As we kissed, Mr. Harrison's hand traveled down my body, his thumb brushing over my hardened nipple. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I couldn't help but moan into his mouth. He took this as an invitation and broke the kiss, moving his attention to my chest. His mouth closed around one of my nipples, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh lightly. I gasped at the sensation, arching my back, offering myself up to him.
His other hand found its way to my other breast, squeezing and teasing it in rhythm with the one in his mouth. The feeling was overwhelming, a delicious torment that made my toes curl. I could feel his arousal pressing against my thigh, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that matched the beat of my own racing heart. His tongue flicked over the peak of my nipple, sending shivers down my spine, and I knew I was lost.
Then, as if reading my thoughts, his hand began to move lower, his fingertips skimming the fabric of the chemise, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My breath hitched as his hand slid down to my sex, his touch featherlight at first, as if testing the waters. And when he found my clit, it was like a spark had been lit inside me, a flame that grew with every stroke of his thumb.
The pressure grew, a slow, maddening build that had me squirming under him. His eyes never left mine, watching my every reaction, his own pupils dilated with lust. I could feel my body betraying me, the wetness between my legs soaking the sheets beneath us. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, and I didn't know if I could take much more.
With a growl, Mr. Harrison pulled the chemise up over my hips, exposing my nakedness to the cool air. His hand slid between my thighs, his fingers finding my slick folds with ease. He didn't waste any time, pushing two thick digits into me without preamble. The sudden intrusion made me cry out, the sensation of being filled both shocking and exhilarating.
He watched me, his eyes dark with need as he began to move his fingers, the pain a sharp reminder of my inexperience. It was my first time being touched like this, and my body was unused to the sensation. But Mr. Harrison was gentle, his touch firm but careful as he explored my uncharted territory. His eyes never left my face, reading every expression, every flinch and gasp. He was a maestro, tuned into the symphony of my responses, conducting a crescendo of pleasure that built with every stroke.
As his fingers worked their magic, his mouth returned to mine, his kisses deepening, his tongue probing and claiming. His free hand didn't neglect my breast either, pinching my nipple with just the right amount of force to make me moan into his mouth. It was a heady mix of pain and pleasure, a dance of desire that had me writhing beneath him.
But just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, Mr. Harrison pulled away from me, his fingers sliding out of my wet pussy with an audible pop. He smiled down at me, a knowing glint in his eye. "You want me, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a thrill down my spine.
I turned away, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. "I... I don't know," I stammered, trying to find my voice. I was torn between the desire that was coursing through my veins and the fear of what this all meant.
He leaned closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Look at me, Emma," he demanded. I met his gaze, and he held my eyes captive as he reached down and traced the lines of my sex with the pad of his thumb. It was a gentle touch, almost tender, and it made me quiver. "You're so wet for me," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Do you feel how much you want this?"
I couldn't answer. My mouth was dry, my breaths shallow. All I could do was nod, my body trembling under his touch. He smiled then, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down my spine. He stood up, his erection jutting out from his hips like a sword. "When you're ready to admit it," he said, "I'll take you.
As he picked up his clothes and began to dress, my eyes couldn't help but follow the play of muscles across his back, the way the candlelight painted shadows across his skin. He moved with a grace that was surprising for a man of his size, each movement deliberate and precise. It was like watching a wild animal stalk its prey, and I was all too aware of the fact that I was the hunted.
When Mr. Harrison was fully dressed, he turned to me, his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word as he reached out and grabbed my chin, tilting my face up so that our eyes met. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, his gaze searching my own. "I'll be back," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "And when I do, I expect you to be ready for me."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me trembling in the aftermath of his touch. I couldn't believe what had just happened. A part of me was disgusted, horrified at the thought of my boss taking such liberties with me. But another part, a darker, more primal part, was thrilled by the idea of being desired so intensely.