Chapter 59: Chapter 59

He always yells ticktock when he comes home on lunch break. Christopher will burst through the door, yanking his tie loose and calling out to me as he bolts past. I work from home; I’m always here up to my

eyebrows in paperwork on any given day.

I see the blur of gray suit as he rushes past and his footfalls echo on our steps. He’s heading toward the bedroom. Once in a great while, when the traffic is heavy and delays hold him up, he comes home yelling his magic words and then just attacks me in the living room.

Not today.

I shove my pile of papers away and stand, smoothing my yoga pants like I’m wearing a skirt. My eyes shoot to the small dining room mirror and I see my hair, in two blonde braids, has actually fared pretty well today.

No makeup but for lipstick, but hey, it’s just the way he likes me. Undone.

“Ticktock, Georgie,” he yells again, and I scurry.

I hit the stairs at a good clip, heart pounding. My head is a little swimmy and my stomach abuzz. I always worry, will I get him off? Will I get off? Do we have time? But these questions and worries are all part of the excitement of lunchtime at home.

On the landing, I hear him a split second before he grabs me and hauls me into the bedroom. He’s taken off the tie and the jacket. His pants are simply undone and his cock stands out poker straight, begging to be touched or stroked or, yes, I realize as he kisses me once before putting pressure on my shoulders so I kneel…sucked. His cock needs to be sucked.

He slides the smooth tip of his cock along my lower lip and then drags it across my upper. A slip-slide of moisture flows out of me and I shiver. “Go on, Georgie. Give it just a taste,” he says.

I do. I lick with only the tip of my tongue so that he grabs my braids like reins and tugs just enough. He’s being a gentleman. Knowing he’s restraining himself is enough fodder to prompt more moisture between my thighs.

He knows I love this. He knows it gets me off. It is, in fact, the fastest way to get me wet.

“Pop that first button for Daddy,” he chuckles. It’s our joke, he knows the whole daddy thing does nothing for me.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, smiling around his cock as he slips into my mouth deeper and I feel that slight tremor of my gag reflex. A single tear escapes my eye from my efforts and Christopher thumbs it away.

“Just a few seconds more,” he says, eyes growing dark after glancing at the bedside alarm clock. He takes my braids more firmly, using them for real this time. Pulling my mouth onto his cock at the speed and tempo he desires. When I gag again, he pulls free of me and gives me his hand so I can stand.

I’m only standing for so long, because Christopher is a big guy and in three big stagger-steps he’s walked me back to the bed. With tented fingers, he pushes me back onto the mattress, as easy as if he’s felling a tree made of feathers.

“Hips up.” His voice has gone down to an urgent whisper and that is more serious than his big, booming, hurry-up-woman voice. This voice makes my nipples spike as if they’re made of iron instead of warm, pink flesh.

I shoot my hips up and he peels off my pants. I’m bare underneath. I had nowhere to be today. Just home slogging through tax forms. And here I am now, bare assed and splayed on our big navy-blue bedspread. “Spread ’em.”

He tosses me a wink and takes a moment to torture me as he folds—yes, folds—my yoga pants and sets them on the settee by the door.

I spread my legs as he turns, his big blue eyes eating up the sight of me. My belly bare because my top’s shoved

up some, my hip bones jutting up just a bit, the bare swell of my mound and I can only assume the flushed sweetness of my pussy. I let my thighs fall open just a bit more to make him come to me.

It works.

Christopher’s making that ticktock noise of his that somehow works to amp up my arousal. We can fuck any time we want. A couple with no kids, the sky’s the limit. But god, the lunch-hour fucks are the best. Hours plump with excitement and need. We only have so much time to satisfy each other, and that is what makes it all the better.

He’s coming at me and I arch up, but he ticks and tocks at me, pressing my hips flat with his big hands. He slides his warm bulk along me but doesn’t try to enter me. His erection presses, urgent and bold, between my legs but only manages to ride the swollen knot of my clitoris. That is enough to make me dance and twist under him, but Christopher pins me flat.

“Stop being so fidgety, Georgie,” he laughs, burying his face in the crux of my neck. He drops gentle, heated kisses along the length of my neck and the flare of my shoulder like we have all the fucking time in the world. I fear I might go insane.

“Hurry,” I sigh, moving up to try and force more contact between his cock and my clit. He’s onto me, and he pulls back just enough.

“No hurry.” He kisses my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids, my lips. When he sticks the tip of his moist

tongue in my mouth, I try to fight dirty and suck it like it’s his dick. Again, he chuckles and sucks my tongue in return. My plan has failed because he seems calm, cool and collected and I have turned into a raving lunatic. The pressure of him sucking my tongue shooting straight from mouth to breast to cunt.

“Oh, my dear god, Christopher, stick it in me!” I demand, and when he grins I have the sudden, sparkling urge to hit him.

He rocks his hips from side to side and I feel the brush and nudge of that hard shaft over the places I need it most. Over, not in. What is wrong with him?

My eyes go to the clock and I see our time is ticking away, running fast like salt water through a plastic sieve at the shore. “Hurry!” I hiss.

“No hurry,” he says again.

His mouth drags sensually down between my breasts. When he hits my rib cage my skin gallops and shim- mies because it almost—but not quite—tickles. I stop complaining when he hits my navel because I know where he’s going. When he reaches my pussy, I almost give it up immediately. I’ve become such a slut for him and his rushed lunchtime fornication at this point. My nether lips are so flushed and sensitive that when he nips them gently, I surge up like he’s burning me. He settles his mouth on me, sealing his lips over my mound. The top row of his teeth press to that tender flesh and add just enough pain to amp up my pleasure. He gets in three swirls of his tongue and I come. Christopher

laughs. “Boy, you’re a cheap date.”

Again I have the urge to swat him, but then he’s sliding that cock along my drenched hole only to slip inside of me, just enough for me to feel the pressure but not enough to fill me.

“Please, please, please!” I gasp, finally swatting him on the arm to try and prompt him.

“Very well.” With a soft kiss, he drives into me. His cock stretching and filling me. I wrap my legs around him and open myself fully to his penetration. Each thrust bangs his pelvic bone to my clit and a jolt of plea- sure fills me.

He’s teasing me again, but he doesn’t last long either. Christopher’s thrusts get frantic fast and when he kisses me deeply and pulls my braids hard, making my scalp sing, he comes. It’s easy to get off again after hearing his cries. Nothing does me in faster than a man coming undone.

I glance at the clock. “You’d better g—”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, smiling. “Oh, didn’t I mention that I have the rest of the day off?”

“I…what? What was with all the ticktock then?”

He kisses my nose. “Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. Do you have any idea how wet that noise makes you? It turns you into a sex maniac.”

This time I do hit him. But not very hard at all. After all, I have the rest of the day with him. I want him in perfect working order.