More specific…okay, here goes.
“Well for one thing, I want to see more of you,” I say smiling as I gesture towards her chest. I look up at her to gauge her reaction. She’s completely non-flustered.
Brooke looks pleased as she glances down at her shirt and nods. “You know this shirt has snaps. Why don’t you just rip it open?”
“Really?”
She nods and gives me the look. “I want you to rip open my blouse…come on…do it, Nathan.”
I lean in toward her and press my fingers into where her shirt comes together. I curl my fingers over the fabric, imagine I’m Superman and pull with force. The shirt explodes open and I hear her take a sharp breath.
I swallow hard. “Wow,” I whisper. I look up at her and she has a sultry expression. It’s clear she’s excited. My gaze trails down to her breasts, so hypnotizing in the sheer shimmering bra. My fingers flex anxiously wanting to touch her, but I realize that I should ask for something else. I picture Brooke in my mind, running her hands over her curves, cupping her softness as she gazes at me.
“I want you to touch your breasts,” I say boldly.
Brooke makes a show of it as she glides her fingers over her creamy skin. I notice her nipples harden under her circling fingers. She lets out a low moan as she watches me intently.
“Like this?”
I nod. Just like that.
As she pinches her nipples she looks up at me and drags her tongue along her bottom lip. “And what would you like me to do now?”
I reach up and place my hands at the top of her arms, not sure the best way to ask. I pause, and look down before I finally find my courage.
“I want you on your knees,” I say in an unsteady voice.
As she sinks down, I press lightly on her shoulders. But really she’s the one controlling the momentum. Once she’s on the floor she looks up at me, waiting for me to continue.
“Touch me,” I whisper, struggling not to be embarrassed.
She gently runs hers hands up my thighs and then settles over where I’m hard and pressed tight against my jeans. When her fingers press down, I shudder.
“Brooke,” I moan.
“Can I open this up?” she asks, as her fingers linger over the fly. “I need more.”
“Uh huh,” I respond, my heart pounding.
She teases, working slowly until her hand pulls the fabric apart and she grasps my hard-on. I close my eyes as her hand moves over me. With my eyes shut, I’m acutely aware of the symphony of sensations: the warmth of her fingers, the softness of her breasts pressed against my knees, and the quickening pace of her breath as her hand tightens and finds its slow rhythm.
She suddenly stops and waits, still as can be.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me?” she challenges.
“Tell me?”
“Tell me what you want.” She looks determined, unyielding. “Or maybe you aren’t so sure what you want.”
Why’s she challenging me? But then I start to understand that she needs this from me. It’s important for her to see how strong I can be with her, without my costume on. “I know what I want,” I assure her. “I always know what I want.”
“Really?” she smirks playfully.
“I’ve always wanted you,” I point out.
“Anything else?”
I know my face is bright red, but I try to ignore the flustered feeling of being embarrassed to ask for things that keep me up at night in my ever expanding world of Brooke fantasies. I clear my throat and look her in the eye. “I want your mouth on me.”
She looks pleased, like a kid who got exactly what she asked for on Christmas morning. I see a flash of lust in her eyes before she takes me in her mouth. She circles her tongue over me until I have no sense of time or space, just Brooke. But then she pauses and continues with the damn talking. “See that wasn’t so hard?” she points out as she shakes her head defiantly.
She asked me to be assertive and dominant, so here we go. “More…” I insist as I reach out and cradle her head, running my fingers through her hair. I guide her towards me until I’m back in her mouth.
She hums with delight, before she pulls me in deeper.
I’m mesmerized, watching her. Her eyes are half-mast, heavy with pleasure, and she moans each time I rock my hips. I reach over and brush her hair away from her face, but my hands remain and I give in to the temptation of pulling her even closer.
I could’ve never imagined being like this with her, but at this rate I’m not going to last much longer. Something primal flares in me. I need to be buried inside of her, and I need it now. “Wait, I need you to stop,” I warn her as I ease her back. “Can you get up?” I ask, as I think of what we should do next. “Can we…?”
“Yes?” she asks, watching me carefully.
“I want you bent over the table,” I answer, more sure of myself.
She looks intrigued as she lifts up. I put my hands on her hips, and she playfully pushes them off. “You have to tell me what you’re going to do.” She insists.
“I think you know,” I put my hands back on her hips and turn her around. “I sure as hell won’t be pitching a show or conducting a storyboard meeting.”
“Glad to hear it,” she teases.
It just confirms my earlier thought; she needed to know I could take control. I rise and step right behind her, so that my erection presses heavy against her. I see her fingers spread flat against the wood grain of the oversized table as she waits for me, legs spread wide.
I lean over her so that my chest brushes her back, and speak low into her ear. “Is this what you fantasized about?”
She turns her face slightly towards me. “Yes,” she sighs. “This is exactly what I fantasized about.” I push her skirt up and see that she’s naked underneath.
I swallow hard. “Wow…where are your panties?”
“In my purse,” she whispers. “I wanted to be ready for you.”
“Thank you.” I moan as I run my hand over her soft skin.
I press her down towards the table with a firm hand. “Okay then. I’m going to take you now, Brooke.”
“Yes,” she whispers with a ragged breath.
She lies with her left cheek pressed against the table and her eyes closed as I push into her. I start really slow, focusing on every sensation but when she starts to touch herself I’m overcome . The harder I thrust, the louder she moans until I realize we’ve forgotten where we are. This is way hotter than I could have ever dreamed.
There’s a haunting eroticism about being in this public place in our most private moment. As I move against her, the images of our week fill my mind and fuel my fire. She’s Wonder Woman, my enchantress willing to sink to her knees to please me.
She belongs to neither the monkey nor the lumberjack. She belongs to me, and she’s so much more than I could’ve ever hoped for.
My thrusts build hard and fast, as I try to consume her. When she starts to climax, she sparks the Looney Tunes fuse on my ACME bomb. My heart’s thundering, my breath a gasp, as I arc back…and then…Kaboom! For a moment, the room fades to black and I see swirling stars in my eyes.
“Nathan?” she squeaks.
I open my eyes and gasp for air. I think I blacked out for a moment. She calls out again, more urgency in her voice.
“Nathan…you’re too heavy. I’m having trouble breathing!”
I quickly lift myself up. I must have collapsed on top of her. “I’m so sorry, Brooke. Are you alright?”
“I am now!” she sighs as she pushes up. “And I was more than alright a few moments ago.”
I slowly pull out of her and lower her skirt, suddenly feeling very decadent. I can’t believe we just did that in a public conference room. “Wow,” I say awestruck, as I pull her upright. “I sorta lost control.” I adjust my glasses that are askew.
She nods. “I’ll say. That was even hotter than my fantasy.”
“Really?” I ask, grinning.
“See…you showed me you can be bold and get what you want,” she assures me with a happy, dazed expression.
“It wasn’t too rough? You liked it…really?” I ask uncertainly, as I tuck myself away and pull my jeans closed. I feel the old Nathan in me returning and I’m a little nervous. That dominant stuff is hot, but it really isn’t me.