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ivystoryweaver · 1 year ago

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On My Knees Part 3/3

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Note: This can be read on its own - you'll just have a touch more context with part 2 especially

Content: f!reader, nsfw, language, hand job, nipple play, allusions to masturbation, reference to oral - f.rec. unprotected p in v, not beta'd

Word Count: 1.9k

PREVIOUSLY on On My Knees...

"I guess I better get on my knees and beg you not to get me fired," you whisper, your nose crinkling with a smile.

He gasps as you climb off his lap, kneeling beside him. You reach between your bodies to tauntingly stroke him before your fingers find the buckle of his belt. "Can I?"

"Oh god, yes, please," he quickly nods, working with you to get his pants open.

Meeting his eyes one more time, you ask, "Are you sure? Once I start I don’t think I'll be able to stop."

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Maybe you should feel embarrassed that Steven made you come on your office floor without removing one shred of clothing from your body.

But as his cock springs free of his trousers, you lick your lips at the sight of him.

He catches you staring, wondering if this has all gone too far - beyond a wild makeout on your office floor where you came undone for him. Now his cock is right there and you're staring and frozen.

"Th-this alright, love?" His voice softens considerably as his hips shift in anticipation - yearning to be touched, to be fucked, even, but afraid it won't happen.

"Steven..." you gasp, your chest heaving with anticipation, with attraction, with raw want. "Is it too soon to...I want to..." You can't believe the utter mess he's made of you. Forget a brief, wild moment of passion - you want that throbbing, thick cock inside you now.

Reaching for your hand, he pulls you back to the present moment. "Want to what, darling? I'll give you anything you want just please... please touch me."

That lights a fire in you, sending you scrambling across your office carpet back onto his lap, your mouth crashing into his.

With one hand, you grab his jacket and with your other, you wrap your fingers around the pulsing length of him. He groans into the kiss, his hips responding to your fondling caress instantly.

He wants to fuck your hand - he needs friction. You're glowing and satisfied and he's losing his mind.

Maybe you'll let him stay like this, kissing you as you grip him - stroke him - and he can get some goddamn relief from more than his fist in the shower, imagining you just like this…

hungry for him, allowing his touch - his kiss. Too many nights, he's panted your name in his bed, wishing he could kiss his way between your legs and taste the core of you - praying that it could be him making you blossom for him. That he could be the reason your slick coats his lips and drips down your thighs while he eats you out.

You're stroking him tenderly now, but it's not enough. He needs more. After weeks of wishing he was the kind of man who could bend you over your desk, gripping your hips as he molds your desperate cunt to the shape of his cock, he has to have you.

If he could hear his name on your lips...

'Please, Steven, fuck me, fill me up..."

He’s wondered what your flat looks like, knowing you live alone. The thought of it somehow thrills him. Your sheets - drenched in the scent of you. He could only wish that you might plunge your fingers in and out of your sweet hole, furiously rubbing your greedy clit - or maybe stuffing your pussy full of a toy while wishing all along it was him -

'Steven, oh god, Stevennn...'

But you're kissing him and stroking him tantalizingly and he's growing desperate.

Your touch is featherlight. Not tentative - it's sensual. Your fingertips dip down to trace taunting circles over his balls while your tongue torments his own.

"Gods, please," he finally utters, tearing his mouth from yours, his hips messily stuttering as he desperately attempts to create more friction within the smooth palm of your hand.

Those words sound so sweet coming from his mouth and your core clenches, dampening your panties even more if that’s possible after your earlier pleasure.

Rubbing your nose against his almost affectionately, your mouth curls, satisfied that he's panting and chasing more from you.

"What do you need, baby?" You whisper. "This not enough?" You know it's not enough. The alluring tangle of your tongue with his has him chasing after anything you'll give him.

Slowly, cruelly, you withdraw your touch from his cock, pulling an actual whine from his plush, wet lips.

This apparent power switch feels incredible.

“Maybe we should stop. We are working, after all…” Now you’re just being cruel.

A desperate moan rumbles from his chest as he struggles to think coherently. He thought you wanted to go further - maybe at least to touch him - let him come. Gods, he needs to come. How can he dry hump you to orgasm - hear those sweet sounds and see the desire behind your eyes and then stop cold …

Well - you’re the boss.

You’ve climbed off the floor and crossed behind him to the other side of the office. Shaking his head, he struggles to his feet, figuring he misstepped somewhere - was too needy.

“Steven.”

You absolutely purr his name, drawing his racing mind back to the moment. He eases around, stuffing his cock back into his trousers when he sees you standing there in your bra and panties, having shed your blouse and pants when you crossed behind him.

“Had to lock the door,” you smirk, slinking toward him. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t tell my boss?”

Steven gulps, his eyes hungrily raking down the shape of your body. “F-fuck you’re beautiful. Want you so bad.”

You almost make another joke about him getting on his knees and begging, but no more jokes. You want him. Urgently. And he’s right here -flushed cheeks, kiss swollen lips, eyes wild and hungry - gaze boring into yours. You rush at each other like a film. Like something surreal.

He gathers you possessively closely, and steals your breath with the fire of his kiss.

His pants are still undone so you shove them down, with a lowly growled order for him to take them off while you push his jacket from his shoulders.

His long fingers - the ones you’ve stared at, wishing he would push them inside you - press into the curve of your back. Fingertips find the hooks of your bra and you whimper as he pulls the straps free of your shoulders. He pauses long enough to finish riddling himself of his shirt you’ve unbuttoned, kicking his pants off his ankles after his shoes.

Your loosened bra slips down your arms allowing your breasts to spring free.

This is happening. You’re fucking Steven Grant in your office. And it’s not just shoving skirts up and pushing panties aside. You’re completely bare to one another with the unforgiving fluorescent lights illuminating every flaw perfection.

He shakily exhales, wetting his lips before the two of you collide, stumbling your way to the sofa nearby.

He eases down and pulls you by your arms into his awaiting lap - your soaked panties providing the only flimsy barrier between you.

His hands are everywhere as your forehead drops to touch his. His warm breath tickles your face before he kisses you again, so deep, you forget to breathe for a long time, feeling heady and desired and even romanced, despite the clearly naughty series of events unfolding here.

His palm spreads over your back again, while his other hand slides up the softness of your tummy to cup underneath your breast. He caresses you like a lover rather than squeezing you like the other stupid teenager-brained assholes you’ve dated.

His thumb brushes over the stiffness of your nipple - his lips curling in satisfaction as you mewl and arch into his touch.

“You like that,” he whispers. And you hum as he brings both hands to your breasts, working you gently, teasing your nipples. Your head falls back, inviting him in for a taste. His hands slip back around to trace the shape of your back once more.

“Can I suck you?”

Your cunt clenches at such an unusual question - you’ve never really had anyone ask you for permission to suck your tits.

“Yes,” you whisper, even as he’s dragging his tongue teasingly over your stiff peak. He goes on like this for a minute and you realize he’s taking back the power because suddenly, you find yourself grinding down on his bulge like an animal in heat, chanting "please, Steven…" as he sucks you like he’s drinking from you.

“Knew you would sound so pretty if I ever got my hands on you,” he rumbles against your neck, sucking a mark there, pulling a whine from you at the loss of his mouth on your tits.

“I hate you,” you almost giggle as he kisses his way back to your mouth, smirking as he does.

“I’m sure you do,” he teases, “seeing how you’ve soaked right through those panties.”

“Take them off then,” you challenge, gripping his broader-than-they-looked shoulders, standing just long enough for him to yank them down.

His mouth goes dry as he finally sees you completely bare to him - tits gorgeously wet from kissing and sucking - the lightest sheen of sweat on your chest and stomach.

He’s shifting uncomfortably, palms running down his thighs, cock at full attention, weeping mercilessly, purple and fit to burst.

Locking eyes with him, you place one knee on either side of his lap, your hands still gripping his shoulders. Rocking your hips forward, you drag your folds over the tip of his cock - back and forth, letting him feel you. You’ve already come once and you’re desperate to fuck him. Your slick is dripping down his length almost embarrassingly, but you don’t lower yourself, despite how badly you want to be stuffed full of him.

“Please,” he whispers, hands grasping at the curve of your hips. “Can I have you? Fuck, please, please…”

“Yeah, baby,” you breathe, easing down tantalizingly slowly on his length. “Want this cock so bad, Steven.”

Your cunt squelches and he moans desperately at the sound of it, and of your filthy words.

“Fuck, you’re thick,” you hiss, shifting your hips to get him all inside you, shivering as his whisper tickles your ear.

"Darling...you're perfect." He grips your hips and drags you back and forth, thrusting up into you.

"So good, Steven," you pant, your head falling back in rapture as he fills you so fucking full. His hand claw their way up your back, pressing your breasts against his chest before his fingertips dig into your shoulders.

Hot breath falls on your neck, pulling a moan from your throat - the sounds around you growing louder. Skin obscenely slaps against skin as your cunt squelches, greedily milking his cock.

"Mm so close, love," he almost whimpers. Fuck, he sounds pretty like this. "Want you to come for me again."

You're so wildly turned on that it's no tall order. His hand grips the back of your neck, his forehead touching yours. The intimacy of sharing his breath contrasts the hungry slap of skin as you bounce on his cock.

His other hand slips between your folds, rolling your swollen clit between his thumb and finger. White hot pleasure sparks from your molten core, arching your back in ecstasy, euphoria rolling in waves all the way to your fingers and toes.

"That's it, love. Ohhh fuck," he groans as your cunt clenches his cock, your slick, wet channel sending him careening off a cliff of pleasure with a few final thrusts before he releases himself inside you.

You hold onto one another for dear life, sweating, sated and breathless. You start to come back to yourself as Steven whispers how beautiful and perfect you are, littering your cheek and throat with soft kisses.

"Was this your plan when you brought me that piece of birthday cake?" You finally tease, still catching your breath.

"Not exactly," he chuckles, holding you close. "But since you liked it so much, I'll bring you another dessert tomorrow."

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