Wind Therapy - A.J. Downey Page 0,30

head to the side and swept her up and down with my gaze. She didn’t have a lot of money. She couldn’t have. She came from poverty the like that shouldn’t even be on American soil by my estimation. Brand name shit from the Harley store wasn’t cheap. This meant something. What, I just didn’t know. Not yet.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the gift. She was right. It was right up my alley and with how hard I was getting in my jeans; I was about to be right up hers.

I shut the door and tossed the shirt she’d bought me up onto my shoulder.

“Turn around, hands on the desk. If you’re up for it, I’m going to eat your pussy then fuck you into next week.”

Her eyes widened and she sort of just froze. Like a little rabbit.

“Because I bought you a shirt to say thanks for getting me out of that shithole?” she asked.

I smiled and knew it was a bit feral.

“A man needs to know when to show his appreciation – the how of it is personal to him. Welcome to the life, Zaychik. I can either fuck you on my desk, here and now, which is my preference… or out on the pool table out there in front of the guys.” I was only throwing that option in to get what I wanted. My hard-on was starting to ache already. At the slight edge of utter fear and panic on her face, I backpedaled. “Although, I suppose, if I must, I could wait until I got you back at my place but where’s the fun in that?”

She swallowed hard, and I watched the calculations formulate and play out behind her eyes.

“Here,” she whispered and turned around, putting her palms flat to my desk’s top, sticking out that gorgeous ass of hers as if I were the man and she were about to be frisked.

I went to her and pressed my body to hers, gauging things, rubbing my cock back and forth against her pussy through the layers of fabric that separated us.

She was the perfect height in her boots to take me. I massaged her shoulders and she tensed even more until I murmured, “Relax, baby. It’s gonna be all good, I promise. There’s no bad here.”

I grunted in appreciation and sucked in a breath past clenched teeth. “You are so goddamn sexy, ” I whispered, and some more of the tension left her.

“Yeah?” she asked, stammering, her voice tripping over the word, her insecurities bubbling to the surface with the onset of her nervousness.

“Fuck yeah,” I said and smacked her jeans-clad ass. She jumped slightly and moaned, thrusting herself back against me. I gripped her hips and pressed forward, meeting the backward jerk of her hips and the friction building between us was delicious.

“You like it dirty like this?” she asked, her voice husky.

“I’ll take you any way I can get you,” I answered. “But yeah, the filthier the better.” I leaned over her and swept my hands to the front of her pants. She made to pull her hands off the top of the desk, to help me I think, and I admonished her with a sharp, “Ah!”

I paused in my attempts to get her pants undone and down, so I could fuck her first with my mouth then with my cock, until I was sure she was going to comply.

She didn’t know it, but I’d already read her like a damn book. She was feisty, had the potential to be fiery, and it was a monumental turn-on to keep that fire tamed. The only way to do that was through firm consistency and so here we were. Her training started now.

“Keep those hands right where I can see them,” I ordered coldly through a smile she couldn’t see with the way she faced forward. She made to turn her head and I snapped, “Eyes front!”

She defied me, looking back and with a devilish grin, I made her pay for it, slapping her ass with a resounding crack of my hand. It only semi had the desired effect. She faced forward, but she also thrust her ass back against me and writhed so beautifully, I damn near bust a nut in my pants.

I worked her belt from its loops and asked her, “You trust me?”

“Yes and no,” she said truthfully.

“You trust me not to hurt you?” I demanded.

“Physically?”

“We’ll start there, yeah.”

“Yes and no.”

I paused.

“I will never hit you in any way that isn’t erotic,”