8. Mack

Chapter 8

Mack

I can feel Isabelle thinking as she practically vibrates in my arms, and then she closes the gap between us and licks at the seam of my mouth.

That's my girl.

She's a perfect natural at this.

With a groan, I let her find my tongue. Her little licks are an invitation to taste her back.

My tongue slides against hers as I tip her head sideways and our lips collide, mouths fusing together.

No shy little pecks for my eager girl. She's devouring me, all hungry noises and ardent thrusts. What people lack in experience they sometimes make up for with enthusiasm, and it's never been more true than in the taut little form of Isabelle Bright, squirming on my lap, desperate to kiss me deeper, harder.

We kiss until she's panting, her skin warm and her skirt rucked up around her hips. And while her little licks and eager sucks on my tongue have my balls pulled tight, pulsing seed to the tip of my cock already, it's the first glimpse of white cotton panties peeking out between her slim thighs that pushes me right to the edge.

"Stop," I gasp as she grinds down against my suit-clad lap.

"No, don't make me stop," she pouts, which frankly, I agree with. I don't want her to stop at all, but I need her to.

"Now," I growl.

She stops.

In the silence that follows, all I can feel is her trembling form as she tries so hard to stay still.

Carefully, I take her hand and press it down against my fly, letting her feel my out-of-control bulge. "This is what you do to me," I manage to get out. "You make me throb, little one."

"Can I see it?"

I laugh. "God yes. In time, though. I might explode all over your soft little fingers if you touch me bare right now."

"I think I'd like that." She gasps after her words register, embarrassed at being so forward. "I mean…"

"No, that's good." God damn it, that's so good. "Anything you tell me will be good, Isabelle. It's okay to be honest about sex with me. I'll keep your secrets, I promise."

"Sometimes I touch myself," she whispers. "But I've never imagined touching a man. Not before right this very second. But I want to touch you, Mr. Emerson. I really do."

I tip my head back, my throat working. Holy hell, her whispered confession makes me want to nut all over her hand right fucking now.

She leans in and brushes her lips against my Adam's apple. "Can I kiss you here?"

"You can kiss me anywhere you want."

Her hand squeezes my erection. "Here?"

I laugh again, because that's even more wild than her giving me a handjob—and it would end even faster. "I told you, in time. After I get a taste of you, hmm? Let's trade kisses."

"You want to kiss me everywhere, too?"

"Of course I do. It feels good." I kiss the tip of her nose, then lick the soft pout of her mouth. "Does that feel good?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Imagine that on your clit."

Her inhale is sharp. Needy.

Good.

Having regained control, I lift her onto my desk.

Her kilt is still rumpled, but it's covering her panties again, and I need to see them.

I set my hands on her knees. There's an immediate spark, hot and sizzling. Her breath hitches, but her legs slide open willingly. I look up at her face, soaking in the needy, hopeful expression for a moment before I fold the skirt up and reveal her cotton-covered mound.

"I didn't…I'm not…" She blushes. I don't know exactly what she's protesting, but it doesn't matter. She's perfect.

I drag in a breath and choose my words carefully. "Isabelle, I want you exactly as you are. Whatever this is between us—" Obsession, desperate need, maybe even love? "—I've never felt this with anyone else. I've never, ever done this…" I trail off and laugh.

I have this girl perched on my desk in the middle of the work day, and I'm making wild promises.

There isn't a chance in hell I'd believe me.

But Isabelle looks at me with the softest, deepest trust in her eyes. "I know," she whispers. "I don't know how, but I do. I'm yours, Mr. Emerson."

Jesus, the way she calls me Mr. Emerson should be illegal, it's so good. No drug could touch this high.

I trace my fingers over the waistband of her panties, along the slice of belly revealed there. "I want to take these off you."

"What if someone comes in?"

I press a button on my desk, locking the door. "We won't be disturbed."

"Then I want you to take them off me," she says, her breath catching again.

"Do you want me to see your pussy?"

She nods.

I peel the white cotton down and reveal the most innocent, perfect cunt I could ever imagine. Blonde curls dust her mound in a wild, innocent way, the hair sparse enough it doesn't actually disguise the shape of her.

She's puffy and pink beneath her delicate curls, her lips soft and full. The little wisps of hair dusting down her labia are damp from her desire, and her sweet, musky scent swirls around me, making my head spin with hungry need.

I bow my head and kiss her mound, right above her clit.

She whimpers.

My sweet girl needs a kiss so badly.

Inhaling, I kiss my way down to her slit, my lips feathering over her folds, learning the perfect shape of her sex. So lovely. So fucking sexy.

I push her legs wider, and her pussy blooms for me, revealing a tight pink hole and the source of that lovely slickness sliding over her flesh.

God damn it.

Mouth watering, I give in to my hunger and lap her up, my tongue big and wide against her flesh.

She tastes as bright as her name promises, heady and delicious. My tongue wants to stab deep into her body, but she tenses as I test her entrance, so I lick elsewhere, learning what makes her go soft, what makes her sigh.

When I latch on to her clit, she arches her back, her legs falling all the way open. A girl come alive, fully, for the first time.

"Oh, Mr. Emerson," she moans. "Mister. Emerson!"

I lick around her taut clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue, then flutter up against the bottom with a lusty pull. I need more of her in my mouth.

Opening wide, I kiss all of her sex at once, licking and sucking. She tastes so fucking good, so right, I'm going to nut in my pants again, and I'm no young kid.

Chest heaving, I yank off her and replace my mouth with my fingers. I worship her clit and her folds, petting her pretty cunt.

She stares down at me in wonder. "That feels so good, Mr. Emerson," she whispers.

I grin. "Time to call me Mack, little one."

She blushes and covers her face with her hand.

Can't have that.

Standing, I keep playing with her little clit as I curve over her. "Show me your face, Isabelle."

Her hand drops away.

I lean in to kiss her, then stop. My beard is probably wet with her slick, and that's a fucking honour to me, but it might be weird to her.

Her gaze flicks over my face. "What is it?"

"I'm going to taste like you."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

I close the gap between us, gently brushing my lips against hers.

She gasps and licks at my mouth. "Oh." She sighs. "Oh…"

And then she's kissing me fiercely, pulling me against her, and my fingers get caught between our bodies, covering her pussy. My middle finger is right at her entrance, and she starts squirming on it, working herself onto the tip. Behind my hand, my cock throbs, pushing forward, wanting to fuck her, needing to fuck her.

Her knees pull up, her instinct right, and the angle shifts. Suddenly my finger sinks into her, all the way to the knuckle, and she clamps down around me.

"Mack?"

"That's it, baby. Take my finger. Take what you need."

She sobs and rocks her hips, reaching between us to clutch at my wrist. "It's so big."

That's only one finger. Fuck. Me. "You'll get used to it as you get wetter."

"Wetter?" She holds my gaze, hot and curious.

I nod. "I want you messy for me, little one. The wetter the better."

Her fingers squeeze around my wrist, and slowly she pulls me from her body and lifts my hand to her mouth. I'm spellbound as she parts her lips and slips my index and middle finger over her tongue, lapping at them gently for a minute before pushing that same hand down back down between her legs.

I can't breathe as my spit-slicked digits meet the heavenly warmth of her pussy lips again. Her breath shudders and her eyes close, her head tipping back.

"I need you deeper inside me," she whispers. "Please. Do it, Mr. Emerson."

God damn it. If my girl can't tell a lie, then I have to give her what she wants, even if she's too tight for it.

"Eyes on me, princess." I circle her entrance with my middle finger, stretching her wider than before. A fresh pulse of arousal coats my hand, let my index finger follow, pushing into her.

And she is still tight, the squeeze verging on unholy, but once both digits are inside her, she softens around me, her body making space.

I groan in appreciation for how good she feels. "You didn't need much help after all, did you?"

She blushes.

"This wet little cunt was desperate to be touched, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she pants.

I hover my mouth over hers, our breath mingling in hot, desperate pants. "Did licking the taste of your pussy juice off my fingers make you gush?"

She moans and clamps down on my hand. Her eyes flare wide, locking on to my gaze, as she rockets to what looks like an unexpected climax.

"Mack?"

"Fuck yes," I growl. "Does that feel good? Ride my hand, baby. Come for me."

She clutches at my shoulders, bowing forward, her whole body transformed by the orgasm still racking her frame.

My hand slips from her fluttering cunt and I unzip roughly, needing her slick on my cock. I wrap my hand around my erection and start stroking in tight, hard jerks of my hand.

Her arms twine around my neck and she presses her still-twitching body against mine, her legs wrapping around my hips.

My knuckles stroke up and down her pussy as I jerk myself, and her breath catches when I rub her clit.

She whispers my name, the Mister a siren song I can't resist, and I slow my strokes, still using my cock but now focusing on her responsive little hitching noises.

"Can you come again?" My voice sounds feral, demanding. Not a question. A command. I double down. "Come for me, little one. Come on my cock."

"Need you inside me again," she whines. It's not possible, she can't take me yet, but I give her the tip, anyway.

I tease my cock against her entrance and I work her clit with my thumb. She clings to me, humping the flared crown of my erection, and I find the right rhythm on her clit that makes her hips move faster, faster, faster, until she's shattering in my arms for a second time and my cock drives forward, wedging just inside her hungry little pussy.

"Mack," she gasps as my balls pull tight, releasing the first pulse of cum into her virgin cunt.

I wrench myself free and paint her thighs with the rest of my release, creamy stripes lashing up onto her belly, her blonde curls, and dripping down onto her clit again.

She collapses back onto my desk and presses her hand between her legs, covering the tender flesh I've just defiled.

I drop back into my chair, shocked by what I've done.

"That was wonderful, Mr. Emerson," she whispers.

And I know that no matter how hard I resist, we'll do it again. If I let my inner beast free again, I'm going to ruin this girl more than I already have.

I have learned over the last two decades that my business instincts are never wrong.

I was right before, and now there's only one option: I have to break her heart.