One Night Ch. 07

"What do you want Sarah," said Mr. James.

The sex-shop toys on the table entered her mind, but toys didn't appeal to her right now. She wanted...

A bad boy. A bad situation.

Mr. James seemed to know. That seemed to have been the case all along though. That was one reason she was here with him now. Sarah was ignoring those nice-girl lessons she had learned all her life and changing, chancing everything for this moment, for this man.

With the confidence of a predator that frequently lures prey into its trap, Mr. James reeled her in, maneuvered her in front of the window, her back to his chest.

Sarah could see a woman who was arguing with her husband. They seemed so close she could read their lips and hear their voices through the gaping window. They were debating about whether they should stay up all night listening to jazz or just get some shut-eye for their city tour tomorrow.

"Can they see us?" Sarah asked on a breath, already suspecting the answer.

Mr. James splayed his hands over her ribs, ran them downward, resting them over her bared belly, rubbing circles into her skin with the pads of his fingers.

"There's enough light so that they can see what we're doing, yes. Will that stop you?"

Dragonflies winged though her stomach, moving lower, flapping electric wings against her clit, making her restless. "No."

"Very good."

He kissed the side of her neck, nipping at the throbbing vein, causing her to lean into the contact. At the same time, she kept an eye on the people across the street, hoping they would go about their business and ignore this wicked behavior.

Hoping they would look.

His fingers moved downward, skimming into her panties, sliding between the swollen folds of her sex. Mr. James surrounded her tender nub, worked it until she rested her weight back against him.

Sarah watched the couple, they had broken apart. The man was still near the window, debating with his unseen wife.

Mr. James' breath was coming faster in her ear. "I'll slip right into you. How long can you wait for it little Sarah?"

Her boss was cocky. So sure of himself, so sure that she wouldn't be able to wait. This was something he had planned, had wanted from the moment he chose her and now she knew that. She realized she belonged, belonged to him.

"Forever," she answered him.

With that, he laughed, then urged a finger up inside of her, swirling it around. "Then I'll make sure it takes that long."

She was barely holding it together, her body in flux, like a pan of paint being sloshed back and forth, mingling in color and texture.

"Just try," she managed, wanting to give as good as she was getting. "Try to outlast me."

"I will."

He inserted a second finger into her, thrusting upward so that his thumb pressed against her clit. Groaning, Sarah fell against the window, head cradled against an arm, breast crushed against the glass. Her hardened nipples glided up and down against the slippery cool of it, moving with his every demand.

Then, unable to help herself, she parted her braced arms, looking between them, keeping their maybe audience in sight. Her heart beat double time at the thought of getting caught.

"I wondered if you'd be an easy touch," he said, whisper ragged. "You'll cream in another minute little Sarah."

Now this was more then sex. It was her showing him that she would get her man. That she would exceed expectation and never fail herself again.

Sarah reached in back of her, sketching over his rock-hard crotch. "I give you thirty seconds."

That did it. He abandoned her nether regions and used both hands to grasp the straps of her peignoir. With a rough tug, he tore it off her, the material screeching.

The air tickled her exposed skin.

Wasting no time, he yanked off her panties, too, but she was already whipping around, grabbing his shirt and ripping. Buttons flew, hitting the wall, the floor.

In response, he buried a hand in her hair, and she thought, This is it. The kiss.

But he didn't make a move.

Slowly, Sarah raised herself up, sweeping the tips of her breast over his smooth muscled chest.

A kiss. Just a kiss.

For a moment, his gaze softened and his lips parted as he bent to meet her.

A jagged whisper separated them.

But then he jerked, just slightly. Froze.

A beat passed, like the ticking of a bomb -- infinite and nerve shattering.

Then something in the pale of his eyes expanded. Released.

He spun her around again, bringing her back to the window -- as if he couldn't stand to look at her. To touch her lips. To let her in.

"Let's get their attention," Mr. James said, referring to those outside the window. Ignoring what had almost happened between them. "Let's give a show."

She hugged the wooden frame again, Mr. James pulled off the rest of his shirt. Then he did away with all his clothing. Naked, he pressed himself to her, skin covering sweat-dabbed skin. Of its own volition, his cock nudged between her thighs, seeking the wetness, the plumped readiness.

As Sarah whimpered, spreading her legs and wiggling her hips backward to allow the tip of him to slide against her, guilt stretched his pores. The feeling was as heavy as the humidity, shrouding him.

He couldn't kiss her. He never kissed women, never saw the point in it. The act was only a means to an end-the end being this, what they already had now.

Explosive sex. Orgasm.

Kissing didn't get you the thrill of either of them, so why do it?

Mr. James wouldn't admit to avoiding something deeper.

Innocence. The regaining of it with a tender touch.

Damn her for reminding him.

He spoke with harshness. "What would your friends think if they were watching? What would all those people who thought you were a responsible girl say to you?"

"Just touch me, please."

Teasing her with the tip of his cock, he laughed, his fingers reaching beneath her firm smoothness of her ass to open her folds wider. "What will these people across the street say to their own friends about the couple they saw fucking like animals?"

"I'm sure it'll get a good laugh. I don't care... Just... Please..."

So, she couldn't stand the wait. Hell, he couldn't either. The center of him was hammering, taking over. His cock was ready, the tip leaking with precum, just waiting to feel the warmth of her.

Beaten, he raised his arms and folded them over her own, plastering his damp skin against hers. In a moment of utter weakness, he allowed himself to nest his face into her lemon-breeze hair, to breathe her in and keep her for only a few seconds.

Then, on a hitched curse, he slid into her with one deep drive, careful to avoid breaking the glass. Sarah pressed forward, face so close to the window that her breath steamed the panes, clouding them like a disappearing heartbeat that only reappeared, time and again, to fade away.

"There..." she sighed.

She was so tight, so damned tight and nice, surrounding him like one of the velvet cuffs on the nearby table. Capturing him. Never letting go.

In, out, in...

Without thinking, he felt his fingers entwine with hers as they both palmed the window frame.

Through the have of his sight, he saw the man make a gesture at his wife, then turn toward the window. He stopped in his steps, mouth agape as he squinted and crept closer to his picture-box view.

Sarah gasped, and by instinct, Mr. James moved her sideways toward the cover of the armoire, so they were out of the man's sight.

"But..." she said.

"No, you belong to me." And he meant it...for the moment at least.

A long, satisfied "mmm" escaped her as she collapsed against the armoire, hugging the old, polished wood. It was the sound of a woman who wanted something more than what was happening now.

His blood quickened, and he nuzzled a hand over her sex, giving him leverage and allowing her to bend forward slightly to accommodate his slick pounding. The gentle ramming that was coming faster...faster.

At the same time, his fingers played her, made her cry out, asking for more.

This was all he was going to give, he thought, riding her, thrusting and swaying with the music of a jazz song gone awry.

Wet skin, sliding and skimming. A saxophone dripping notes in slow time.

Warm fluids, coating thighs and sensitive flesh. A bass raining the blues.

His hips, grinding, bringing them both to a crescendo. Drums, pounding out a crazed beat with no sense or rhythm.

Louder, faster, different scales losing their structure and falling like beads from a balcony.

Harder, and harder still, circles of color shattering on the streets and bursting upward, burning whoever was standing in their way.

He exploded inside her. She rocked forward clutching the armoire for balance. His body let loose, his cum spray deep into her and Sarah's own body clamped around him, even tighter. She held on as her own glorious climax flooded her body. Time stopped, stood still as she felt Mr. James lay against her, still holding her tight, seeming to want to leave her.

"Little Sarah," he whispered. Nothing else nothing more...