Being Thorough Pt. 03

I felt the emptiness much more sharply than the actual removal of the plug and his finger. So hollow.

"All done, Miss Wilkinson." He sounded cheerful, with an edge.

I turned my head and dipped my still sloppy chin until I could see him in the corner of one teary eye. He was licking his fingers like he'd just eaten something delicious and wanted to save the last of the taste, and he was locking eyes with me as he did it. His expression was intense.

"I will find you tomorrow to give you a copy of the report."He pulled off the black rubber glove he had been wearing on his right hand. The wet snap of it made my skin sizzle with electricity. "You can go."

"No," I said before I had finished sorting out the reasons for saying so.

His eyes bored into mine. "Careful," was all he said.

"Please." I bowed my back as far as it would go, flicked my skirt up onto my lower back again and let my hips sway from side to side.

His gaze flicked to my ass, to the ravaged, pulsing area in between, trickled down my thighs that had to be gleaming with wetness, caressed my straining calves, and took in the knots of white nylon that were wrapped around my ankles - exactly where he had put them, even though I could easily have freed myself with minimal effort.

"Please," I begged and kept begging even as he held my gaze and, as if a switch had been flicked, hurriedly undid his belt, tore open the button of his pants and ripped down the zipper.

"Please, please, please," I went on as I watched him pull out his glorious cock, fat, ruddy, veined and gleaming with pre-cum, and pumped it with his hand.

"Please, please, plea-"

He slid into me as quickly and painlessly as the glass plug, but apart from that, it was completely different. Worlds apart.

My mouth opened but stayed silent.

Words could not describe the feeling of his hard, pulsing flesh invading me, or the sensation of his hands clenching my hip and waist and pulling me into him, or the sweet frisson caused by his voice, usually so perfectly composed, spiraling out of control on a whole string of vicious, lovely curses.

There were no names yet for the places inside of me he reached.

I closed my eyes and bathed in him, in his presence, his weight on me, his forcefulness against me, his lust for me, and let his words and sounds wash over me.

I may have come again before he wildly barreled into me with a shout and spilled inside of me. I had no way to be sure. I was floating inside myself, like a reverse out-of-body- experience. I could feel his cum splash against my insides and his cock twitch like crazy inside my channel.

He collapsed and covered me with his body, heavily, beautifully pinning me underneath him, cocooning me, and we breathed together for a long while. His cock went soft inside of me until it slid out, followed by a last thick gush of wetness.

I could see his hand where it lay splayed on the table next to mine. I slid my fingers over and caressed his knuckles. His skin was soft and warm and I had the sudden image of licking and nibbling his fingers, just like he had nibbled my thigh.

I felt the shiver go through him at my touch.

"Tomorrow," I said. It was a question, a plea, a statement and the gentlest of threats, all wrapped in one word.

"Tomorrow, Isobel," he promised quietly.

FIN

Hello!

It is done. I am still a little perplexed by this fact, to be honest. This wasn't the story I thought would grow into a (let's grandiloquently call it a) trilogy at all, and it sneaked up on me at a time when I thought I probably wouldn't even write again. Huh.

Anyhoo. I had fun. I hope you did, too!

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you feel like making my day.

xo cydia

P.S.: Just to make sure: This is fiction, like fiction-y fiction, written by a person who literally hasn't ever done any of the shit she's writing about. Isobel Wilkinson is a wetbrain. Don't ever, ever go meet with someone in secret after two days. Ever. Not even after three days, or after thirty. Don't. Not sexy. Stupid. Also, use a condom, please. Be safe!