by Tara Sivec
Birdie leans back on her hands on the desk, licks her bottom lip as she looks at me, and I have to focus and concentrate before I blow my load she’s so goddamn hot.
“What was it Tess said? You wanted me to screw you from behind against this desk afterhours, right?”
She just nods, and I watch her swallow a few times while I grip so tightly to the material of her shorts I might just rip them right off her body.
“Excellent.” I nod in complete seriousness, acting like I’m in control and not about ready flip her over and just fuck the hell out of her without making it a little enjoyable for her first. “You get what you want, and I get what I want. Which is you completely. Fucking. Naked. While I screw you from behind on this desk afterhours, so I can enjoy every bit of this sexy body I didn’t take the time to appreciate the other day.”
Birdie’s soft, panting breaths are coming faster now as she stares at me without saying a word, immediately lifting her hips for me when I start tugging on her shorts, hooking my fingers into her blue lace thong as well, pulling everything down her thighs, and tossing them to the side.
“Goddamn, Birdie,” I groan when she’s naked from the waist down and spreads her legs for me, sitting back on that desk, her pink, bare pussy glistening and wet for me.
Like every fantasy I’ve ever jerked off to about her.
Without a word, she sits up from leaning back on her hands and grabs the hem of her T-shirt, slowly bringing it up and off her body until a blue lace bra the same color as her thong I tossed to the side is the only thing she’s wearing, hugging her tits and pushing them up until my mouth waters with need to put my mouth on them.
“Completely naked?” she teases quietly with a smirk, her hands behind her back as she pauses from unhooking her bra.
“Birdie,” I growl out a warning, my hands darting out to clutch onto her bare thighs, spreading her legs for me just a little bit more until I’m the one panting as I stare at the juncture of her thighs, needing to put my mouth on her and taste her like I need air to breathe.
Unclenching my tight hold on her thighs, I ease up and skim my palms softly up and down the tops of her legs, my eyes darting quickly back and forth between her legs and where Birdie is finally unclasping her bra and then tossing it to the side, and holy fucking hell…
“Christ… I need a minute,” I rasp, leaning back a little so I can take it all in.
Birdie leans back on her hands again, keeping her legs spread and letting me look my fill. Her full, perfect tits and pert nipples just begging for my tongue, down to her narrow waist and impressive abs, since I know she’s a stickler for working out just as much as I am, to her hot… wet… tight pussy, her legs now spreading wide enough for my broad shoulders, the sweetheart.
My mouth waters, my balls are so fucking heavy they hurt, and my dick throbs in my shorts as my hands slide around the underside of her thighs, and I push them between the desk and her ass, kneading it in my hands before looking up long enough to give a flushed and panting Birdie a wink as her hands slide her back a little more on the desk, while I curse myself for not jerking off at least fifteen times before I got here.
“Sorry, sweet cheeks. Desk screwing will have to wait a minute.”
Birdie has just enough time to raise one sculpted eyebrow at me questioningly before I’m squeezing harder onto her ass and yanking the lower half of her body up off the desk higher, dropping my head between her thighs, and finally finding out what heaven is like when I get my first taste of her.
CHAPTER 22
Birdie
“I think I’m caught in a trap.”
“Holy shit, oh, my god!” I scream, my palms losing their hold on the desk behind me as they quickly slip out from under me and my back thumps down onto the desk.
My shoulders and the back of my head dig into paperwork strewn on top of my desk as my back arches and my toes curl when Palmer’s warm, wet mouth wraps around my clit.
There’s nothing I can do but close my eyes and hold on tight with a firm grip on Palmer’s short hair as his head bobs between my spread thighs, while he clutches tightly to my ass and pulls my body against his mouth. I can barely take in air with each swirl and swipe of his tongue around my swollen and aching bud as he feasts on me like I’m the most delicious treat anyone has ever put in front of him. I let out a loud, choking moan when he wraps his lips around my clit and just sucks… and sucks and sucks, and laves his tongue all around while he’s sucking and sweet Jesus, did he take a class on this?
“Christ, Birdie, you taste like heaven,” Palmer mutters between my legs, his hot breath panting over my aching center when he pulls his mouth away from me.
He slowly slides one of his fingers through my wetness, swirling the pad of his fingertip around and around my clit a few times until I’m panting his name and writhing on top of the desk, gripping his hair so hard I might be pulling some of it out. “Do you have any idea how hot it is knowing I made you this wet?”
His voice is a whisper of awe, and I open my eyes long enough to look down my body to see him watching what he’s doing, his fingertip moving achingly slow around my clit before sliding back down, making me let out a loud gasp when he slowly slides that long, thick finger inside me.
“Please,” I beg him when he just holds his finger still, my clit throbbing, needing his mouth back on me. “Palmer….”
That’s all it takes; just a quiet, whispered moan of his name and he’s muttering another curse before his mouth is on me again, wrapping around my clit and sucking it past his lips while his finger slowly and torturously moves in out of me.
I’ve been on edge and close to orgasm all damn day just from the handful of little two-minute make-out sessions we managed to sneak in. Opening my office door tonight and finding Palmer standing there, knowing he was even more exhausted than me and probably wanted nothing more than to go to bed, yet he still went over to the mainland to get me donuts and then probably bribed Tess to clear out SIG just so we could finally be alone, I knew I was finished with work for the night. And when I saw the hunger in his eyes when he backed me into the office and slammed my door closed, I was close to detonating.
I can still see the way he looked at me when I was finally naked, sitting on this desk in front of him, getting wetter and wetter with each hungry lick of his lips while he stared at my body. That memory combined with the steady, shallow thrusting of Palmer’s finger inside me, and the way he rapidly flicks his tongue over my clit has me exploding before I’ve even gotten to enjoy Palmer’s incredible lips, tongue, and thick finger working me over for a full minute.
“Oh, God, I’m coming!”
My grip tightens in Palmer’s hair, and my hips thrust against his mouth as he sucks and licks and fucks me with his finger through my release. I’ve barely caught my breath when Palmer suddenly pulls out from between my thighs and his hands are on my hips, yanking me off the desk and whirling me around until I have to smack my hands on top of the desk when it’s in front of me before I face-plant on it.
I just came, and I’m already whimpering and panting and moaning for him again as he presses the front of his body against the back of mine, and I can feel him start rustling around behind me, jerking his shorts down, lining himself up with my soaking-wet entrance. His thick, muscular arm is around my hips, and he’s grabbing together both of my long braids at the nape of my neck, giving them a little tug so my head tilts back and to the side.
His lips wrap around the side of my neck, licking and kissing his way up to my ear, both of us moaning loudly when I jerk my hips back, forcing the head of his cock inside me.
There’s just something so much hotter that I’m fully naked and the fabric of Palmer’s clothing is rubbing against the back of my heated skin, just like that day in the shed, when he couldn’t get inside me fast enough and didn’t even bother taking his shorts all the way off.
“Is this okay?” he asks softly, making my heart go pitter-patter even though I’m so needy for
him I could scream, when he tugs a little harder on my braids he holds in one hand, and my pussy clenches around the tip of him, needing all of him right now.
“That’s twice now with no comfortable bed or rose petals,” I manage to rasp out, Palmer still holding himself perfectly still while he nuzzles his nose right under my ear, his chest pushing harder against my back and bending me over the desk while his tight arm around me shakes with the need to drive his cock inside me. “Are you sure your delicate sensibilities can handle this without the need to apolo—”
My teasing words are cut off with a loud gasp when Palmer thrusts his hips forward and plunges his cock inside me.
“Fucking hell, I will never get used to how perfect your pussy feels wrapped around me,” Palmer groans into my ear, pulling his hips back and then sliding back into me shallow then deep, swirling his hips a little and making me see those damn stars again. “You still deserve goddamn silk sheets and rose petals, but I just felt you come on my lips and tongue, and that just shot all my control to hell.”
I moan at his words and feel myself get impossibly wetter around his cock as he pumps in and out of me. Palmer’s tight hold around me loosens, and he slides his hand across my stomach until he grips my hip in his hand, letting me slide my palms forward more on the desk, my braids still held tightly in his fist as he starts thrusting into me faster and harder.
Even though I told myself the next time Palmer and I had sex I’d slow us down and let us both take the time to appreciate each other, it just seems like there’s something manic and desperate that happens between us that neither one of us can control, and I certainly don’t give a shit about stopping. Palmer holds tightly to my hair, keeping my neck wide-open for his mouth as he screws me against this desk, making every fantasy I’ve ever had about him come true and even better than what I imagined.
When his hand moves from my hip to reach between my legs, using his fingers to bring me to another screaming orgasm while he follows quickly behind, shouting my name as he pumps his release into me, I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that I’ll never be able to sit at this desk again without thinking about how Palmer so expertly makes all my dreams come true.
“I believe that makes three cookies now. You’re welcome,” he groans in my ear, making me laugh as both of us collapse forward on my desk, his chest pressed into my back where I can feel his steady heartbeat thundering against me.
His cock jerks and pulses inside me as he softly and sweetly kisses the back of my shoulder, making his way up to my ear.
“Coming back here was the best decision I ever made,” he whispers, making my heart beat even faster than it did through two screaming orgasms.
But are you going to remember that when you leave?
Not wanting to get melancholy while he’s still inside me, with my cheek still pressed to the desk and Palmer still draped over my back, trying to catch his breath, I blindly smack my hand forward until I reach the box of donuts, grabbing one, bringing it to my mouth, and taking a big bite out of it.
I feel Palmer’s rumble of laughter against my back, and he leans his head to the side so I can reach my hand back to him and let him take his own bite of after-sex donut.
“You’re an idiot. Just tell him you’ve been in love with him since the day you met him and you want to go with him. Or better yet, tell him to sit his ass home and stay here with you for once,” Tess says in annoyance, shaking her head at me while she leans against the doorframe of one of the storage closets at SIG.
“Like it’s really that easy,” I fire back, pulling a box of golf balls out of the larger brown cardboard box at my feet and roughly jamming them into their spot on the shelf where we keep everything we sell out in the pro shop. “He leaves tomorrow, and he’s never said one word about even wanting me there, Tess. Like, it’s never even crossed his mind to ask me. He’s going to go off and do his job like always, and playing house for the last week with me hasn’t changed that.”
Like he just wants to keep what we have here in the bubble of Summersweet island.
God, I can’t believe he already leaves tomorrow. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were out in that storm, screaming at each other. I’ve spent every day since that night he surprised me here at work and made my desk fantasy come true in the most epic way, pretending like he wasn’t really leaving, just so I could get up and function every day and do my job on top of all of the additional work I did to finally get The San Francisco Open to formally invite him back. I’ve spent every waking moment with Palmer, not letting him know how much it killed me each day that went by when he yammered on and on about leaving and never once asked if I might like to go and share that experience with him. Silly me for thinking that now that things have changed between us, something would change when he had to leave again, like Palmer wanting me to go with him. We’ve had dinner together every night, watched movies, walked on the beach, had sex on every available surface in and around both our cottages. Either he sleeps at my place or I sleep at his, drive to and from work together, and watch the sunset on one of our decks each night, curled up in each other’s arms like an old married couple. Everything is perfect except for one little thing.
He never asks me to go, and I never ask him to stay.
“It’s never crossed his mind, because men are stupid, simple creatures who need everything spelled out for them,” Tess states as I finish with this box, kick it to the side, and open up the next one. “Just sit him down and be like, ‘Dude, do you love me or not? Because if you do, fuck this bullshit about leaving me here and making me wait for your sorry ass to get home. Mama’s packing a bag and comin’ with!’”
I stop with my hand holding onto the shelf to look back over my shoulder at her.
“He doesn’t want me there. I’ll just do what I always do and wait.”
Turning back around, I swallow down the vomit as I continue stocking the shelves. This match is only two days. He goes in tomorrow, a day early to get settled and practice, a quick one-day tournament, and then he’ll be back. He’ll come back in two days, right? He said he would, but who knows what can happen in two days on the other side of the world from me. What if he wins? I’ve been watching him train every day, and he’s never looked better, never golfed cleaner, never been so focused. This win is his. All he has to do is show up and do what he was born to do. But what if his career blows right back up and he doesn’t come back? He just jets off to the next destination and to the next tournament, never asking me to join him, while I just sit here fucking waiting.
“I just don’t get why you haven’t admitted you’re in love with him. Now, and always. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Birdie, this is why the two of you spent fifteen years being miserable. Because you didn’t communicate and say how you felt.”
“Stop telling me something I already know and beat myself up about every damn day!” I argue, smacking another box of golf balls onto the shelf. “Every time he looks at me, and touches me, and kisses me, and makes sure I remember to eat, and makes me so fucking happy… I can’t breathe when I think about him leaving and maybe not coming back. Every damn minute I’m with him, I open my mouth to blurt it all out, and I always stop myself. Because I’ve been in love with him for fifteen years, and I know he cares about me and wants me and he talks loosely about a future with me, but is it fifteen-years’-worth of wanting and longing? Is it that deep and as mind-numbing as it is for me? Because I don’t know! Because like you said, he’s not saying anything either, and I’m back to where I was in the beginning all over again, where I don’t know where I stand with this man, and I fucking hate it. And I don’t understand why I’m so insecure when it comes to him! I’m better than this and I’m stronger than this. I’ve spent all these years making sure he fits in here on this island and in our world, but he never asks me to fit in with his. He never asks me to go with him, Tess, and I feel like a loser he’s ashamed to take out into the real world, because I’m just a nobody from Nowhere, Summersweet
Island!
Tess’s arms are around me, and I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel her squeeze me from behind.
“I’m sorry. I can’t suck it up right now.” I sniffle as the tears run down my cheeks, and she rests her chin on my shoulder and laughs softly, the smell of her bubblegum lotion making me feel safe and loved.
“Cry it out, babe. And I’m sorry for pushing you. You are not a loser nobody, and I will punch you in the goddamn neck if you ever say that again,” she warns me, making me laugh through my tears as she lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “I don’t know why he never asks you to go, sweetie. Maybe he just doesn’t think you want to, because this is your home, and you love it here, and talk all the time about how you never want to leave. And in the past, he never asked, because he had no fucking idea you were into him. And now? I don’t know. Maybe he just knows he’s only going to be gone for a few days and then he’s going to come right back home to you, because he’s just as in love with you as you are with him.”
My tears fall a little faster at Tess’s unusual show of sweetness.
“Maybe.” I shrug, not feeling that word at all.
“I get it. Believe me, I do. You’re scared to tell him how much he means to you, because you’re not sure if he’s there yet, and even though we claim to be strong, independent women, when it comes to the men we love, sometimes we’re not. We make dumb decisions, and we second-guess everything, and we forget just how badass we are, because love makes us stupid.” She sighs, squeezing her arms around me tighter. “You have fifteen years of insecurities thinking you weren’t enough for him to want and fall in love with to get out of your pretty little head, and that doesn’t happen overnight, no matter how good the dickin’ is.”
Just like always, Tess manages to make me laugh when I feel more miserable than I have in my entire life. I’ve gotten plenty of that “dickin’” over the last week, and good is far too inferior of a word to use for what Palmer can do with that thing. And with his mouth. And his fingers.