Sexy Erotica
"Games in Confined Spaces" a sex story by Lena Hart
Stephanie was not particularly fond of small spaces at the best of times. So, being thrust beneath a desk by her sometime-boss simply because an important client had entered the room was not the highlight of her day.
Something hit her softly on the knee: her blouse. All things considered, Stephanie understood why Vincent Grey had so unceremoniously pushed her out of sight. That he had chosen the desk for her hiding place, though, she could not forgive, especially when the office’s closets – she smirked at the memory – were so very roomy.
Male voices filled the room as Vincent Grey invited his guest to take a seat, and the two men set about baiting each other in that half-aggressive, half-friendly, altogether aggravating way men of a certain wealthy sort excel at. Stephanie rolled her eyes, and almost yelped as Vincent sat down at his desk and pulled the chair closer. With one of Vincent Grey’s knees flanking each of her shoulders, Stephanie was beginning to feel quite cramped.
Above her, conversation commenced. Stephanie stifled a sigh as she recognized the second man’s voice. Connor Blakely. The man could talk for hours; her sentence, it seemed, would be a long one.
However…
Vincent Grey had, perhaps, made a mistake in concealing Stephanie in such close quarters so very soon after practically tearing off her blouse. Her lips still throbbed with the force of his kisses – and his bites – and all at once Stephanie’s irritation melted away as her body tingled with tense anticipation.
She rested her head on Vincent’s left thigh. The fabric of his trousers was soft against her cheek, and far too thin to keep the heat of his body from escaping to touch her skin. She sighed, softly, silently, her breath hot against his leg, and felt his muscles tense at its touch. Oh, yes.
What was it he had said, that first time? If you want me to stop, say this word …
Stephanie shifted her position slowly, careful not to make any noise as Vincent continued his conversation above her head. She wondered how much it would take to unsettle that smooth, measured voice. Soon, she was kneeling between his legs.
Gently, Stephanie let her fingertips trail from her former employer’s ankles up his calves, avoiding any contact with the strip of skin that lay bare between his socks and the hems of his trouser legs. She squeezed his calves gently just below the knee, and was rewarded with a definite reaction: Vincent clenched his legs around her, only gently, and only for as long as it took for Stephanie to grow dizzy with the feeling of being constrained. And then he released her.
That, she reasoned, was as good as an invitation.
Paying dutiful attention now to Vincent’s conversation with Mr. Blakely – she certainly had no wish to miss the safe-word, should Vincent decide this was all too much for him – Stephanie moved forward by inches. Vincent had pulled his chair in far enough for his legs to be entirely beneath the desk, and Stephanie pressed forward up his thighs, joining her caresses with kisses, feather-soft through the fabric of his trousers. Raising her eyes as she neared his crotch, Stephanie saw that her ministrations had certainly not gone unnoticed. She smiled and pressed her face into the bulge of Vincent’s cock, humming throatily. Was it her imagination, or did his voice hitch?
Stephanie pulled back. Her own heart was pounding, with the heat of her own desire and the thrill of danger. Public sex was one thing, but this – this! – she licked her lips, eyes closed. If she were discovered, she couldn’t imagine what Vincent would do to her.
One hand firmly cupping Vincent’s crotch, Stephanie began to work at the buttons of his fly, undoing them first with her free hand and then her teeth, nuzzling into him. Finally his trousers were completely undone; but there was still the matter of underwear. She already knew that Vincent favored briefs, often restricting, and now very much so. She took hold of the waistband at either side, and pulled firmly to let him know what she wanted.
Vincent grunted, and moved slightly in his seat. To Connor Blakely, perhaps, he seemed only to be making himself more comfortable; but Stephanie used the brief movement to pull his briefs down far enough that she could ease out his erect cock.
Stephanie had never been one to care much for measurements, but Vincent Grey made her cunt ache like no one else. She leaned in, covering the head of his cock with her mouth, and moaned – quietly, quietly, she reminded herself, as Vincent coughed hurriedly. She licked away his precum and swirled her tongue around his cock, pressing further and further onto him.
That was the one problem with this situation. There was no way that Vincent could spare one of his hands and still play everything straight, so Stephanie was left without the forceful guidance that brought her arousal to exquisite heights. She moaned in disappointment, and felt every muscle in Vincent’s body clench. Yes.
He was finding it harder now to carry on the conversation, she could tell; he tensed, coughed, tapped his fingertips urgently on the tabletop. Stephanie imagined sweat beading on his brow, his eyes glowing, as he sat trapped behind his solid oak desk, control, for once, out of his own hands. She moved her hands now: ran them roughly across his thighs and around to grab hold bruise-hard at his buttocks.
Vincent shuddered – silently. Stephanie had not won yet.
Connor Blakely’s voice became laced with concern: Was Mr. Grey feeling a bit under the weather? Vincent’s reply was a murmur, low, and tinged with a certain threat only Stephanie could decipher. Yes, a bit under the weather – thought he could work it off, but what can you do. Mr. Blakely would understand if he could not show him out, of course. Would continue the meeting on Monday.
The doors clicked behind Connor Blakely, softly, surely. Beneath the desk, Stephanie quivered.
Vincent stood up, breathing heavily. He steadied himself for one brief second against his desk, and then stepped away, his back turned to Stephanie.
“Get out of there, you little wretch,” he growled, wiping his forehead. “God almighty …”
Stephanie obeyed meekly, and found her legs wobbling under her. But before she could fall he was there, grabbing her roughly around the waist and pulling her to lie stomach-down across his desk.
“Vincent –”
“Don’t speak,” he ordered, his voice thick with passion. Stephanie twisted her head around and caught a glimpse of his face, of his black hair disordered above a sweaty brow. He held her jaw firmly in one hand and lowered his face to hers, holding her body in place with the weight of her body. “Not one word. Not after that torture.” He kissed her hard, teeth scraping against lip, and pulled away.
Stephanie heard Vincent open and sort through a drawer, and the quick sound of tearing plastic as he ripped open the condom wrapper. He kept her pinned as he put it on, his breath now coming in short, heavy gasps.
At last she felt his hands roaming her backside, unrelenting as he stripped away her skirt and snapped her garters as he tore away her knickers and pantyhose. Stephanie did not move. This was her punishment, and she would gladly take it.
Vincent pressed his weight down on top of her, making the edge of the desk dig into Stephanie’s side. She cried out, and felt his cock pushing against her backside. “Not a word,” Vincent repeated, and plunged his entire length into her in one swift thrust.
Stephanie bit back a gasp of delight. Vincent shifted on top of her, lifting his torso – she could feel his eyes on her, on her trembling half-naked body and the join where his cock penetrated her. He pulled out, slowly, placing one hand on either side of her hips and thrust in again, using his grip on her to let him pound deeper and harder into her. Stephanie could feel herself getting wetter as he filled her again and again, rougher this time than ever before. The blissful pleasure built up inside of her, exquisite torment growing greater until she could hold it in no longer. Stephanie’s back arched as her entire body was shaken by orgasm and she felt Vincent’s breath hot on the back of her neck.
But she did not cry out.
Vincent dug his fingertips into her side as he came, burying his groan in her neck. He stood fully inside her a long moment longer, slowly releasing his grip on her until he held her caressed in his arms. Stephanie leant back into his embrace, savoring the world and her victory.
“And to think I let you leave my employment,” Vincent murmured into her hair.
Stephanie laughed. She may no longer draw a paycheck as one of Vincent Grey’s staff, but she doubted, after today, that she would ever stop serving him.
Originally published January 2011