Stories From The 6 Train 2(80)

He looks at the tablet and freezes.

Oh right. I forgot to tell you the name.

I'll tell you later, okay?

Because right now Mason's looking at me, and asking, "Where did you get this?"

I shrug. "Standard SEC filings," I tell him. "It's open to the public. You just gotta know where to look."

Mason shakes his head.

"I have four fucking VPs trying to find something...anything, and they've come up short," he says with disgust. "And you weren't even assigned to this."

"You just gotta know where to look," I say, trying not to blush at his offhanded compliment. "I have an ulterior motive."

"What's that?" Mason asks me with the beginnings of a smile.

I smile as I walk over.

"I want to see Daddy happy," I say with a mischievous smile of my own.

"Well, listen, Becca," Mason says to me. "Talk to my admin if you need to, but can you please keep digging on this path? Go explore this angle. I need someone that Lorna isn't going to keep tabs on and you're perfect."

He's asking me to work in secret.

For him. Against my own mother.

My vile, ruthless, lying, mother.

Yeah, I know, right? Tough choice.

"I only have one price," I say to him, my mind wandering back to earlier.

He sees the twinkle in my eyes.

"What's that?" he asks.

I take the last few steps toward him and sink to my knees.

Without another word, I push his chair out a little bit and position myself underneath the desk.

Wow, am I glad I had the foresight to close the door behind me.





Mason





She goes down to her knees and I lean back against my chair, allowing her to kneel under my desk. Placing her hands on my knees, she runs them up to my crotch, never taking her eyes off of mine.

“This is my price, Daddy dearest,” she whispers, a lewd smile adorning her lips. Fuck, this is the kind of price I’m more than willing to pay. My heart starts to race, pumping blood to my cock and hardening it. It doesn’t take long for all of my length to strain against the fabric of my pants, its thick shape bulging and aching to feel the touch of her fingers.

She moves slowly, running her fingers back and forth over my legs, but never actually reaching for my crotch. She’s teasing me, torturing me, and it’s fucking working. With each passing second my cock grows harder and harder, and the need to simply ram it inside of her mouth becomes almost too overwhelming.

When she finally goes for my cock, she does it with only one finger. She places it at the base of my bulging shape, brushes it all the way up to its tip, and then back down again. She repeats the motion over and over again, my cock pulsing against her fingers harshly.

“Patience,” she whispers, her smile turning into a wicked grin. Patience? Fuck, patience was never one of my virtues. I’m used to taking what I want, when I want it… But, somehow, it’s different with Becca. With her, I can wait; after all, the payoff is always worth it.

She places one more finger on my shaft, and keeps caressing it with these gentle motions. Then, finally feeling me ready for more, she takes her hands to my belt and unbuckles it. Once my belt is open, she pulls it out from its loops and lets it fall to the floor at my feet. She goes back to brushing her fingers over the hard shape of my cock, and I feel my mouth turning dry. The fucking anticipation is killing me.

Then, no warning whatsoever, she flattens the palm of her hand against my cock. She does it harshly, and I groan as I feel the pressure against my shaft. She takes her hand off of my crotch as fast as she pressed on it, her fingers flying to my waist. With slow deliberate movements, she starts pulling my zipper down and my cock starts to push its way out from its bindings. It brushes against the back of her hand, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes, my heart kicking against my chest.

Once she’s finally done, she presses her hand against my cock, over my boxer briefs. I groan, pleasure rushing through me like a drug. I place both of my hands on her head, running my fingers through her hair, but I allow her to keep her rhythm.

Brushing her fingers up and down my cock, she finally leans into me, tilting her head sideways and resting her lips against my shaft. The fabric of my boxer briefs remains between us, but the pressure of her mouth is enough to send a shiver up my spine. She knows what she’s doing, that much is for sure.

“You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy, baby girl,” I whisper, throwing my head back and sighing.

“I know,” she tells me deviously, once again pressing the palm of her hand against my shaft. She presses harder this time, and my cock pulses violently against her fingers. As a response, she hooks her fingers on my boxer briefs and, moving with a maddening slowness, she starts to pull them down. My cock springs free at once, forcing her to simply tug on my boxers, and I have to take a deep breath. Fuck, she’s barely touching me and I’m already as hard as I’ve ever been.