Fuck.

He didn’t have a condom.

He almost lost it when he looked at her, her lips swollen from his kisses, her dark brown nipples standing at attention from where he’d twisted and sucked them, her eyes begging for more.

And wanted to give her just that. Nothing would be better than feeling her silken walls milking his cock until he emptied all he had inside her.

He made a promise to himself that he would feel that, but for now…

He pushed Constance back against the desk and then worked his way down her body, pausing to suck her nipple again. Constance rewarded him with a deep, almost guttural moan that mirrored his own driving need.

His resolve not to bury himself inside her bare was shaken but when he dropped to his knees and kissed her inner thigh, thoughts of anything but tasting her left his mind.

He lifted her skirt higher, his eyes centered on her black panties, stared intently at the faint outline of her slit.

Milo breathed in deep, inhaled the intoxicating aroma of Constance.

Then he pressed his lips against that scrap of black silk. Constance hitched, her hands flying to his shoulders, squeezing him tight.

Though he was still clothed, he felt the heat of her hands against him, the tension in her fingers as she clung to him.

She breathed out hard, and when he brushed his tongue over her panties, she arched again, thrusting her pussy against his face.

He barked out a quick laugh, amused and so turned on to see this eager side of Constance that he hadn’t before. But the amusement was short-lived, the urge to drink from her, touch her, be with her sending his blood surging through his veins, making his heart beat wild and erratic.

He curled his fingers in the waistband of her panties and then pulled, smiling when the material gave a satisfying rip.

Constance squeaked, and he looked up at her, saw the surprise in her expression as he pulled the shredded material from her body.

But that surprise soon melted into a look of deep satisfaction when he pressed his thumb against her clit and then stroked the hard bud. Her eyes lit and she arched harder, rocking into his finger.

Milo watched her, pure satisfaction racing through him as beautiful, writhing Constance sought pleasure from him, confirming that what he had suspected—and hoped for—had been right.

For years he had fantasized about this moment, imagined seeing Constance deep in the grip of passion that he was creating.

It was everything he had imagined.

More.

More. He needed more. He moved his thumb away and covered that spot with his tongue, swiping it across her hard button.

Constance’s sharp breath that melted into a sigh told him to do it again, so he did, then dropped lower, letting his tongue lave the wet, tender flesh of her pussy.

She was soaking wet, her juices coating her, and Milo lapped at her greedily, trying to collect every drop of her.

Then he held his tongue rigid, pushed it inside her and pulled out quickly, simulating the way he would take her with his fingers and then his cock.

She had tightened her hands on his shoulders and bucked against him wildly, smashing her pussy into his face unabashedly.

Milo locked his arms around her hips and held her, stabbing his tongue in and out and sucking on her clit.

“Milo!” Constance called.

Her voice was needy, breathless, and when he closed his teeth around her clit she exploded. Her slit, which was already drenched, got even wetter, her body tight as she came on his tongue.

Milo was hard, throbbing, but he could think of nothing more satisfying than being with Constance like this, holding her as she came down from her climax.

He licked the inside of her thigh, letting his lips linger in the warm, soft skin there and then he pulled back.

Constance slumped and then looked at him, her pupils wide and dilated, her lips still swollen, her expression one of bliss. Milo lifted her and then walked her to the small loveseat in the corner of his office.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and then he kissed her gently.

After a lingering stare, he went to the attached bath and wiped his face, sad to lose Constance’s essence, but knowing he would still taste her for hours to come.

He made his way back to her and pulled her onto her feet. She sighed, but stood, blinking as he pulled her skirt down and settled it in place, and then he adjusted her blouse and jacket.

Then, he brushed his lips against hers. “I wish I could stay…” he said.

Constance blinked and then nodded. “You have a one o’clock. I’ll prepare your files,” she said, sounding like herself, no real hint that she had just been tongue-fucked on his desk.

Constance retreated, walking steadily by the time she reached his door.

Milo wished he had even a fraction of her calm.

More than anything he wanted to slam himself inside her.

Later, he decided.

He smiled slowly, anticipating what was to come.