Flowers for Jill Ch. 03

He nuzzled her skin where it was incredibly sensitive, taking his sweet time to get to the soaked crotch of her lace g-string. Inhaling her musky essence, he murmured, "Time?"

Her hand shook when she lifted it to peek at her watch, and she dropped it back on the table, dug her left heel in the carpet pushing her body up, then held her trembling wrist in her line of vision again, "Thirty-one minutes."

"Plenty o' time to go." Marc opened his mouth on her lapping at her cunt through the flimsy crotch of her panties -just like she did for him. He gave her as much as she gave him, and more. His whole demeanor relaying how her pleasure satisfied him, like pleasing her granted him the same euphoric gratification that she felt when he was on her.

Slipping his finger into the leg of her g-string, he pulled the crotch away from her cunt, and slid his finger up and down in her moisture spreading it. the slick friction his knuckle caused everytime it came in contact with her softness, everytime it slipped over her clit, made her bite her lower lip flinching with half moans every few seconds.

"There's so much honey," he rubbed the lace against her leaking hole, then pulled it back and to the side, clear lines of her slimy arousal extended and stretched obscenely between her panties and cunt, "my favorite breakfast," he licked the strings of moisture twining them around his tongue, "So sweet...the sweetest." With his right hand, he pinched her pussy lips together between his index finger and thumb, rubbing them against each other, then kissed them like he would her mouth.

Jillian squirmed curling her fingers around the table edge, only Marc would fuck her mouth like a pussy, and kiss her pussy like a mouth. She heard herself whimper his name when he slipped his tongue between her nether lips while still holding them squeezed together, and lap up and down then gradually slip his fingers to the sides opening her pink petals like a blooming flower.

"Hold your panties for me." he asked, and she complied hooking her trembling middle and forefinger through the lace, and pulling it to the side. "Just like that," he commended, "feed me your honey, sweetheart."

His tongue explored her intimately, getting to know her better than she knew herself, making wet clicking sounds against her cunt everytime he licked her to scoop some of her juice into his mouth then swallow soundly with hushed, animalistic little grunts.

Her eyes fluttered, gaze unfocused and jumping everywhere until it landed on a display of a hollow metal mannequin and an irregular, elongated mirror that she had set up close to the corner of her office that faced her desk. The reflection of the sight they made was wanton...forbidden, and her eyes were glued to their image knowing full well that what they were playing was indeed wanton and forbidden, not to mention that it put her job on the line. She may very well be escorting her career to the guillotine to be beheaded the second anyone found out about her indiscretion.

Heart rapping a deafening tattoo, she felt his lips form an O around her distended sex bead sucking it, and toying with hood of her clit, all else lost its importance...everything faded next to the intense point of pleasure where his mouth fed on her center. Her toes curled in her shoes, one hand tightened on the desk while the other shook spasmodically, still clutching her underwear as her head lolled back on her shoulders in sheer ecstasy.

She felt her moisture drip lower, sliding in chubby drops between her ass cheeks and gather at the star of her anus. Marc's tongue followed the wet trail several times licking her dedicatedly as if he was priming her ass for a fucking. The idea that never held any appeal to her before didn't seem like such a bad thing right then. On the contrary, the memory of his fingers there triggered a dark craving she would've frowned upon had she not been so high on the pleasure he heaped upon her. She was too numb to think prudently, or even feel the discomfort of her position with the table edge -glass over cherry wood- biting into her soft ass cheeks, or the cramps caused by holding her legs rigidly still against their shaking. There was no other sensation to feel but his tongue licking between her inner and outer labia, then dipping into her tight hole repeatedly in shallow, quick fucking gestures. No other point on her body existed but the snug opening that welcomed two of his thick, long fingers which slid inside her and curled up brushing her g-spot on their way in and out.

In and out he finger-fucked her, mouth latched to her clit suckling on it. Everything sped up against everything, coming together in a crash of iridescent lights that flickered behind her eyelids when she shut them against the blast of her climax. She shook and convulsed against his face, too weak and shocked to moan, the only sound escaping her lips was the choppy gasps and exhales that were choreographed to the rhythm of her inner muscles' clench and release on his fingers.

Her waning strength succumbed to the orgasm's aftershocks, and she thought with a thread of hazy panic that she was going to collapse, but Marc was there to hold her still, like a masculine brace that surrounded her with his muscles and scent to keep her world together.

"Oh my God!" she managed a half whisper-half moan, and he kissed her brow, her cheekbone, and then her ear before declaring in a seductive murmur, "That's one."

She blinked, a spall of sanity tearing into her brain, "We don't have time."

He cupped her ass seating her more comfortably on the table, "We have more than enough time, just keep your legs spread wide for me." his hands slithered forward and pushed her thighs further apart testing her flexibility, and grinned mischievously when they lissomly yielded, "Watch me get inside you," he urged dropping his stare to where his groin faced hers, steel-rigid erection in his hand poised at her entrance, demanding entry. The spectacle's lewdness was intoxicating in a ribald, smutty sort of way, again, forbidden yet delicious -just like everything Marc was about.

He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down along her cleft mixing his precome with her dew, their combined juices making slick little sounds of lubricated flesh on flesh. Lower he went, until his glans touched her asshole where he paused to stroke her with a lopsided smirk pulling at the left corner of his mouth. They both peeked up at each other at the same time, and she lowered her lashes quickly when he licked his lips and canted his head to the right, still smiling that smug, male smile of his.

Before she formed on objection, he ran his dick back up to her cunt hole, and thrust experimentally into her. Her still sore tissues remonstrated against the stretching invasion, and she whimpered shutting her eyes and biting her lower lip.

"You okay?" she felt his nose nuzzle her cheek, and swallowed, "Hurts..." then opened her eyes and faced him, "I'm still a little tender,"

A thread of pride tinged the blue in his eyes darker, and he pushed a little deeper, "Does this hurt?" she blinked biting her lip again, and didn't answer, so he plunged deeper still, "Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head, lips mouthing the word "No", then cleared her throat and said it; his intruding penetration a delicious marriage of pain and pleasure against her pussy that was attenuated by her earlier orgasm.

"You sure? I can kiss it and make it better again." he crooned, but his hips were already moving forward, driving into her.

She put a hand to his waist, right above his hipbone, and smoothed his tie on his bare chest with the other, "Keep going, fuck me, make me come for you again, Marc,"

"Right here in your office?" he teased, "You're not gonna call security on me?"

"Fuck you!" she pulled at his tie when he buried his cock all the way inside her, "Maybe later," a small grin touched her lips and he gave her a sharp thrust as punishment, "Not if I filled your mouth with cock and cum to shut you up."

"Yum!" she yanked his tie again, bringing his head closer to hers to kiss him, "I can't wait. I love it." She clenched her cunt on his penis drawing a harsh curse out of him, "You're a filthy little nymphomaniac, Jillian," he pumped his hips bluntly, stretching her quivering pussy around his thick tool, "do you beg other guys to fuck you like this?"

She didn't, not with anyone else; he was a whim, a fantasy that she acted upon after caging all of her cravings and lustful dreams far too long, but she didn't want to reveal that to him, "What difference does it make?"

Her answer set him off, his brows lowered to knot in a sullen frown, and she felt his fingers dig roughly into her thighs, "Do you?" he enquired again fucking her faster as if to chasten her pussy for ever embracing another cock.

Jillian gasped rather loudly, then swallowed nervously, "No, I don't..." then she added, "I swear." And grimaced at her weakness, and turned her head to the side.

"That's what I thought," he grumbled settling his right hand on the small of her back to keep her from bouncing as his pounding got more feral, and insistent, "you might be a little cum-slut, but you're my cum-slut, and it's my cock you'll be begging for."

What brought that on? Why was he suddenly so intent on staking a claim on her? She didn't need any more confusion to add to the bewildered tangle of emotions that raged within her everytime she thought of him, "How come you can say that I'm yours, but I can't say it about you?" she struggled to keep her eyes focused on his while his cock pistoned in and out of her making a variety of luridly pornographic sloshing sounds.

"Who said that you can't?" he paused for a heartbeat, and she inhaled swiftly, taken aback by his loaded question, and her inability to find an answer. Her vision cleared, and she gulped, "Marc...I don't-"

He shoved his cock into her, and ground out, "Yeah?"

She cried out feeling his encroachment on her body and now mind, complete in all aspects; he wanted to takeover and she was letting him, "Why did you make it so difficult?" she framed his face with her trembling hands, wanting so badly to staunch the traitorous part of her that was glad he took things further than they agreed upon all those months ago.

"I didn't make it difficult," he faced her, and when she dropped the subject, too wound up in her arousal to contest his argument, he kissed her and slowed his thrusts readjusting his stance to stuff himself all the way inside her until he hit all the places that made her squirm at once. And squirm she did, scratching at his shoulders, and pulling at his tie and the lapels of his open shirt as she felt every thick vein on his solid erection titillating and scrubbing her softness raw.

She was so close...his pubic hair scraped her engorged clit, his cock hit her all the way to her womb, the lace of her panties added to the maddening friction of his thrusts, and his left hand palmed her breast through her dress...she was so close, she swallowed the nervous saliva forming in the back of her throat, and heard her own heart thump loudly in her ears, her blood thinned by arousal like it was light with alcohol, yet this was more intoxicating than the hardest liquor, "Marc, I'm going to come," she leaned forward breathing against the place where his neck met his shoulder, "I want you to come with me," her tongue darted out to lick the small beads of dew her breath left on his skin, then kissed him hard enough to leave a hickey, "I want you to come with me," she whispered shakily whimpering and beating her left leg back, hitting the desk with her heels.

"Yes, baby, come for me, squeeze my dick with that tight pussy, Jillian, come for me," he pumped into her faster, then she heard him groan, and wheeze a strangled curse as he released into her. His large cock felt impossibly larger as it surged deep spurting into her, and the power of his combustion set hers off. She had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming, the ebb and flow of her orgasm milking him dry, and drawing out his pleasure. He pulsed inside her, his heartbeat hers for those countable, precious moments, and her cunt gobbled him up greedily squeezing him, clenching against him, spasm after spasm announcing the "Mine." Declaration she couldn't bring herself to voice.

He stilled within her, but she was wracked by lingering, softer spasms still that were too perfect with the taste of his skin under her tongue, and the sound of his harsh panting in her ears.

"That's two." He muttered hoarsely and straightened up bringing her face up with his fingers under her chin.

"I don't think I can take another one." She confessed, but he gestured with his head for her to look at their centers as he slipped his softening cock out of her with a wet slurp.

Instantaneously, a stream of his pearly white cream started to dribble out of her pink hole, and she put her hand to it, then met his gaze. He looked like he was fighting a grin, "'S gonna make a mess." He murmured, leaning his head characteristically to the side, his grin winning over.

Unthinkingly, she brought her hand to her mouth, and lapped at the puddle of cum gathered in her palm, then watched with wonder as his limp cock lurched up, and heard him swear violently, "Motherfucker!" he ground out, all traces of his smirk erased, and replaced with hungry lust, "Eat it off your fucking hand, eat it all off."

Aha! And just like that, she had the upper hand again; right in her hand! Smiling into her palm, she licked his cream, then swallowed it soundly, and licked her lips contentedly afterwards.

"There's more." He rasped, and she nodded swirling her fingers on the plump drops of cum that dripped on the glass-top of her desk, before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them.

"Time?" he requested gruffly, eyes dilated, and fixed on her, and she finally released her panties lifting her left hand to her mouth and cleaning his semen off the thenar muscle arch, under her thumb, and flashing her watch at him.

Nodding resolutely, he reached behind her, and she followed his face giving him a wicked smile while nibbling on her fingers soundly. He divided his gaze between her eyes and mouth barely blinking, his breathing was harsh, but a ghost of his grin shadowed his face when he murmured, "Ready for number three?"

She glanced at his already semi-hard cock, and reached for it, but he grasped her wrist with his left hand, "No time for that," he said flashing in his other hand her budding rose glass figurine that he snatched from her desk.

Frowning slightly, she started to question his intentions, then shook her head, "Whatever you're planning, Marc, it's-" but he was already pulling at the triangle that formed the front of her g-string, rubbing the lacey material between her nether lips, and soaking the already stained fabric with their essence. The pattern of her panties' lace sent short electric jolts of pleasure through her.

"You sound much more agreeable with my cock in your mouth, Jillian."

"How dare you!" she slapped his shoulder, but he flashed her a smile, "I jest, my lady, I jest!" his teasing making her giggle against her will, "You're incorrigible."

"I aim to entertain and pleasure," he said holding her panties to the side with one hand, and touching the clear glass of the flower to her moist folds.

"I need time to recover, Marc," she admitted seeking his gaze, but he merely kissed her, the sapid taste of his ejaculate mixing with the remnants of her pussy on his lips. The flower scraped in circles around her hole, then he brought it to her clitoris, the glass slithering easily with her moisture -and his- all over it.

That's all he needed to do, kiss her breathless while twirling the flower in maddening patterns over her sensitized button. Her hands rested on his chest, sticky with his residue that her fingers twirled his chest hair with, then painted over the flat disks of his nipples.

"Jesus, Jillian, no," he entreated, "this time's for you."

"But I want to touch you."

His right hand shook pressing the glass flush against her clit, "We don't have much time left." He rubbed faster, making sure the top of the bud, where the petals' edges were corrugated and scalloped, scraped across her clitoris until she squirmed and her breath turned patchy.

She pinched one of his nipples sharply whispering, "I can't, Marc, it's too much," but he didn't ease up until her third orgasm hit her in an abrupt wave. She keened softly, then closed her eyes and felt his left hand cover her mouth masking her moans. He thought of everything, she mused in the back of her mind feeling him slip his middle finger into her just to feel her undulating inner muscles ripple and squeeze him one more time.

That last one left her with a sensation similar to an ice-cream induced brain-freeze, and she swayed and leaned against him when she tried to stand up. Releasing her breath on an exhale, she said "I need to clean up," and slipped her panties off awkwardly, stepping out of them and holding them crumpled in her hand and adjusted the skirt of her dress, "Wait here." She held a finger to him and made to turn to her private bathroom.

Trousers clutched at his waist with the zipper down, he asked, "Do you have any Kleenex?" and looked sensuously sexy with his rumpled clothes, and mussed hair, his cock unapologetically hardening again like a flagrant indicator of his lust.

She dug in one of her drawers and tossed him a pack of moist facial wipes, "This is better."

"Thanks."

What have you done? Was her first conscious thought when she met her reflection in the mirror, the second one was a deep appreciation for the fact that she had her own bathroom complete with a bidet shower that came with her deeply rooted hatred of germ-occupied public bathrooms.

What have you done? Was still a predominant query that her sanity demanded an answer to, even as she washed up and dried, brushed her hair neatly again, then sprayed some perfume to cover any scent of sex that might've clung on her. She made a quick job of washing her g-string, and hung it to dry on a towel rack, she'd worn it with a matching balconette bra just for Marc...well, good ol' Marc's impatience had separated it from its mate for the remainder of the day.

She always kept a change of business clothes in the office, but her fresh underwear were in her gym back. She calculated whether she had enough time to run down to her car and retrieve a pair of panties when the bathroom door opened behind her and she jumped to see Marc enter so casually, and drop the used wipes into the trash bin.

"Excuse you!" she smoothed her dress down again, brushing over the small wrinkles that still attested to what they did a few minutes ago.

"I figured you were done," he turned on the water and washed his hands, then his face, and took the liberty of using one of her monogrammed hand towels to dry, before dipping it under the faucet's running stream and wiping his chest with it, "you got cum on my chest, Jill, I have to clean up, too."

She heard herself say, "You look like a male stripper with your shirt open, and your tie hanging on your bare chest like that."

He laughed taking off his tie.

"I'm sorry about your tie." She pointed at the wrinkled, and miserably ruined tie apologetically, and he shrugged, "Don't worry aboat it." his accent so fetching as his voice echoed slightly in the bathroom.

"I have a few sample orders here somewhere, I'm sure there're a few ties in one of the boxes."

He buttoned his shirt and stuffed the tails in his pants, "I'd appreciate another one if you can find it." he'd done a good job of stuffing his cock in his pants again, and adjusting it so that it doesn't bulge against his zipper too obviously despite its large size. Noticing the destination of her gaze, he said "I'm going to have to go like this all day if you don't do something about it soon -after the meeting, maybe?"