Dirty Shots by Marissa Farrar Page A

his digits, hot and wet. In a sudden rush of necessity, she lifted herself slightly and shoved away everything on the desk below her—pens, paper, a stapler, and calculator, the items clattering to the floor—so she could bend over farther, her breasts pressing against the desktop, her bottom protruding even more.
    He used his free hand to snap open his belt and yank down his zipper, freeing his cock. Closing his hand around his erection, he inhaled deeply as he squeezed himself and began to move his hand up and down the hard length. Anya was like sex personified, bent over his desk with the plug in her ass, creaming over his fingers. He was lucky he hadn’t come over her already.
    “Eric, wait.” She turned her face to him, two bright spots of color high in her cheeks. He didn’t want to wait, but then she said, “I want to taste you.”
    He slipped his fingers from her, allowing her to turn around. Her blue eyes burned into his, her lips pink and full, and she dropped to her knees in front of him, the desk at her back. She clasped his erection in her hand to steady it. Her lips opened, her tongue sneaking out to lap at the head, licking the drop of pre-cum, making him stiffen and moan.
    Keeping her gaze locked on his, her lips opened and she enveloped the head of his cock into her wet, heated mouth. The inside of her mouth felt smooth as silk, the back of her throat like heaven.
    “Oh, God. That feels so good.”
    His hand found her head, his fingers lacing in her soft locks. His balls throbbed, heavy and tight. Her pretty lips created suction around his dick, her tongue licking and dancing along his length as she bobbed back and forth. But he didn’t want to come in her mouth, as much as he loved the idea of her swallowing his seed. No, she’d come here wanting something, and he intended to give it to her.
    “Anya, you need to stop now. You’re going to make me come.”
    She let his cock slide from her lips, giving one final lick to the tip which made him shiver with desire. She pushed her hair from her face and got to her feet. Stepping into him, her arms slipped around his neck, and she kissed him long and hard, their lips meshing. He tasted the salt of his pre-cum on her tongue. His cock was squeezed between their bodies, and Eric realized Anya was still wearing all of her clothes. That needed to change.
    Taking hold of both sides of her shirt, he yanked, causing buttons to pop and scatter over the floor. He’d ruined the shirt, but he’d buy her another one. He fell to the soft, pale skin of her throat, his mouth and tongue working their way across her skin with tiny bites and nibbles. She tasted fresh and fragrant, the slight citrus tang of her perfume against his palate. He moved down to her breasts, sucking one hardened nipple through the lace of her bra, scraping the nub with his teeth, and then repeating the motion to the next. Her chest heaved with her breathing, her fingers running through his hair.
    “Now,” she said above him, her voice breathless. “I want you now.”
    Wasting no more time, he lifted his head and stood straight, before he turned her around to face the desk. He placed his palm against her lower back, bending her over again. He lifted up her skirt, balancing it on her lower back so he exposed her round, creamy bottom. Hooking his fingers in the tiny slip of her panties, he slid them down her thighs and around her feet before letting her step out of them. He stood up again, the length of his erection bumping against the soft skin of her ass.
    His fingers found the smooth head of the butt plug. He took hold of it and carefully pulled the toy from her body, placing it on the desk beside her.
    “Lube,” she said, suddenly. “We need lube.”
    “Shit.”
    He’d thrown the tube in his desk drawer after their last session. Quickly, he kicked off his pants and shoes, and then, feeling ridiculous in just his shirt, stripped it off, too. Naked, his erection bobbing out in front of