His hot mouth was on my neck, sucking too hard. I pulled back. "No marks."
"Okay, no marks." His eyes had a lusty glaze.
I was no doubt fulfilling some deep schoolboy fantasy of his. The head bitch in charge now love slave to the associate, or some similar work of ham-handed fiction. I smirked as he continued down my chest. He fumbled at the buttons on my blouse. I dug my nails into his sides, more out of irritation than anything else. When he finally got my shirt open, he stared at my breasts. What, had he never seen a pair of tits before?
I slid my bra straps down and let the girls free, giving him a better look. His hands were on them immediately. He kneaded one and sucked the nipple on the other. I finally felt some wetness between my thighs. The way he went for my tits while ignoring my pussy told me he was inexperienced, young. But if it made me wet, I didn't give a shit.
I unzipped his slacks and pulled out his cock. The tip was already wet. No, this wouldn't last long. But it was a decent size. I angled my hips and positioned him at my opening.
"Wait. Are you clean?"
"What do you mean?" he asked in between sucks.
I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back up to mine. He winced at the pain. Jesus, this guy. I shook my head.
"I mean, if I get so much as a fucking sniffle in the next week, I am going to make your life a living hell. Understand?"
"Oh, oh, you mean STDs? No, I'm clean. Promise."
I released him, and he returned to my neck, now kissing gently. His cock was still at full staff. I pulled him toward me, guiding him to my center. His head entered, but he stayed there, at the edge, holding back.
He was tentative. Nothing is a bigger turnoff than tentative. Nothing.
When I growled my frustration, he took the hint and sank his cock deep into me.
I wrapped my legs around his back, digging into him with the heels. He grimaced. Pussy. I dug in harder, spurring him to go faster. He stopped being so hesitant and got down to fucking me, in and out in a quick rhythm. I could feel the pressure building in my clit with each stroke. I spread my hips wider, wanting to feel every bump, all the friction. I was getting there. He was worse than a vibrator with dead batteries, but I was getting there with each steady plunge.
With a cry he pulled out and came all over my desk drawers. All the friction disappeared, the small spark of heat gone. I pushed him away.
"What the fuck was that?" I hissed.
"You're just too hot. I couldn't stop." The ages-old excuse of minute men the world over. What a waste of my time.
"Out!" I barked.
He looked down at his rapidly deflating dick, then gazed around my office as if looking for some help for it. There was none.
"Do you have any tissue?"
Un-fucking-believable.
"Get the fuck out of my office. Now."
He tucked his dick back in, the semen leaving dark stains on the front of his pants. I stood and tugged my skirt back into place. I rearranged my bra and rebuttoned my shirt.
He hurried to the double doors and turned to say something, but thought better of it and darted out. His first smart move of the day.
Now, with the morning sun streaming in, I looked around the conference table. I had more talent in this one room than most firms had in their history. And not just in smarts. One of my better associates, Cassie, could eat my pussy so well that after I came my fucking clit went numb from all the pleasure. Compared to that, Ivy League Prick was no loss.
"Is this because we fucked?" he asked.
He eyed the other associates, no doubt looking for signs of shock or amazement. There were none. My firm had two reputations. The first, and most important: I was the best at what I did. The second: Evangeline Pallida gets what she wants, even if that means an associate is the one giving it to her.
I was an admittedly harsh mistress, but I chose the best and paid them well. When my associates left, nine times out of ten it was on good terms. They continued their careers with my seal of approval and remembered their time with me, if not fondly, then with a healthy dose of gratitude for being shown the realities of how this business works.
Learning the realities almost broke me when I was a young lawyer-or maybe it did break me and all that remained of my younger self was shattered, sharp edges. Either way, the one kindness I did all my associates was to teach them the truth before sending them out into the dark, dirty city. The lesson was deceptively simple: The strong survive, and the only way to stay strong is to always have something to offer.
The problem with Ivy League Prick was that I didn't want what he had to offer. The free sample was enough.