Sunny swallowed hard as his words made her juices flow almost faster than his presence. Just as his mouth descended on hers, she whispered, “Promises, promises, Sir,” and he lifted her onto him, brushing aside both his pajamas and her panties to hold her still as he thrust himself inside her then moved with her so that her back was braced against the wall. He fucked her, for the second time that morning, bringing them both to crashing, shuddering orgasms that left them collapsed in on each other.
He was the one who came to his senses first. “You have to get up and go to work, baby.”
“I do?”
It would have been so easy for him to say, “No, you never have to work again. Live with me and be my love, and I’ll keep you chained to the wall when it suits me, blister your bottom on a whim, and fuck you till you can’t see straight any time I get the urge.”
But he didn’t. Damn his conscience!
“Yeah,” he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m afraid you do. And so do I. But we’ll be together on the weekend.”
She looked up at him, and for a moment he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he must’ve been mistaken. High powered corporate executives didn’t cry, did they? “You promise?”
Nothing had ever tugged more at his heartstrings. “I promise,” he vowed solemnly, then got her up and rearranged her clothing, taking great satisfaction in knowing that he was going to be inside her for a while longer, even if it was only kind of by proxy.
In the driveway minutes later, just as she was going to pull away, he called to her and she rolled over next to him with her window down.
Rod leaned in to give her one more long, luxurious kiss, then warn sternly as he reluctantly moved a bit away, “One more thing - remember – no touching.”
Her answer was to peel out of his driveway, coming damned near close to spraying him with gravel.
He could have ended up just dirty, or she could have put his eye out with one of those pebbles. Someone needed to teach Ms. Sunny McClure some manners, and he was just the man for the job.