Free Black by Aria Cole Page B

reaching up to grasp his length, at least nine inches in my estimation, and beg him to let me put it in my mouth again. I licked my lips before one large palm covered his length and he squeezed.
    He squeezed.
    My eyes nearly bulged from my head as arousal trailed down my thighs at seeing him hold his erection in his own hand. His eyes flickered with amusement when he saw the torture he was putting me through and he squeezed it again, adjusting it to stand straight up, the tip threatening to pop through the waistband at his navel.
    “Something got you distracted?” His gravelly voice sent shivers down my spine before he grabbed a chair and planted himself in front of the circulation desk, his hand still caressing his length from the outside of his pants.
    “Bend over.” He nodded. “Start cleaning.” His order sent shivers of desire through me before I obeyed. I sprayed and wiped the floor, feeling like his slave, relishing his eyes on my body. I dared not sneak a glance, fearful of his reprimand, yet craving his attention all the same. I twisted in another direction, the wood biting at my knees as I cleaned, thinking this would have been much easier with a mop, but then where would the fun be in that?
    He liked seeing me like this, and the truth was, I loved his hungry gaze on me, eating up my naked behind, seeing the sex glisten down my thighs. I wiggled my hips, chancing a glance his way.
    His heavy gaze was cast on me, his pants now undone and his erection tight in one fist, tugging slowly, enjoying his time watching me clean for him.
    “Don’t know how much longer I can take just watching you,” he grit, his eyes flashing to mine, then back to my round bottom. “So fucking sexy bent over, your pussy bared for me. You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Love seeing you so wet for my cock.” He pumped his fist up and down his length, pleasuring himself and sending shocks of arousal coursing through my body.
    I turned and crawled my way to him, desperate for contact, thinking the last twenty minutes had been long enough. I reached his heavy body, legs sprawled wide in the chair, his straining erection thick in his heavy hands.
    He was beautiful, like a Greek god sent here to drive me mad with lust. Turn the virgin into a whore; that was what Maxwell did. My hands trailed up the smooth fabric of his slacks before reaching his knees, relishing every hard, angled inch of him.
    His eyes watched me, riveted, one corner of his mouth twisted up in a sexy half smile. “Come sit on me,” he purred in a throaty voice that had my nerves buzzing with anticipation.
    I crawled up his body, feeling his roughened fingers make contact with my waist, thinking how he’d shamed me by making me clean his floor naked, and how I was repaying him by letting him have me. The real me. For the first time ever, without my mess of a life haunting me, I could be here, with him, living in the moment. No one had given me that gift before.
    His hands gripped my hips as he positioned me above him, hovering over his giant erection, before I slowly eased down onto it. His head fell back, exposing his throat to my hungry lips. I felt the stretch and pull of my muscles around his length. I trailed kisses up his throat and around the stubbled, cut-steel of his jaw. My fingers dug into his shoulders when his hips jerked, feeling him stab inside me with slow, decadent precision.
    “So beautiful,” he whispered before his hand was in my hair and arching my own neck back so he could repay with kisses across my collarbone, up the hollow of my neck, sucking on the delicate flesh beneath my ear lobe.
    I sighed, enjoying the feel of him inside me before his fingers tightened, holding my hips in place as he took control, thrusting harder, his pants more ragged and his eyes alive with passion. “I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m never letting you go.” I felt him swell further inside me, growing impossibly thicker before one of his rough thumbs