Total Control: Deeper In

Mr. Thomas slipped his hand into mine. I had never been past these outer rooms. The foyer and living room. He pulled me deeper in. Past the living room up a grand staircase. My hands flicked over the bulbous wooden rails as we moved past them too fast to explore the dark curves.

He didn't turn on lights, but I saw outlines of furniture; tables with empty vases. Had his wife filled them with flowers? We passed a wall with a scattering of pictures but some were missing. The spacing of the remaining photos seemed too odd to be deliberate, almost uncomfortable.

Had Mrs. Thomas taken them or did Mr. Thomas remove them?

Our rush came to a brief pause as he pushed open a large oak door. He turned on a light. I stood inside while he crossed the room and opened a drawer. His back was to me, but he spoke over his shoulder, “Remove your bra.”

I froze at his instructions. The command bristled over my skin.

“I can take you home.” The threat was a soft reminder that refusal ended everything.

I unhooked the clasp and dropped the black fabric to the floor. His eyes caressed me.

He came to me wordless and motioned for me to lift my chin as he immediately closed the gap and wrapped a collar around my throat. He fastened the clasp at the back of my neck

. “Lovely,” he murmured, running a finger over the leather. “Don’t move.” His hands dropped away only to rise up, cup and clasp my breasts, his eyes locked with mine as he massaged my breasts. He watched me intently as his fingers danced backwards and centered on my nipples.

I knew he often checked out my chest at the office, especially on cold mornings when my nipples showed. I pretended not to notice, but sometimes I played it up with tight shirts, low cut tops, or no jacket. Only on days I needed a boost.

Tonight, he pinched and tugged the sensitive centers. “My clamps are missing so I’ll have to pay extra attention.” He squeezed and I whimpered. “Eyes open, I want to see your pupils.”

I didn’t have to look at him. My gaze focused on a spot over his shoulder, the curtains covering the window. Before I found his secret ad, I would have said I was immune to his looks. That was a lie. Mr. Thomas made my body flutter when I walked into his office.

He pinched tighter on both sides and I panted. Abruptly, he let go and I panicked. What was he doing? Simultaneously, he shed his shirt and pants. I knew he worked out but… damn. My fingers itched to rub the coarse hair covering an impressive set of pecs. His arms and shoulders could hold up the world. Perhaps they did.

“Touch me,” he urged before I glanced further down.

I stepped forward and put my hands on his shoulders. His muscles remained firm as I moved down his chest and abs. I followed the trail of hair from his navel to his erection. My nails grazed the head of his cock.

“Impressive.” I took a half step back as I spoke so I could admire him with appropriate appreciation. A good dick is something to admire and this one was worthy of admiration. Warm steel, powerful, yet with him in my hand I could manipulate him.

His breath hissed between his teeth. “Wrap your hand around me and stroke. I haven't had sex in two weeks and I spent all week looking at your ass.”

“Yes Sir.” I met his eyes as I stroked his cock. Part of me wanted to run. I wasn’t special. A warm body, young and pretty. My hands faltered as hot tears pressed my eyes.

“You came to me,” he reminded me. “But I can tell you how you differ from the last three women I fucked.” Mr. Thomas pinched my nipple hard to punctuate his words

I gasped and squirmed.

He twisted. “I never allowed them in my house. I never asked them to endure any pain. And I didn’t need to fuck them so I’d stop fantasizing about them at work.”

My face heated to a boiling point. “I didn't mean to feel jealous. Of course, you have slept with other women.”

“Fuck. I fucked them. Like I will fuck you. Get on my bed, on your hands and knees. I will get a condom.”

My eyes tracked him as I knelt on the bed. He covered himself before kneeling on the bed behind me.

His hand pushed my thighs wider. Two fingers entered my pussy, my body sucked him in. I rode his fingers; I couldn’t control myself.

“So eager to be fucked. I spent a year appreciating your body, and I didn’t know the extent of your talents.”

His hand pulled out but was quickly replaced by his cock pressing against me.

“Do you want me as much as I want you Miss Sharpe?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Thomas. I want you… to… uh.”

“Say it. Tell me.” He growled.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He grabbed my hips and slammed into me. “God yes, you are tight.”

He slammed me again, his fingers digging into me painfully. The speed of his thrusts matched the pressure in my body. The mix of pain and pleasure was his intention.

His pace slowed as he fought to catch his breath. I relaxed, thinking I’d missed his orgasm.

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “Not yet, Miss Sharpe.” His free hand wrapped around my throat lightly as he drove for pleasure.

Orgasm coiled and writhed in me and each thrust pulled it tighter until one thrust burst it open, flooding me with ecstasy. Satisfaction snapped through the network of nerves in my body.

When I returned to consciousness, I realized he’d come too. I missed the moment, but it didn’t matter.

“Simultaneous orgasm on the first try. Not bad.” He left me cold on the bed. I wanted to collapse, but I knew I had to leave. Joel Thomas wasn't the type to cuddle, so I knew he'd demand my departure once he recovered. He tossed me my dress and I met his eyes, a layer of ice covering them. My skin was still warm, so it was difficult to match Mr. Thomas with the man who gave me incomparable pleasure only moments ago.

He tossed me my dress. I searched the floor beside the bed for my bra. “No bra,” he demanded from where he dressed. “For the rest of the week. I’d prefer no panties.”

My eyes rounded. “What? You can’t control what I wear at work!”

“You gave me control,” he said evenly.

“And you said one night.” I pulled on my dress with hands shaking.

“You didn’t say stop, so we aren’t finished.” Mr. Thomas found a loophole in his own rules.

He dropped me at my place fifteen minutes later. I shed my dress, my body dripping and warm. I touched the collar then ran a fingertip across my lips as I silently mouthed the word “Stop” into the mirror. What the hell would happen Monday morning?