Brynn smiles slightly, which makes me feel much better.
"This isn't exactly the start that I envisioned our reunion would get off to," she says.
"Well, let's remedy that," I tell her.
A smile slowly spreads across her sad face.
"What exactly did you have in mind?" she asks.
The scene where I take her up against the wall flashes through my mind again but I think better of it. I only want to fuck her, not get her fired.
"We're going to need some privacy," I say.
She takes my hand and pulls me into her fancy office, shutting the door behind us so fast and so hard that the BRYNN ELLIOT plaque rattles against the wall.
It's nice to know that despite whatever is going on with what's- his- fucking-name, she still seems happy to see me.
Chapter 17 - Brynn
Larson picks me up and has me up against my office wall before I can even lock the door.
"I've been waiting so long to do this to you," he says, squeezing my ass as he kisses me.
He still smells like New Mexico: woodsy and outdoorsy, with a hint of cold New York air mixed in.
"I didn't lock the door..." I say, motioning towards it, but he pins my arms to the wall.
"Now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go."
He rips my blouse open and begins kissing my neck and chest.
My worries about Steven's appearance at my office melt away. It's been a whirlwind day, but Larson's kisses rid me of all anxiety.
He unsnaps my bra with one hand because the other is still holding my arms to the wall. It falls to the floor and he begins sucking on one of my nipples.
"Oh my god. Larson," I moan, my head falling back against the wall as well as against his hand that is grabbing my hair.
"Did you miss me?" he asks, as he moves over to suck the other nipple.
"Yes. So much yes."
Both of my nipples are now standing erect to his attention, and I can feel that it's the same for his cock.
He turns and lays me down on my desk, right on top of all the papers and sticky notes I had left there before going to the conference room. He peels off my skirt and my stockings.
"What about...?" I try to say, lifting my head to look towards the door.
"Shhhhh," he says. "I want to take you right here where everyone could possibly see us. That's part of the fun."
He’s a bit kinky. And I like it.
I needed some of this excitement today. And in my life in general.
He pulls my panties to the side and gets down on his hands and knees. As soon as his tongue makes contact with my pussy, I know that I'd let him do anything he wants, even take me in public.
And he's right, I think, as I lay my head back down on the desk and enjoy the way he's licking me. I don't think anyone would enter my office without at least knocking, but knowing that they technically could is half the fun.
Or make that about one fourth the fun, I think, as Larson continues going down on me. Because the way he eats my pussy is really fucking fun.
Larson has taught me to turn my brain off a little bit and my emotions and sexuality up high. I hold onto his thick hair as he gently bites at my clit.
"That feels so good."
He begins sucking on my clit and I feel a wave of pleasure washing over me, just as strong as the last time we were together, but which I haven't felt since then.
He fingers me, and that in combination with his mouth sucking gently yet firmly on my pussy makes me lose all control.
"I'm coming," I tell him, trying to keep my voice down.
"Oh my God." I'm moaning now. "I'm coming so hard."
With a final gasp I feel the amazing release of built- up tension and stress come pouring out of me. He licks up the juices flowing out of me and into his mouth while I shiver in delight.
"And now it's my turn," he says, picking me back up and then bending me over my own desk. "I'm going to fuck my lawyer girlfriend in her office and if anybody doesn't like that, they can come talk to me about it."
I like the way he says "girlfriend."
He slaps my ass, which I like even more.
"Look at this fine ass," he says, squeezing both of my cheeks in his hands. "It's so curvy and juicy and big."
I look back at him and can't help but love the way he's looking at me: as if I'm the only woman in the world.
Then he moves my thong over to the side.
"And speaking of juicy, look at this pussy. So wet with its dripping liquid just waiting for me."
He takes out a condom from his pocket and then takes off his own pants.
"I'm going to fuck you right here in your office, okay?"
"Okay," I tell him, my elbows on my desk and my ass sticking up in the air.
I’m his for the taking and I want him to take me now.
He enters me and it feels so good to have his cock inside me again. I can tell that he feels the same way because he groans deeply.
"You're so wet," he says, taking his cock almost all the way out of me and then sliding it back in. "You really did miss me."
"I really did," I tell him, as he thrusts himself in and out of me.
He holds onto my hips as he pumps. Then he takes my hair and pulls on it gently as he fucks me.
"I'm going to come again," I tell him, gasping and moaning.
"Go ahead and come on my cock," he says, and I do.
I collapse onto my desk while he continues to work his cock in and out of my pussy. I wish he was here to do this to me every day.
My job can be so demanding and I'd love to see Larson over his lunch break. He could fuck the stress out of me with his huge cock. But I'm glad he's here today, especially.
I didn't even know that Steven was going to be here or of course I wouldn't have planned Larson's visit at this exact time. But it all worked out because now I'm much more relaxed and happy.
I think that lesser men might have been upset about showing up to see me on a pre-planned visit and finding me meeting with my ex. But Larson hasn't even said a word. I like how he just took me and fucked me instead of asking a billion questions that would have made me feel worse instead of better. I also like how he always knows just what to say— or not— and even better what to do, to me and for me.
He's panting, and he slides his cock half way out of me. He squeezes my ass again.
"I thought I was going to blow there," he says, exercising an insane amount of control.
I like thinking that I almost brought him to the edge but that he's strong enough to withstand it.
"Well why didn't you?" I ask him.
"Because I want you to blow me."
"I guess I do owe you one..." I start to say, but he's pulling me up from the desk.
He forces me to the floor and I like how rough and in charge he's being with me. But he didn't have to do it this way because I'm already ready and willing to do whatever he wants.
As he takes off the condom I'm down on my knees looking up at him, begging him to put his cock in my mouth, his cum down my throat, and whatever else he wants, anywhere else he wants it.
Larson Campbell is my hero. Sure, he’s a real life American hero but he’s also my personal hero. His chiseled muscles, his hot tattoos, his huge cock are all mine. He rescued me from this shitty day and from my asshole ex. And for that he can do whatever the fuck he wants to me. And I know I'll enjoy it more than I ever thought possible.
Chapter 18 – Larson
I have Brynn right where I want her. Down on her knees, begging to eat my cock. I'm filled with a surge of power, which is good because I almost lost control while I was fucking that sweet pussy of hers.
I almost came before she could do what she's doing now. That would have been such a fucking shame.
She sucks the head of my cock while licking up and down its shaft. Then she licks the tip of it while moving her hand up and down the rest of it.
"Oh fuck yeah," I tell her, thoroughly loving everything sh
e's doing. “Eat my cock like my little fucking office whore.”
I tilt my hips so that my cock goes further into her mouth. She gobbles it up, so that I’m filling up her entire mouth. Then I put my hand on the back of her head and push it further towards me, so that my cock is all the way back in her mouth.
She chokes a little bit, but she takes it like a champ, just as I knew she would. I wouldn't have come all the way to New York Fucking City if Brynn didn’t give good head.
Sure, it's not the only thing I like about her, but it's a start. A fucking bare minimum requirement, and surprisingly hard to find, perhaps because my dick is ten inches long and plenty thick.
So Brynn definitely meets the minimum standard for one night stand or occasional booty call. But on top of that, it just so happens that she's also beautiful, smart, fun and funny. And ambitious too, I think, as I look up for a moment at all the fucking degrees hanging on the wall I was just fucking her up against.
I didn't mean to get so serious so soon, but Brynn really is a fucking catch. She's the first woman I've opened up my heart to since everything happened.
When I look down into her eager, sexy eyes, I'm almost overcome with a strange mixture of fear and lust. I have to look back up at her law degree to calm down.
That's right, I think, as she bobs her head back and forth on my hard cock, she's mine. She's an up and coming lawyer at this swanky ass firm and I just spread her legs open wide and ate her pussy on her desk. And then I fucked her from behind until her wet pussy dripped its juices all over my big cock while she came.
To top it all off, now she's on her hands and knees for me, eating my cock half naked so that anyone from this firm can just walk in and see her doing it. And they would know that she picked me. Out of all these rich cocky ass fuckers, she wanted her some Larson Campbell.
She does a trick where it feels as if she's somehow not only sucking my cock but licking it at the same time. It feels so good I start to throb in her mouth.
"You're making me come," I manage to tell her before shooting my load into her mouth.
She eats is eagerly, sucking every last drop out and swallowing it like the good girl that she is.
"Oh my god," I say, sitting down in her leather computer chair and pulling her on top of my lap. "That felt so fucking good. I've been waiting far too long for you to do that."
"I know what you mean," she says, leaning her head against my chest. "You've got to come to New York more often. I need this on a daily basis."
"Or maybe you should come to New Mexico," I tell her. "In fact, you should come for Thanksgiving."
"For Thanksgiving?" she asks, turning her head up to look at me in that cute, surprised way of hers. "Are we that serious already?"
"I'll be at Jensen and Riley's for their annual Thanksgiving feast," I tell her. "Which I've never even seen you at before."
She sighs.
"I know. Riley and I used to do that in law school. It's been so long. I'm always having to work..."
"Well, maybe you can take off work," I suggest. "Or, if you can't do that, there's the Santa Ride. I'd like to officially invite you to be my guest to it."
"The Santa Ride?" she asks, shaking her head to indicate she's never heard of it.
"Sure, the Santa Ride. Happens every year. The Desert Dog’s gift to the community and to children. And I bet you thought we were just a ragtag group of dirty outlaw bikers."
"What?" she asks.
"Oh come on, you can admit it. It's a common misconception. But we don't care. We just keep doing our thing."
"But what is it?" she asks. “The Santa Ride?”
"Every year we gather donations and gifts from the community for children in need," I tell her. "And then we go on a big group ride, stopping at each child's house and handing out the gifts. I guess you could call us the motorcycle santas."
"Really?" she asks, the formerly confused look on her face now changing to one of admiration. I'm glad she's proud of me. I knew she would like the idea. "That's so sweet."
"I know. So what do you say? Since you like the idea so much, why not participate?"
She looks at me as if admitting I've got a point.
"I'd love to," she says. "If I can take off work. It's really hard to do that around here though."
"So I've heard," I say. "But do they let you have dinner?"
The clock on the wall tells me it's after five o’clock.
"Or do they keep you slaving away without even letting you eat?"
"We can eat," she laughs. "In fact, I was going to suggest that, but then the whole thing with Steven happened, and then you had to pin me to the wall and do what you wanted with me."
"I sure did," I tell her. "That was the number one task on my agenda for the day. I don't care what else we do, now that that's done. Except I want to do it again."
I laugh, and so does she.
"But seriously, I'm sorry about Steven," she says. "That was completely unexpected."
"Yeah, what was up with him?" I ask.
I wasn't going to say anything, or at least not yet. But since she brought up the fucking weasel's name, I have some follow up questions of my own to ask.
"It's a long story," she says, sighing and biting her delicious looking bottom lip.
"Why don't you tell me at dinner?" I ask, as we both hop up to get our coats.
I know we're both hungry, and it makes sense to eat while I listen to her tell me what happened with Bozo-face. But I also need to get out of here before I start sucking on that lip of hers again, or we'll be here all night, doing nothing but fucking.
Not that that would be a bad thing, but since I'm in the Big Fucking Apple for the first time in my life, I might as well explore something besides the inside of Brynn's office. And her glorious body, of course.
Chapter 19 – Brynn
I take Larson to the Argonaut, a diner down the street from my office. Although— or perhaps because— it's not super fancy, I think he'll like it. But I can see right away that I was only kind of right.
"Ooooh, breakfast served 24 hours a day, very nice," he says, as we sit down at one of the Formica booths. "But what the hell? Where's the green chile?"
He turns the menu over several different times, as if in disbelief and hoping that New Mexico's state vegetable and beloved flavoring to any dish is hidden somewhere in the fine print.
"Larson," I laugh, although he looks at me as if not understanding why I'm laughing. "This is New York, not New Mexico. There's no green chile here."
"No green chile?" he repeats.
"You look even more horrified than you did when we saw those creepy clowns," I tell him.
He shudders, but I'm not sure whether it's because of the mention of the clowns or still because of the lack of green chile.
"What's been going on with them, anyway?" I ask him.
"They're still doing stupid stuff around town, but it's nothing as big as what happened on Halloween night," he says. "I'm hoping that that's all over with and these are just copycat kids."
"That's a relief."
"But seriously," he insists. "No green chile? Really. How can you live here?"
"You know what? I do miss the food," I tell him.
"Is that all you miss?"
"Well, you of course," I admit. "And Riley."
"And that's really all?" he asks.
I look at him and realize I've been missing more than I care to admit, especially since having gone back to visit.
"All right," I tell him, with a shrug. "I miss the weather of course. The beautiful mountains. The open sky. The scenic view. The rugged, independent atmosphere. The laid back lifestyle."
"Laid back, huh?" He raises his eyebrows at me from behind the menu. "Sounds dirty."
"Oh whatever," I laugh. "You know what I mean. The pace is just so different. Out here there's always more work to be done, always chaos and stress. Out West it's just so much more relaxed peaceful."
"Whattya havin'?" asks the w
aitress, who had rushed up to our table from seemingly out of nowhere. "I can bring it to ya in five minutes flat."
"See?" Now I raise my own eyebrows at Larson, in a joking manner. "What'd I tell you?"
"I'll have the sausage skillet," he tells the waitress. "Hold both the red and the green chile."
"What?"
She looks at him with a mixture of intrigue and annoyance that he's holding her up.
"Never mind."
We smile at each other.
"I'll also have some coffee," he tells her. "And whatever the lady's having, of course."
I order my favorite grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup and the waitress runs off to the hustle and bustle of the tables awaiting her service across the way.
"You weren't kidding," he tells me. "Everyone here's always in a rush over something."
"It's crazy," I agree. "But I guess I've gotten used to it because I didn't even notice it anymore, until I went back out there over Halloween. Sometimes I wonder what kind of affect it's going to have on Caleb."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"Oh you know, with everything being so dramatic instead of peaceful and serene. And a mom who has to work so much to afford to live out here, only because 'out here' is where the best jobs are. It's a vicious cycle, you know?"
He just looks at me.
"So how's the little guy doing?" he asks. "What does he do all day while you're working in that fancy office?"
I blush. I always feel a mix of guilt and pride when someone brings up how much I work as a single mother. I know I can afford all the best things in life for Caleb but I also know we don't get a lot of time to enjoy them together.
"He's doing well," I tell him.
But I don't add that he's missed Larson almost as much as I have. Every time he hears an engine roar outside— which, in our Brooklyn brownstone, is a lot— he looks up hopefully towards the front door and asks, 'Moto-cyc-le Man?'"
"He has a nanny," I tell him. "Esmeralda. She even teaches him Spanish."
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