by Ellen Mint
“The customer,” Antony spoke while guiding himself, “is always right.” He thrust in fast, my entire core ramping up in an instant. I locked my ankles above his butt dimples, my ass bouncing up and down on the counter.
Each slam of it brought a reminder of the spatula’s sting. Every spanking sparked a new jolt of pleasure through me. His hands grabbed my hips, tugging me tighter and tighter to his thrusting cock. They dug into my skin, Antony kneading me in a rhythm as he muttered, “Fuck me so hard.”
“God,” I cried in response, watching his face flush red as he switched one hand holding me as the other grabbed my ankle. Raising it higher up his back, he increased his thrusting, somehow delving deeper than I thought possible.
It was my turn to erupt. “Holy shit,” I screamed, “don’t fucking stop.”
“Christ, you’re hot,” Antony purred, his hips jerking faster and harder. I thrust down to meet him, every deep dicking driving his hilt against my clit.
“I can’t, I’m gonna,” I whispered, before tipping my head back and coming. The euphoria erupted into a merciless pleasure shivering down to my toes. A hand grabbed at my breast hidden below my bra, and I clamped down on his cock with my trembling cunt.
Antony’s forehead pressed against mine, the sweat of his exertions slipping down while I stared in awe at the smile. It grew wider with every ramping thrust, the joy in him causing me to shiver. “God, yes!” he cried, his head tipping back, the Adam’s apple rising as he came.
The hand that’d plucked my nipple folded to a fist and landed against my hip, hard. Antony collapsed to me, both of us gasping and exhausted but smiling wide. “So, Birthday girl,” he began.
A loud banging erupted from the door, my heart dashing for my throat. “Antony?” the old lady shouted tersely, “Have you finished?”
He snickered, his tongue rolling around his lips before he said, “Not yet, I’m afraid.”
“Lazy boy. What is he…?” she muttered while vanishing without opening the door and discovering just how devoted to customer service her employee was.
Antony slipped his cock out of me and framed my face with his hand. As the thumb brushed up and down my jawline, he asked, “What should I put on the cake?”
A smirk rose as I glanced to the half-naked cake and turned to the fully naked man. “Your number.”
Without pants or a shirt on his perfect body, Antony picked up the abandoned piping bag and began to write out a three in frosting. I watched from the counter, savoring in the nude flesh, the taut muscles, and the wry face delicately giving me his edible number.
“Hmm,” I muttered while dragging my hand from the top of his pecs down his abs. If this was the end result, I wish more people would get my order wrong.
Antony finished his work and moved to wipe the sweat off his brow. In doing so, it smeared it in the pink frosting. I dabbed it off on my finger, about to lick it off, when he caught my hand. Chocolate eyes stared deep into mine, his fingers massaging my palm. “Birthday girl,” he said in his toe-clenching voice, “you haven’t inspected the second page of the menu, yet.” Pulling my hand closer, he sucked the frosting off and flicked his tongue fast through the fold of my finger.
Happy Birthday to me.
THE END
Ellen Mint’s books, Undercover Siren and Fever are available. Gettin’ Lucky is free across the web. Her next book Pride & Pancakes is to be released by Totally Enchanted. Look for it Christmas 2019.
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