by Katy Kaylee
And I would have been content to stay there forever if my biology allowed it, but I quickly felt myself reaching my end. Once more I found one of my hands snaking between us, so I could stimulate that sensitive little bud that was no doubt aching to be touched.
One circle, two circles, three circles and a direct flick then she was trembling all around me, her keening notes barely muffled by her hand. The way she felt when she climaxed around me was unreal and I found myself pouring into her without a second thought.
I let myself stay in her, looking down at her flushed face and closed eyes with reverence. Something was happening, something that I didn’t quite understand, but it felt far better than it had any right to. Gazing down at the woman in my embrace, I knew that there had to be a balance. With so much good, so much perfection found within her, the downside had to soon be coming.
I knew I was in for one hell of a ride, but I didn’t think I minded all that much.
Beverly
I stared down at the calendar alert on my phone, almost not believing it. Somehow, someway, I had made it through one month and two weeks of being employed as an assistant with GSME.
It’d been a week and two days since Fitz and I had coupled on his desk, the NDA scattered underneath my bare ass, and we actually hadn’t had any free time to do anything like that again. I had been far too sore the next day -in the most delicious way possible- and then my period had rolled into town.
He’d been surprisingly sweet during it, bringing me chocolates and a fancy heating pad to my apartment then grabbing me some greasy diner food. It was almost like dating someone, except I knew better than that. No matter how floaty my heart wanted to get about the man I’d given my virginity to, I knew that we were just fucking and that was it.
Well… I also kind of hoped that maybe we were also kinda, maybe becoming friends, but I didn’t want to push it.
Wow. A month and a half at GSME. A lot had certainly happened, hadn’t it?
A shadow passed over my desk, pulling me from my thoughts, and then two small rectangles of paper were set down. I looked up, blinking curiously, to see Fitz standing over me.
I didn’t think it was possible, but he was even more handsome than when I had laid eyes on him. All sharp angles and muscles and masculinity. He made me want to bury my nose into his neck and breathe his scent until I was dizzy with lust.
“What’s this?” I asked, pulling my eyes away from him to look at the papers on my desk. They looked like tickets, but I didn’t recognize the name of the concert on the front. It looked like it might be a foreign language.
“You mentioned in passing once that you’d never been to the Opera and always wished you could go,” he said as if that explained everything.
I couldn’t help it when my eyes widened. “I said that to Jessica, once, when she mentioned a charity that helped underprivileged kids.”
He shrugged and for a moment I was overwhelmed with the gesture. Not just because it was nice, and I knew that the tickets were indeed pricy, but because he clearly paid attention way more than I had ever thought he would. If he had managed to pick up on that tiny faction as he happened to be returning to his office, what else did he know? And that wasn’t even touching on the fact that he cared enough to store away that little crust of knowledge like it was something important.
Abruptly I felt both very important and very small. Who was I to garner this sort of attention? This sort of care? I was just his young, fat assistant who he was using for release from his undoubtedly stressful job. That was it.
Then why didn’t it feel like that was it?
I didn’t have an answer so instead I busied myself with thanking him. “This is… this is amazing. It says its for tomorrow. Should I dress up? People dress up, right?”
He nodded and the discomfort from my questioning how he knew quickly faded. “I’ll pick you up early,” he said, ordering me about in that way that I liked. “I have a dress waiting for you at my place.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. His gifts were unnecessary, but I got the feeling that he liked giving them as much as I liked receiving them. Like they were ways that he could provide for me like no one else in my life had ever bothered.
Wait. No.
I forced myself not to think those kinds of thoughts. Those were happy, lovey-dovey couple thoughts and we were anything but that.
“You could just send it by courier to my place since it’s not until tomorrow night.”
“I could,” he said, voice low in that way that gave me goosebumps from head to toe. “But then I wouldn’t get to see you put it on, would I?”
I felt myself color brightly. “I’m afraid if you saw that, we might be late to the opera and I’ll never actually get the dress on.”
“Oh sweetheart,” he crooned admonishingly. “I’m very good at staying on task.”
I looked all around me with wide eyes, as if I could download the surroundings like some sort of digital map and never forget a single detail.
I had no idea an opera house could be so beautiful. Sure, I’d seen some pictures online and I had daydreamed as a young child, but the opulence that surrounded me was purely mind-boggling.
“You alright?”
I blinked hazily at Fitz, trying to bring my mind back to center. He looked good too, all crisp and handsome in a suit that probably cost the same as my year’s salary.
“I’m fine,” I murmured, taking his arm and clinging to it like a lifeline. “Maybe just a little overwhelmed.”
“Why?” he asked as we walked across the magnificent lobby and it’s lush, cobalt carpet. At least he sounded amused and not judgmental, like seeing me so slack-jawed was the gold star on top of his little gift.
I gestured around us. “How could I not be with all this?”
He shrugged, and I felt his eyes on me. “I guess, compared to you, there isn’t much to catch my attention.”
I flushed from tip to toes at that. “You charmer,” I accused, ducking my head into his arm to cover my vibrant blushing.
“Just telling the truth. If I knew the dress was going to look that brilliant on you, I might have bought more in other colors.”
I pursed my lips at that, not sure what to say. He was right, the dress did look amazing on me. It’s was somewhere between heather gray and lilac, caressing the curves of my body like a whisper of spun silk. It had long, dangling cape-sleeves from each shoulder that made me feel like a goddess, and a generous amount of cleavage. I remembered seeing something similar on a red-carpet review once, and I almost wondered if it was the same dress, just bigger.
No. People who made dresses for celebrities never made plus size wear. It was ‘beneath’ them, or whatever. Maybe it was custom made?
That thought made me flush further and I pushed it from my mind as Fitz led us to our box seats.
And oh boy if that wasn’t the fanciest shit.
Sitting there in the oh-so-comfortable chair, our box curtained on either side, a small table there with champagne in a bucket of ice and two flutes, I couldn’t help but compare it to most of what I’d experienced growing up.
Second hand shoes bought at the thrift shop. PB and J sandwiches because I was on the school lunch program. Sweaters with holes in them because they were comfy and I’d rather my foster parents take a bit out of our clothing budget to spend a little extra towards a digital tablet for my birthday.
The third couple I had been with had tried real hard to provide for me as best they could while I waited for a forever family. I was never hungry with them and I was always clothed. I didn’t have to worry about the father or brother trying to cop a feel like my first family, or the mother tearing into me over each and everything she could like with my second family.
But even with that loving couple, the Pruetts, doing everything they could, they never could have dreamed of getting me a dress like the one I was wearing and taking me to a non-charity opera.
No, I owed all of these experiences t
o Fitz, and I had no idea what I could do in turn for him.
“Hey, you sure you’re alright?”
I hadn’t realized that I had closed my eyes and I opened them to see Fitz eying me with concern. I managed a little nod then breathed in deeply though my nose to dry out the tears that I felt trying to well up.
Geeze, when had I gotten so sappy?
“Just happy,” I murmured.
He looked like he was going to say something, a great expanse of emotions flashing across his face, but then the lights were dimming, and someone came onstage to speak what I guessed was an introduction.
But I didn’t want to be alone in the moment. Or at least not physically, so I slid my hands into his, my smaller fingers curling into his larger ones. We hadn’t ever really held hands and it felt surprisingly intimate. I flicked a glance towards his face to see him staring at our touching palms with a look I couldn’t decipher, but then he settled and turned back to the show.
And what a show it was.
Sure, I didn’t get most of what was happening, but there was something about listening to about a hundred or so experts performing their craft that was just captivating. My body thrummed with a strange sort of energy, one that felt like it could create worlds and destroy galaxies. I leaned forward more and more, my mouth open with my shallow breaths.
I felt like I was being wound more tightly than a top, the strange, musical foreplay hitting all the perfect notes within me. Fitz seemed to feel it too, or maybe he just noticed my own reaction, because as we headed towards the climax of the first act, he pulled his hand from mine and placed it on my waist.
I was both surprised and not surprised as he pulled me from my chair and settled me into his lap, his hands roving all over my clothed body. I let out a whimper and squirmed, almost seeming to do it in time with the swell of the orchestra.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered behind me, so low and wild that I could only barely catch it over the driving tune below. The percussion rattled up my spine and into my heart while the woodwinds made me feel like I could just vault right out of the box and soar. “Feel the music.”
Oh, I did. But I also felt his hand. Wide, warm and seeking, they roved over me until going to my hips, where they pulled my skirt up bit by bit.
An impressive feat considering how much I was sitting on it, but I didn’t comment. My eyes were locked on the woman belting out some verse about how she had been wronged and my body was flush with what was happening behind me.
I could feel his need for me pressing up into my backside, hot and insistent. It was intoxicating to think that was because of me and the music below, both of our influences making his body react in such a visible way. It was easy to see how a girl could become addicted to this power. Fitz was an imposing, dominant, intelligent man who had a whole empire, but it was me who could make him drop everything and drown in lust.
His wandering fingers found my center, and I heard his breath hitch. So maybe I hadn’t worn any panties because I didn’t want visible lines through my dress. I hadn’t done it with the intention that the digits of one hand would gently tease at my clitoris while his other hand teased at my entrance.
But that was exactly what he was doing, and between his skill and the music and everything else, I was wetter than a water slide in just a few moments.
“That’s my girl,” Fitz muttered darkly, and those words made me jolt. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the implicit praise or the way it sounded like he was aching for me, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that his hands left me, and I could feel him shifting under me to pull at his zipper.
We didn’t have a condom, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I’d been on birth control since I was sixteen to calm down my period’s habit of throwing out my back and making me upchuck anything I ate, so it wasn’t like there was a risk of pregnancy, but there was something so much more intimate about him behind inside me without that little layer of latex. I remembered always swearing to myself that I would double up on protection -after all, birth control only prevented pregnancy, not STDs- but I knew that Fitz was clean and obviously I was too considering he was the only one who had ever touched me.
And boy, did he know how to touch me. Two of his fingers slid into me, pumping slowly before gathering as much wetness as they could and pulling out. I was mystified at his goal for a moment, caught up in the music and everything else, but then I heard him slicking himself up behind me.
Oh.
The thought of his large hand wrapped around himself, smearing my wetness along his length was almost enough to make me spin out of orbit entirely, but then he was lifting me up just enough for his swollen head to press at my entrance.
I let out a gasp, because how could I not. Even after the two times we’d been together he still felt just as big. I supposed it took time to get used to such a large, foreign object invading my body, but I didn’t have time to think about it before he was sliding in.
He took his time, he really did, but there was only so much I could stretch in our situation. I was flooded with pleasure, but at the same time there was a straining sort of burn that lit me up from my center all the way up to my throat.
I groaned, that euphoria and discomfort welling up at the same time, but he just put his hand over my mouth, allowing me to nip and suck at his fingers to distract myself. I could still smell myself on them, then taste myself, and it made everything he was doing to me that much sharper.
He thrust, I cried out into his hand, and the music jumped up several notches as the woman below laid out her plans in some language I didn’t know. I read in the program that this was where she told the audience just how her revenge was going to go, but the details were fuzzy beyond that. All there was, was Fitz, me, and what he was doing to my body.
He thrust into me like a man possessed and I took it. Greedily so. I wanted all of him. The pleasure, the stretch, the burn. His fingers dug into my hips and I hoped that there would be bruises in my pale skin the next day. Proving that he wanted me. Me! Of all people.
I could only hold onto the arms of the chairs as he pistoned me up and down. I could tell that the song was coming to an end and so was he, but I wasn’t quite there myself yet.
“Please,” I heard myself whine into his palm.
“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” His voice was doing that thing again. The thing where it made me throb from head to toe.
Baby Girl…I loved it when he called me that.
“More,” I panted, still unable to formulate a full sentence when he was so deep within me.
And he gave me more. His arm snaked around my front and slid around my apex. The pressure was almost too much, and I jerked my hips up into his fingers frantically. I was faintly aware of him chuckling behind me, then his teeth set into my shoulder in a love bite that would definitely be visible in my dress.
That was just what I needed, apparently, because then I was coming undone around him, the world dissolving into a spectacle of light and beautiful sound. There was a high-pitched keen that I was certain was myself until I remembered that Fitz’ fingers were definitely in my mouth. It was only after wave after wave of my orgasm washed over me that I realized it was the opera singer hitting her final note, a powerful and long cry that reverberated through my body.
Right when her vibrato was hitting its fullest, I felt Fitz jerk several times in me, his thrusts losing all their rhythm until he was spilling out his own orgasm.
Huh, I guess all three of us finished together.
Eventually her powerhouse of a note ended, leaving Fitz and I just panting there raggedly. I couldn’t move, too drunk on my body’s own happy chemicals, and I just sagged back against him.
Although everything was still so new, shiny and definitely overwhelming, I kind of had a feeling that I could get used to it. Wouldn’t that be something?
Fitz
“Breathe, sweetheart, you have to remember to breathe.”
There
was the tiniest little groan from under my desk and then Bev’s warm mouth was wrapping around me again, her tongue licking at my needy head like it was a lollypop.
I held onto the edge of my desk, possibly the only thing keeping me from grabbing either side of her head and thrusting into that perfect, sinful little mouth like I wanted to. I had come to work expecting a lot of things to get done, but for one I wasn’t one of them.
Bev seemed to have other ideas, however, and that was how she ended up kneeling under my desk, giving me the most earnest blow job I had ever had.
Needless to say, life was going pretty amazingly. I felt more alive than ever, noticing and appreciating things all around me that I normally didn’t have time for. I woke up every morning looking forward to that day’s events instead of feeling like I had to slug through them for some payoff way on down the line.
It helped that Bev was letting me take charge of her sexual education with all the fervor that one might expect from a straight A student. It’d been a week since the opera and she was over at my house almost every other night. Some nights I just went down on her, relishing how she came apart at my mouth and I would spend myself by my own hand across her naked body. Sometimes I would take her, growing less and less gentle with each time.
Not that Bev didn’t deserve all the gentleness in the world, but she was voracious. Always begging for more, and harder. How could I deny her, always looking so ravished and thoroughly fucked across my dark sheets? I couldn’t.
But for all our fooling around, for all that I had taught her about my body, what she was doing under my desk was entirely new.
She wasn’t an expert, by any means, and I heard her gag more than a few times as she tested how deep she could take me. But her hand was wrapped around my base, trying to meet her mouth as she bobbed on me, and I was doing just fine.
She pulled back once more and laved along my length, the long flat of her tongue making my whole body burn like it was on fire. I didn’t know how that could possibly be a pleasant sensation, but it was.