Capturing Connie

Connie 5.5

"You made it," he says when I stop just in front of him.

"Sorry I'm late." I swallow away the nerves as best I can, hating how jittery I sound. "It's been crazy this morning."

"Same with me." He grabs hold of my elbow and leads me into his office, closing and locking the door behind us. The click is so loud that I internally flinch. I take a silent breath when I see the tie I bought him, laid out delicately on his desk as if he was studying it. "Do you really like it?" I ask when I turn to him, adding when I see his confused frown, "The tie?"

He releases a deep chuckle that has my insides pulsing with the pattern. "Oh yes, very much." He takes a step closer to me, reaching out to drift his fingers down the length of my arm. "Almost as much as this dress you're wearing."

I look down at my outfit and blush. I was going to wear something white today, but found this dress to be much more appealing. It's a black double button up, easy access if anyone was paying close enough attention. "Th-thank you," I shudder and stand in place anxiously. It's like my body wants to move but is paralyzed with fear. He smirks again and tugs me into him so our bodies are pressed against each other.

"Don't be nervous," he whispers just before he dips his head and presses his warm, damp lips to the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, resting my hands blindly on his chest. He's hot, physically. The heat that exudes from him is intoxicating and I sigh at the feeling. I want to let him touch me. I want to moan when his lips find an erogenous zone under my earlobe. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as I anchor myself to him. He slips his hand down my back until he's gripping my butt and he hauls me into him before pressing me against the side wall. I can already feel him, big and thick. He's hard. Hard for me. My cheeks fill with needy heat and I feel my pussy do the same.

"What do you want, Connie?" he asks when he lifts his head, his hazy brown eyes meeting mine. I part my lips, ready to say I have no idea, but he takes advantage, kissing me before I can say a word.

The kiss knocks the wind out of me and I moan into it, wrapping my legs around him. It's rough and hot and I let him take control. I roam my hands over his chest with feather light touches, then grip his shirt as he grinds into me.

"Well?" he asks seconds, minutes later. His breathing is harsh, his shirt a wrinkled mess from my seeking hands. I keep this up and I'll ruin this shirt for good. "What do you want from me?"

I stare up at him, at a loss for words. How can I express to him exactly what I want when I hardly know myself? I'm scared to say it. Embarrassed, too. I've never spoken freely about sex. That's more Stevonnie's style. Which is silly because I'm a grown woman with needs and wants, just like everyone else. I've been with other men. I've had orgasms, plenty of them. Brought on by myself, by a vibrator, by a man. Mostly brought on by myself ...

"Do you want me to touch you?" He presses his lips to my forehead, his hand still gripping my backside. "Do you want me to make you come?" he whispers against my skin.

Oh God. Everything inside me goes warm and tight and I nod, keeping my eyes tightly closed. "Yes," I say shakily. He leans in and give my neck a longing kiss before setting me down and stepping a bit away.

"Strip," he commands, his tone firm.

My mouth parts with shock. "What?"

He smiles, his gaze roving over me, hungry and unfettered. "The dress. For now."

No man has ever demanded that I strip in front of him. Usually they undress me. Or it's a hurried frenzy of pulling off clothes in bed, in the dark, whatever, eager to get naked quick.