As soon as the car pulls up to the house, Katherine is out of that thing like a bat out of hell. It’s actually laughable. She's practically running, full throttle, toward the door.
I catch her arm at the front door, and spin her around to face me. Her breath is short, and I know full and well it’s not because of that little jog; I've watched Katherine at track practice at Brighton enough to know that.
“Is Rose home?” I ask, and I know what the answer is by the expression on her face -- lust mixed with apprehension.
“No,” she says. “And I’m going upstairs. You do what you want.”
“Ask me what I want.”
“No,” she says. “And there’s a security camera out here.” I let her go, and she opens the door, but once we're inside, I put my hand right back where it was on her wrist and pull her against me, against my hardness.
"What the hell are you doing?” she asks.
“There are no cameras in here, right?” I ask.
“So?” She turns her face up, her jaw set. “Do you think that means you can just grab me like some kind of caveman?”
“Ask me what I want, Princess,” I repeat, pulling her more tightly against me.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“I’ll stop calling you that when I’m buried inside you,” I say, trailing my finger down her cleavage to where the fabric on the top of her dress barely covers it. Her chest rises as she inhales sharply. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Don't I want to know what, asshole?”
“Don’t you want to know what I want?”
“What do you want, Caulter?”
I slide the thin strap of her white dress over her shoulder. I’m tempted to rip it off entirely, along with the dress, but I refrain. “I want to hear you say what you want me to do to you, what you’ve been dying for me to do to you since that night.” I lean in closer and trace the side of her neck below her earlobe with the tip of my tongue. When I graze my teeth against her skin, she jumps.
“No,” Katherine protests, covering her neck with her hand. “If you left a mark…”
“If you don’t tell me what you want, then I’m going to tell you what I'm going to do to you.” I pause for a minute and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Not what I want to do to you. What I’m going to do to you. I’m going to fuck you right here on the floor of your entryway in the foyer of your father’s house.”
“You think so?” she asks.
“I know so,” I say.
“Then what?” she whispers.
I yank the sides of the dress up over her thighs, sliding my hands around her curvy ass and cupping her cheeks. She lets out a little moan when I grip her, my fingers digging into her skin. “Then I’m going to take you into the dining room and lay you across the table so I can lick your pussy right there while I sit in the chair where your father will eat dinner tonight."
“Caulter!” Katherine brings her hand to her mouth as if she’s somehow surprised. Or embarrassed. But she and I both know that the uptight virgin act is all a show.
She pushes me away and starts down the hallway. I don't catch her until she's passing her father's study, but when I do, I push her up against the doorframe, just like I did at the entryway of her bedroom this morning.
“Daddy’s office?” I ask. “This could work.”
“No way,” she says.
“I’m not finished,” I say.
"Finished with what?"
"I'm not finished telling you what I'm about to do to you, Princess." I reach underneath her dress and inside her panties, silencing her. But when I plunge my fingers into her wet cunt, she groans. “I’m going to make this tight, sweet little pussy mine.”
“What?” Her eyelids are at half-mast, her eyes rolling back in her head as I stroke inside her. “I am...not….yours.”
“This. Is. Mine." I don’t know why I say it, or why the fuck I’m so insistent about it. I just am. Maybe I want to rile her up. I've never wanted to claim anyone before.
She grips my wrist, forcing me to stop. “I am not a piece of property, Caulter Sterling,” she says. “Just so we’re clear. You might have your fingers inside me, but I'm not yours.”
“Big words, Princess,” I say, as I thrust my fingers in and out of her. “Too bad they’re not true. This is not a discussion. It’s a fact. This pussy is mine. You are mine.”
“Why can’t you just shut up?” she asks, her voice breathy. “Why do you have to be such a...prick?”
I slide my fingers out of her, and she gapes at me, open-mouthed. "Keep looking at me with your mouth open like that," I threaten. With my hand on her back, I lead her into the study and shut the door.
"And what?"
"What do you think?" I ask, sliding my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor. "I'll give you something to put in it."
"You're so crude," she says. "And stop taking your clothes off. We're in my father's office. It's..."
"Scandalous? Taboo? Just too naughty for the good girl?" I ask.
Her eyes linger on my chest. "I didn't know you had such a large vocabulary, Caulter," she says. "I was thinking more like disgusting and filthy."
I make a show of stripping off my pants as she watches me. "Filthy?" I ask. "You haven't seen filthy yet."
"Why are you taking your pants off in my father's office?" she asks stupidly. She knows the answer.
"You know why, Princess," I say. "Because you need to let loose. And getting fucked in your father's study is the best way of doing that. Unless you’d prefer the dining room first.”
“No I would not,” she says, her voice an emphatic no. But she doesn't move, and her eyes are fixated on my bare cock. “I would prefer…”
I stroke my length, giving her a show since she wants to look at it so damn much. “Wrapping your mouth around me and taking every inch until I fill your sweet little mouth with cum?”
“Oh my God, you are so crude." Again, her words say she's disgusted. But her hand is no longer at her mouth; it's on her chest, palm covering her breast.
"No, Princess, this would be crude." I cross to where she stands. From behind her, I bend her over and place her palms flat on her father's desk. She's quiet now; all I can hear is her breath.
I flip that sweet, flirty little skirt of hers, the one that's wedding white, pure as the driven snow, over her ass.
The ass I've been dying to grip while I plunge my cock inside her.
The ass I've been fantasizing about smacking every time she makes a smartass comment about anything.
So I do it. I bring my hand back, and -- thwack -- down hard against her ass cheek, leaving a red handprint on her flesh.
She looks over her shoulder, indignant. Yet she's not restrained in any way, and doesn't stand up. "Did you just spank me?"
I grin. "It won't be the last time I do it, either."
"Do women fall for this shit?" she asks.
"You're the one bent over your father's desk, Princess," I note, caressing the place I just hit. "You're also the one who's soaking wet. So you tell me."
"It doesn't mean I'm falling for anything." But she's still as I slip her panties over her bare ass and drop them to the floor.
"Whatever you say, sweetheart." I say. "Remind yourself of that when you're coming on my tongue."
"Caulter," she protests, but only until I start to lick her, my hands gripping her ass cheeks and pulling her pussy against my mouth. I make my way over every inch of her sweet lips, rolling my tongue over and over her clit as she stands, unmoving, bent over the desk. The word becomes less of a protest and more of a moan. "Caulter. Oh, Caulter."
That moan again, the one where she moans my name, is the one that kills me. It’s the one I use to mock her, but it's crazy how insane it makes me, hearing it come out of her mouth. I suck her clit into my mouth, and thrust my fingers inside her until her legs are quivering and she’s calling out my name over and over like it’s the only word in the English language she can remember. I plunge my tongue inside her sweet entrance.
“Caulter,” she moans. “Don’t stop. I’m going to -- I’m going to -- Oh my God, Caulter!” She cries out when she comes against me, her juices covering my face.
I'm not even going to give her even a moment to recover. I just stand up and walk over to my pile of clothes, taking a condom from my wallet and wrapping my dick before I return to her.
Her face is flushed. “That was --” she begins to speak.
“I don’t want to talk,” I warn. “I’m hard as a fucking rock and I want to be inside you.”
“Caulter, I --” She’s about to say something, but whatever the hell it is, I’m not about to listen. This girl has been teasing me long enough. "Stop talking. I'm done talking. I've been thinking non-stop about bending you over and fucking you, and that's what I'm going to do."
Katherine's face flushes. "You've been thinking about me?"
"Non-fucking-stop." I slide my hands down her arms, my chest pressed up against her back, my hard cock against her flesh, then run them over her breasts, and down her sides to grip her ass. Her skirt is bunched up around her waist, and she moans as she presses against me. "And you've been thinking about me. Tell me you have."
"Yes." She says it so softly I can barely hear it.
"Spread your legs," I order, and she complies. I'm not playing anymore. I press the tip of my cock against her entrance. "Tell me again. Have you been thinking about the last time I fucked you?"
"Yes," she whispers. I guide my cock inside her, gentle despite the fact that she's bent over her father's desk, her wet pussy practically begging for me to slide into her in one thrust. She's so fucking tight I'm surprised she can take me. But she does, her slickness making it easy for me to slip inside. She pushes her hips against me, letting out a groan under her breath, primal-sounding.
I thrust inside her slowly, my hands on her hips. "You thought of me while you touched yourself?"
"Yes," she says softly. "Yes. Yes."
"Touch yourself now," I order, and she does, rubbing her clit with her fingers. I reach up with one hand and tug at the strap of her dress. It doesn't come loose, so I yank harder, ripping the fabric off her shoulder and sliding my hand under her bra to cup. "Did you come thinking about me inside you?"
She's making this little half-moan, half-grunting sound as she touches herself. Her pussy so flooded with wetness that I can't keep myself from thrusting into her harder and harder.
Her grip on the desk slips, and papers go flying off in every direction, important papers, her father's work I'm sure. I'm bending the Senator's uptight daughter over his desk and scattering his papers everywhere.
"Did you think about my cock sliding in and out of your tight little pussy?" I ask.
"Yes," she pants, her hand moving frantically between her thighs. Her pussy tightens around me and I know she's close. "Fuck. Caulter...Yes."
"You wanted this hard cock inside you," I say, my grip on her hips harder. I'm so close to exploding. "You wanted this fucking cock inside you, filling you up with my hot cum. Say it."
"Yes, yes," she moans.
"Say it now."
"Oh my God," she gasps. She loses her grip on the edge of the desk and something else falls to the ground with a thud, but I don't give a shit about it. "I'm going to..."
"Fuck, Kate, I'm going to come," I warn, before I do, slamming my cock inside her with one final thrust and gripping her hips as I pull her against me. Her moan is loud in the stillness of the house, and when she comes, her muscles tighten around my cock, milking every last ounce of cum from me.
I'm breathing heavily, my fingers pressing into her flesh for what seems like an eternity before I can even think straight. When I finally pull out of her, I roll off the condom and look around for the trash.
"Don't you dare," she hisses at me.
"What?"
"Don't throw that away in here," she says, looking around. "Shit. I think we broke this." She pulls her dress down and squats to the floor to pick up a letter tray, clearly cracked along the edge.
I grab tissues from the desk to wrap the condom before getting my jeans. "So much for an orgasm helping you with your uptight-ness."
She's busily shoving papers back where they go, while I'm slipping my shirt back over my head. "Is that what you were trying to do?" she asks, placing the letter tray back on the desk while she mumbles something about finding glue. "I didn't know fucking me would magically transform me. It sure didn't change you into Prince Charming."
"Would you be Cinderella in this scenario?" I ask. "Because I doubt Cinderella was a bitch." She picks up a book from the desk and throws it, and it grazes my arm. "What, are you twelve?"
"You called me a bitch," she says, her eyes flashing. "What the hell do you expect?"
"I did not call you a bitch." I set the book back in its place on the desk. "I said I doubted Cinderella was one."
"Implying that I am."
"Imply nothing," I say. "Guilty conscience?"
"You're the most irritating person I've ever met." Her ass is pressed up against the desk, and I'm leg to leg against her. “I hate you.” She has the most fuckable mouth I've ever seen.
"The feeling is completely mutual," I say, before I bring my mouth down on hers, crushing her lips against mine.