my head fall against his shoulder. My hair clung to my damp face, sticky strands plastered to my cheek, and still I moved, riding his hand like I had no control over my own body.

The sound of it was obscene. Every push of his fingers pulled a wet, sucking noise from me, the vulgar rhythm filling the space between us. I bit down on my lip until the copper taste of blood coated my tongue, but it didn’t silence the cries tearing from me.

Tears stung my eyes, not from pain, but from the unbearable truth: I was enjoying it. My body was clenching around him, desperate, needy, begging for more even as my mind screamed at me to stop.

My nails dug into his shoulders, scratching over the crisp fabric of his suit. My thighs shook violently, the tension inside me snapping tighter and tighter like a wire ready to break. I was close, so close. If he kept moving like this, I would come undone right there in his lap, shattering in his arms like a woman begging for it.

And then he pulled his fingers out.

The sudden emptiness left me gasping, trembling, my body still clenching around nothing, desperate for the release he had stolen away. A pitiful whimper escaped before I could choke it back, the sound pathetic, needy.

He looked at me then, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. He knew. He knew exactly how close I had been, how much I had wanted it, and he had taken it from me like a punishment.

Shame washed over me in a hot wave. I wanted to curl in on myself, to disappear, but instead he grabbed my hips and dragged me forward, pressing me down against the hard ridge of his cock beneath his suit trousers.

My thighs trembled as he pressed me down, grinding me over him like I was nothing more than a toy built for his use.

A broken cry slipped from my lips before I could stop it. I bit it back with my teeth, but the sound lingered in the heavy air between us. His chest rumbled with a low laugh, dark and mocking, as if my shame was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

My panties were already damp from his fingers, and now the thin fabric dragged against the rigid outline of his cock. The friction was unbearable. Each thrust of my hips against him sent sparks shooting through me, heat curling low in my belly until I hated myself for the way I moved.

At first, I tried to stay still, to resist, to keep my body rigid. But his grip was merciless. He forced my hips to roll, to slide back and forth across him. My breath hitched, caught, broke into shallow pants. The rough press of fabric against my clit was maddening, a cruel tease I couldn’t fight.

Soon I was moving on my own. Not because I wanted to, but because my body betrayed me again. The ache was too sharp, the need too consuming. I hated the wetness spreading between my thighs, hated the way my breasts brushed his chest with every desperate grind, hated that the sound filling the room wasn’t just his low, cruel chuckle, it was also the soft, shameful moans spilling from my own mouth.

I tried to hide, to bury my face in his shoulder, but even that felt like surrender. My hair tumbled forward in a wild curtain, shielding my flushed cheeks, but it didn’t matter. He could feel everything. The way my thighs quivered, the way my breath shook, the way my body rubbed itself against him like a starving creature desperate for more.

His hands tightened on my hips, bruising, punishing. He slammed me down harder, grinding me against the thick ridge of his cock with brutal force. My breath fractured into gasps. My eyes squeezed shut as the vulgar sound of my wetness filled the room, mixing with the crackle of burning tobacco still lingering from his discarded cigarette.

The shame of it was crushing. But worse was the pleasure. Every drag of fabric over my clit sent me spiraling closer to the edge, every grind a spark that set fire to my nerves. I wanted to scream at him, beg him to stop, but the truth was choking me: I didn’t want him to stop.

Tears burned in my eyes, spilling hot down my cheeks. I clung to him as if I could anchor myself, nails digging into his shoulders through the crisp fabric of his shirt. My body was unraveling, moving faster, harder, chasing something I didn’t want but couldn’t resist.

His laugh came again, low in my ear, vibrating through my bones. He knew. He knew how close I am, and he reveled in it.

The pressure built unbearably inside me, twisting tighter and tighter until it was a knife’s edge. My thighs shook violently, my breath tore from me in ragged gasps, and I buried my face into the crook of his neck to muffle the sound that ripped out of me when I shattered.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. My body bucked against him, shivering, convulsing as heat and shame exploded through me. I bit down on his skin to smother the scream clawing up my throat, but still, he felt every tremor, every desperate clench.

And he laughed again, deep and cruel, as if my undoing was exactly what he wanted all along. Then he shoved me off his lap like I was nothing.