quickly gripped his cock again, just beneath the head, and pressed it against my skin to keep him from striping my face. I rubbed it over my tits, squeezing the last drops from his cock to paint my nipples.
When he’d given me everything he had, he drew away and went to his briefcase. He pulled out wet wipes and handed them down to me. I cleaned him lovingly, cooing still about how good he’d been, how lovely his dick was, and what a large wad he’d shot. Then I tucked his cock inside his pants and zipped him up.
A moment later he surprised me when he knelt in front of me and wiped my chest. If he seemed to take a little longer scrubbing my sprung nipples, well that was probably my own mind going into slow motion, savoring his touch.
He tossed the wipe into the trash can next to the door, then quickly closed my bra, stuffing my breasts into the cups with slides of his large palms, then buttoning my blouse.
“I think I’m ready,” he said, his voice deepening.
Hunger curled inside me, but I didn’t let him see the effect that husky tenor had on me. I gave him a quick smile. “Go get ’em, tiger. I’ll be right behind you.”
We bumped fists, and then he left me, still kneeling and trying to regain my composure. My breath was ragged. My clit throbbing. These little “pep talks” were beginning to take a toll on me.
The first time I’d offered, he’d given me a hard glare. “What the fuck are you thinking, Lyla?”
But I’d shrugged and launched into my argument. He was a man. Men thought about sex constantly. He needed no distractions when he was in the courtroom. I could offer this service as part of the preparation I provided. He’d be better prepared mentally and physically than his opponent.
I’d kept my tone even. My logic had been irrefutable—or so he’d said.
Now our nasty habit was beginning to consume my thoughts. I looked forward to these little sessions with the keen desire a drug addict had for his next fix.
But I knew how to temper it—just enough to be able to sit beside him and provide the kind of support he needed from me in the courtroom. There was still time while the jury shuffled in and the judge took his seat.
I pushed up from the floor and headed straight to the ladies restroom.
* * * *
I sat on top of the toilet lid, my skirt hiked up to my waist, my panties twisted around one ankle. I’d chosen the stall farthest down the line because I needed privacy. With fingers forked to spread my folds, I frigged my clit, trying to get off quickly.
But I couldn’t get the sight out of my mind of Tristan rubbing the wipe over my nipples. He’d never touched me intimately before. Always, I was the one who provided a service. And only before he entered court, because he needed the release to stay relaxed.
My fingers rasped my clit, the slick sounds bouncing off the tiled walls. I was alone. I knew because I’d checked every stall as I’d hurried down the line.
I needed something more. A release of my own that went beyond the physical. For the first time, I put to words my desires—all the nasty thoughts I’d kept hidden—from myself, but especially from him.
“Fuck,” I whispered, imagining him there with me. “See how hot I am? How hard my clit is? You did this. When you walk into court, every woman will smell the sex on you, know you’ve just had someone. They’ll be licking their lips and imagining they were me, my mouth stuffed with your cock.”
I raised my hand and licked my fingertips to moisten them, then swirled faster on my hard bud. “They’ll be lurking in the hall afterward, trying to get your attention, slipping their business cards into your pocket. And I’ll want to claw their faces, because I want you, Tris. Fuck, I want you so much.” I sank fingers into my pussy, twisting them in the moisture, thrusting them as deep as I could reach.
“You’ll give me a smile, but you won’t look at me after that. But I want you to fight for me like
When he’d given me everything he had, he drew away and went to his briefcase. He pulled out wet wipes and handed them down to me. I cleaned him lovingly, cooing still about how good he’d been, how lovely his dick was, and what a large wad he’d shot. Then I tucked his cock inside his pants and zipped him up.
A moment later he surprised me when he knelt in front of me and wiped my chest. If he seemed to take a little longer scrubbing my sprung nipples, well that was probably my own mind going into slow motion, savoring his touch.
He tossed the wipe into the trash can next to the door, then quickly closed my bra, stuffing my breasts into the cups with slides of his large palms, then buttoning my blouse.
“I think I’m ready,” he said, his voice deepening.
Hunger curled inside me, but I didn’t let him see the effect that husky tenor had on me. I gave him a quick smile. “Go get ’em, tiger. I’ll be right behind you.”
We bumped fists, and then he left me, still kneeling and trying to regain my composure. My breath was ragged. My clit throbbing. These little “pep talks” were beginning to take a toll on me.
The first time I’d offered, he’d given me a hard glare. “What the fuck are you thinking, Lyla?”
But I’d shrugged and launched into my argument. He was a man. Men thought about sex constantly. He needed no distractions when he was in the courtroom. I could offer this service as part of the preparation I provided. He’d be better prepared mentally and physically than his opponent.
I’d kept my tone even. My logic had been irrefutable—or so he’d said.
Now our nasty habit was beginning to consume my thoughts. I looked forward to these little sessions with the keen desire a drug addict had for his next fix.
But I knew how to temper it—just enough to be able to sit beside him and provide the kind of support he needed from me in the courtroom. There was still time while the jury shuffled in and the judge took his seat.
I pushed up from the floor and headed straight to the ladies restroom.
* * * *
I sat on top of the toilet lid, my skirt hiked up to my waist, my panties twisted around one ankle. I’d chosen the stall farthest down the line because I needed privacy. With fingers forked to spread my folds, I frigged my clit, trying to get off quickly.
But I couldn’t get the sight out of my mind of Tristan rubbing the wipe over my nipples. He’d never touched me intimately before. Always, I was the one who provided a service. And only before he entered court, because he needed the release to stay relaxed.
My fingers rasped my clit, the slick sounds bouncing off the tiled walls. I was alone. I knew because I’d checked every stall as I’d hurried down the line.
I needed something more. A release of my own that went beyond the physical. For the first time, I put to words my desires—all the nasty thoughts I’d kept hidden—from myself, but especially from him.
“Fuck,” I whispered, imagining him there with me. “See how hot I am? How hard my clit is? You did this. When you walk into court, every woman will smell the sex on you, know you’ve just had someone. They’ll be licking their lips and imagining they were me, my mouth stuffed with your cock.”
I raised my hand and licked my fingertips to moisten them, then swirled faster on my hard bud. “They’ll be lurking in the hall afterward, trying to get your attention, slipping their business cards into your pocket. And I’ll want to claw their faces, because I want you, Tris. Fuck, I want you so much.” I sank fingers into my pussy, twisting them in the moisture, thrusting them as deep as I could reach.
“You’ll give me a smile, but you won’t look at me after that. But I want you to fight for me like
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