Guilty Pleasure. Jane O'Reilly

red, and he’s got the faintest of freckles, and something about his mouth makes me weak.

      I sink slowly to my knees. We still aren’t touching, but being in this position in front of him intensifies my excitement. He carefully unfastens his jacket, moving the sides apart to give me easy access to his belt. The buckle gives with a soft clink, and as I unfasten his trousers, my knuckles graze against the hard, warm wall of his lower belly. When I ease down the zip and realise that he isn’t wearing anything underneath, I nearly swallow my tongue.

      When I see his cock, I think I definitely do.

      Long and thick and so very, very hard, the slit at the end is already slippery and wet. I open my mouth, taste him. I wrap my fingers around the base, as far as they will go, and squeeze until I can feel his pulse against my fingers, and then I lower my head and open my mouth around his dick.

      ‘Hurry,’ he says, his voice low and rough. ‘Hurry. We might get caught.’

      Yes. Yes we might. With a slow twist of my hand, I work my mouth slowly down the length of his lovely cock, taking him as deep into my mouth as I can and holding him there. I slide back along his length, right to the tip, swirl my tongue around the swollen head and through that slit at the end.

      I should rush. I should work him hard and fast, get him off, but I don’t want to. I want to savour this, to take my time, because I don’t think I’ve ever had my mouth round a cock as stunning as this one. And because with every passing second, the chance that someone might walk in and see us increases, and the thought of it sends a rush of hot, wet heat flooding into my cunt.

      The other staff are just on the other side of the door. I can hear the sounds of their chatter, the clatter of keyboards and the thud of footsteps as people move around, doing what they’re supposed to be doing.

      I suck to the end of his cock again, find the sensitive spot just below the head and slowly work it, looking up at him as I do so. I don’t expect to find him watching, and the jolt of those water blue eyes goes right through me. His mouth is slightly open, and he licks his bottom lip, and fuck, he’s hard. He slides a hand into my hair, gentle at first, then he gets a good grip and I realise what he wants.

      He reaches out and presses his other hand against the door, holding it closed, and then he pulls my head forwards, pushing his cock deep into my mouth. A rock of his hips, and he pulls back. ‘Hurry,’ he says softly, eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed. ‘We don’t want to get caught, Tasha.’

      No, we don’t. But I think he likes the fact that we might.

      He fucks back into my mouth again. ‘Suck harder,’ he says. ‘You don’t want to get caught with my cock in your mouth, do you?’

      I try to shake my head, but my mouth is too full of cock to manage it properly. I’m right up on my knees now, both hands wrapped around the thick base of his erection as he sets the pace, sets the rhythm, makes sure I don’t slow, I don’t falter. And things are getting sloppy now, and it’s getting harder and harder to stay quiet, and I want so much to shove a hand inside my knickers and finger myself.

      He smells of soap and sex and the fur around the base of his cock is red, too, and I can’t even begin to describe how much it fascinates me. He’s pulled his shirt up a little, and I can see the faint blue veins that trace under the skin of his belly, the dip of his bellybutton, the lean play of muscle under the skin.

      ‘Fuck, I think I need to come,’ he says.

      And then someone knocks on the door.

      I nearly lose my rhythm, but he doesn’t let me. I grip him tighter, suck him harder, deeper, as he closes his eyes. ‘Just a minute,’ he calls. He almost manages to make his voice sound normal.

      Hurry, Tasha, hurry. He’s breathing fast now, and so am I. Fuck, what are we doing? We should stop, only I can’t stop, because he’s coming. He’s coming right in my mouth in thick, hot spurts, more and more, and fuck, it’s hot.

      But there isn’t time to think about it, to do anything more than swallow and wipe a hand across my mouth as I push to my feet and shove my hands back through my hair and watch as he hastily fastens his trousers and tucks his shirt back into them and smooths his tie.

      He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I as he opens the door and I walk out, still dazed. I bump my way past Cal Bailey, who grins at me in that cheeky way of his as he strolls into Ethan’s office.

      I stagger back to my desk, barely able to focus, drop into my chair and sit there, staring at my screensaver and wondering what the hell just happened.

      Ethan Hall happened, that’s what. All over my tongue.