7. Amelia

7

AMELIA

I haven't been with a lot of men. In fact, only two, and both of them were long-term boyfriends who never truly made me feel the way Jameson does. The fact that I just let him do that to me on my desk at work is still trying to sink in—my heart races at the thought. I can hardly believe I allowed myself to be so vulnerable, and yet here I am, feeling exhilarated and a little reckless. He's bringing me out of my shell in ways I didn't think were possible.

I sit up, brushing my hair back from my face, and look at him. He's leaning back in his chair with a look of satisfaction that practically radiates off him. He looks proud of himself, and honestly, who wouldn't be? In about five minutes, he took me from a nervous young woman unsure of her desires to someone who feels perfectly satisfied and alive. Of course, he's pleased with himself; how could he not be? "Your turn," I say with a grin that I can't contain because deep down, I'm a giver. He once told me that I'm kind and generous, and now, he's about to see just how generous I really am. The anticipation sends a thrill through me, and I can't wait to return the favor.

I hop off the desk, my heart racing with excitement, and nod towards my office chair, a playful glint in my eyes. "Take a seat, boss," I say with a wink, feeling a rush of empowerment as I invite him to let me take control for a moment.

"Amelia, you don't have to do this just because I—" He starts, the protest in his voice mixed with a hint of disbelief, but I can see the way his gaze lingers on me, caught between uncertainty and curiosity. The air between us crackles with a tension that feels almost electric, and I can't help but smile at the thought of what's about to unfold.

"I know," I interject, a playful smirk dancing on my lips. "But I want to." And it's true. I may not have much experience in this department, but there's something about Jameson that makes me eager to explore this with him.

His words about sharing experiences and possibly building a life together sparked a fire within me. It isn't just about the physical act; it's the emotional connection that truly turns me on. For men, it might be porn and visual stimuli, but for women like me, it's all about the emotional journey. The way he spoke about our future was intoxicating, and I want to do this for him right here and now.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

I nod, a sultry smile spreading across my face. "Sit back, boss, and let me show you how much I want this, too."

As he settles into the chair, I can't help but feel a surge of empowerment. This was my chance to take control and show him just how much he means to me. And as I lean in, ready to explore this new side of our relationship, I know that tonight will be a night neither of us will ever forget.

"Take off your pants, Jameson," I command playfully, adopting a mock-bossy attitude that makes my heart race with both excitement and a hint of mischief. "I said it's your turn."

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a thrill through me, and rolls his eyes in exaggerated disbelief. "If you say so. Maybe I should start calling you boss." But despite his teasing, I can see the spark of desire in his eyes as he complies. With a deliberate slowness, he removes his mechanic pants, the fabric sliding down his strong legs, and then he strips off his boxers. When his cock springs free, my breath catches in my throat, and I can't help but admire the sight before me. There's something undeniably empowering about taking the lead in this moment, and I relish every second of it.

As he settles into my office chair, I find myself sinking to my knees before him, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. His impressive 7-inch cock is staring me in the face, and I can't help but wonder if I'll be able to handle it. But I'm determined to give it my all, to prove to Jameson that I can take control in the bedroom just as confidently as I can in the office.

I tentatively reach out and wrap one hand around his cock, marveling at the contrast between the soft skin and the rock-hard shaft beneath it. I begin to stroke him slowly, savoring the feel of him in my grip and the way his breath hitches in response.

"Damn, you already feel good," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. The words send a thrill through me, and I redouble my efforts, eager to pleasure him and to take advantage of this rare moment of vulnerability from my usually confident and commanding boss.

I wrap both hands around his cock, the throb of his arousal pulsing against my palms. A fantasy flashes through my mind, of him sweeping me off my feet, throwing me onto the desk, and taking me with an urgency that leaves me breathless. I bite my lip, suppressing the urge to tell him that I've reconsidered, that I want him to do just that. Instead, I focus on pleasuring him with my mouth.

I lean down, parting my lips to take him in. He's too big for me to take more than a few inches without hitting the back of my throat, but I don't let that deter me. I pull back, using my saliva to lubricate him before swirling my tongue around the tip of his cock. He groans, his hips bucking slightly as I lick him like a melting ice cream cone. My hands work in tandem with my mouth, stroking him with firm, deliberate movements as I savor the taste of him.

I give him a nod, silently communicating my understanding. "Don't hold back," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I want you to use my mouth however you want."

With a sense of determination, I take him back in, feeling him hit the back of my throat once again. This time, Jameson doesn't hold back. He thrusts deeper, causing me to gag slightly, but I refuse to back down. I relax my throat and take him in, feeling the head of his cock hit the back of my throat.

Tears start to well up in my eyes as he continues to fuck my mouth, but I don't stop. I savor the feeling of him using me like this, the taste of him on my tongue, and the sounds of his pleasure filling the room.

Suddenly, Jameson pulls back, his breath heavy. "Fuck, Amelia," he says, his voice strained. "We need to stop."

I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes look raw and wild, full of lust. "I have to fuck you. I'm not cumming in your mouth." He grabs me by the arms and helps me to my feet." He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. "God, you're beautiful."

I instinctively cover my stomach, a habit I've developed over the years. Standing before him, nearly naked, I can't help but feel self-conscious. "Jameson, stop."

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he insists, "No, Amelia, you stop. You're gorgeous."

I try to protest, pointing out the areas I'm most insecure about. "I'm not though. I need to lose weight here, here, and here," I say, gesturing towards my thighs, stomach, and breasts.

But Jameson doesn't give me a chance to continue. He quickly turns me around so I'm facing the desk and bends me over it without warning.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"I already warned you what would happen if you continued to put yourself down," he says matter-of-factly, his voice stern yet tinged with concern. Before I can even register what's happening, he brings his hand down on my bare bottom with a sharp smack.

"Hey!" I cry out in surprise, my body tensing as I feel the sting radiate across my sensitive skin. I squirm and try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he holds me firmly in place, his other hand gripping my hip. "Stop that! You can't just...do that!"

But Jameson doesn't listen. He continues to rain down swats on my bottom, alternating between each cheek. I shift my weight from foot to foot, trying to dance my way out of his reach, but it's no use. The smacks keep coming, each one harder than the last.

"Jameson, please! That hurts!" I plead, my voice trembling as I try to fight back tears. But he doesn't relent. Instead, he keeps spanking me, covering every inch of my bottom with a fiery heat.

"What hurts is that you can't see how beautiful you are to me," he says over the sound of his hand meeting my flesh. "What hurts is that you're questioning my judgment every time I tell you that you're gorgeous, and you tell me no."

I bite my lip, trying to hold back a sob. I know he's right, but it's hard to believe him when all I can see are my flaws. Still, as I feel his hand caress my sore bottom, I can't help but feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he sees something in me that I don't.

My bottom feels like it's been set ablaze, and I can feel the hot tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Jameson, I truly am," I manage to say, my voice quivering. "I don't want to feel this way about myself."

Jameson stops his swats, and I feel his strong arms encircle my waist from behind. "I know it's not going to be easy to change a lifetime of negative self-talk, sweetheart," he says gently, "but the first step is going to be accepting when I tell you that I think you're beautiful. Can you understand that?"

I sniffle a little, wincing as my sore bottom throbs. But I nod my head, feeling a small sense of resolve beginning to build within me. Somewhere deep inside, I feel a strange mix of emotions - the sting of Jameson's hand on my flesh, the tenderness of his embrace, and the confusing realization that I'm somehow turned on by all of this.

"Jameson," I say hesitantly, "would it be weird if we... you know, still had sex?"

He chuckles softly and spins me around, dipping his head to capture my lips in a tender kiss. "I was really hoping you'd say that," he murmurs, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine. He skillfully unhooks my bra, freeing my breasts from their confines. "God, you're exquisite. Don't ever hide yourself from me again. You're only depriving both of us when you do."

I can feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and the urge to shield myself with my arms is almost overwhelming. But the lingering sting of his hand on my bottom serves as a potent deterrent, and I force myself to keep my hands at my sides. I offer him a timid smile instead, watching as he eagerly buries his face in my cleavage.

"I want to adore every inch of this gorgeous body for the rest of my existence," he growls, the raw desire in his voice making my heart race. I close my eyes and lean into him, feeling a surge of pleasure at the thought of being his forever.

And I want him to, too. I turn around and lean over the desk again, this time willingly, my curves pressed against the cold wooden surface. I take a deep breath and whisper, "I want you, Jameson." I wanted to tell him to fuck me, but I wasn't quite brave enough yet. Maybe next time.

His responding growl is low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine. "My pleasure, baby girl, and hopefully yours, too." He steps forward, and I can feel the tip of his cock teasing at my entrance for just a few seconds before it plunges deep inside my pussy.

For a moment, he stills, giving me a chance to adjust to his size. I bite my lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. Once I'm ready, he begins to move, pumping in and out with excruciating slowness. At first, I think he's doing it to make sure that I can handle him, but after a minute of this, I realize that he's teasing me. I swivel my hips, trying to convince him to speed up, but he just keeps up at his punishingly slow pace. "Jameson," I say warningly, my voice strained with desire.

"Yes?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

I can barely get the words out, I'm so overwhelmed by the sensation of him inside me. "Fuck. Me. Harder."

That's all it takes to get his engine revving. He slams into me, and even though my hips hit the desk, it's the best pain I've felt in a while. I swear under my breath as he picks up his pace, a glorious, earth-shattering fucking that I haven't felt in my entire life. Those two ex-boyfriends that I had sex with have nothing on Jameson.

He stretches my pussy to its limits, holding onto my waist as he pounds into me just as I requested. "You agree to be mine, Amelia?" He asks with each stroke of his cock, his voice strained with effort.

I can't think straight, but I know that I want this. I want him. "Yes," I moan, my voice breaking with desire. "I'm yours, Jameson. All yours."

He growls in response, his movements becoming even more frenzied as he chases his release.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Jameson's cock stretches me to my limits, filling me completely as he pounds into me with a fervor that takes my breath away. I can't help but moan and push back against him, desperate for more.

"Fuck, yes," I cry out, my voice ragged with desire. He could have asked me to do anything in this moment, and I would have agreed without hesitation.

But Jameson isn't content to simply ravish me. He wants to make sure I'm fully committed to him, that I'll do whatever it takes to please him. "You'll learn to love your body in all its glory?" he asks, his voice strained with effort.

I wish he would stop asking questions and just focus on the pleasure, but I know what he's doing. He's using sex to manipulate me, to bend me to his will. And damn it, it's working. "God damn it, yes," I manage to choke out.

Jameson seems pleased with my answer, his movements becoming even more frenzied. "Good," he growls. "Because every time you don't, you're getting another spanking." I shiver at the thought, both terrified and turned on by the prospect. But I know that I'll do anything to avoid that punishment, to keep Jameson happy and satisfied.

Joke's on him, because even though it stung and left me momentarily breathless, it also kindled a fire within me. But he doesn't need to know that. With a smirk, I retort, "You talk too much."

His response is immediate and startling, a sharp smack on my backside that sends a jolt of electric pleasure coursing through my body. God, he's perfect. I never knew that this was what I craved in a partner until it was happening right before my eyes.

Jameson's fingers dig into my waist, holding me tightly as his own pleasure builds. I can feel the tension coiling within him, and it only serves to heighten my own arousal. "You're gonna make me cum, baby girl," he growls in my ear, his voice low and rough. And I know that I'll do anything to make that happen.

The unexpected sensation does something to me. My body responds with an intensity I've never experienced before. My pussy clenches, and I arch my back, crying out in pleasure as I have my second orgasm of the day. Jameson's fingers dig deeper into my waist, holding me tightly as his own pleasure builds. He leans into me, his hard body pressed against mine as he roars my name.

I never could have predicted that this is how my day would end. Earlier, I imagined going home to my mom and thanking her for the vegetables and low-calorie lunch she packed for me. I would apologize for not walking to work and promise to do better tomorrow. We would talk about my options for a gym membership for the new year, but I knew I would either forget or never use it.

But instead, I had an encounter with a rude customer that led to the best experience of my life. As Jameson passes me my panties, his cum dripping down my thighs, I can't help but think that my entire life has changed today. And it's only going to get better from here.

"We probably did this in the wrong order," Jameson says, an embarrassed smile creeping across his handsome face, his charming eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I still don't have your number, your address, or even know when we're going to have our first date."

I pull on my jeans, the fabric soft against my skin, and laugh, fully aware that he's absolutely right. This isn't exactly the story I envision telling our kids one day—at least not in the beginning. "Well, I guess we'll have to remedy that, now won't we?" I tease, enjoying the flirtation that dances between us.

He looks as happy as I feel, his grin infectious and bright. "You're perfect, Amelia. And you're finally mine. Just tell me what to do next and I'll do it," he says, his voice low and sincere, sending a thrill through me.

"Well, I wouldn't mind getting a quick dinner if you're up for it," I suggest, my stomach growling softly, a reminder of how famished I suddenly feel. "I'm famished for some reason."

"Couldn't have been those two orgasms," he replies nonchalantly, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "Probably the busy workday."

I pull on my shirt, the fabric settling comfortably around me, and nod in agreement, a smile still playing on my lips. "Must have been," I say, feeling a warmth blooming in my chest, knowing that this is just the beginning of something exceptional.