Hear me out; professor student roleplay with Dolly. It’s up to you if you want to be her perfect A student or the naughty student 😏
-🌀
yeesSSSSS
if you’re a good, obedient, straight-A student, Dolly loves inviting you to stay after class (her eyes quickly sweeping over your body). You’ll get rewarded, any possible way you could want— when she hears a flustered ask, for you to be able to see her tits (Cute…), she climbs into your lap and unbuttons her shirt, allowing you to do the honors of pulling the fabric and letting them spill out. She smiles at your wide-eyed look and the way your breath hitches, but she gasps when she suddenly feels you lean forward and press the flat of your tongue against her nipple, still covered (just barely) by her lacy black bra.
that’s only if you’re good, if you’re a bad? Perhaps a class clown who can’t keep their damn mouth shut, or your stereotypical “bad boy/girl” who shows up late, pops their gum in class— General juvenile shit she doesn’t have the patience for. Well, Dolly calls you to stay behind for “extra help”, and before you know it, you’re spread out in her lap, impaled on a strap. Dolly is careful not to touch you more than necessary, allowing the heavy dick, the ridges and bumps along its length, to drag harshly against your walls.
You’ll stay like that, cockwarming her pretty plastic cock until you say the magic words - “I’m sorry, Miss, I won’t do it again”- but seeing as you’re preoccupied, trying to roll your hips against her to no avail, it’ll take a while before you figure out the password that’ll make her give you everything you want and more.
words: 1.2k~
cw: smut, soft fluff (bc Dante loves her very much) I guess, legal age gap (25&33)
a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.
May 5th, 2024
Dante sat outside his shop, watching the delivery driver carrying inside spools upon spools of new fabric he had ordered, a cigarette between his fingers and eyes locked on the sun lowering in the horizon.
Marissa was out with her friends tonight, partying and having fun, completely unaware of what he was up to, of what he was planning.
Dante prided himself in being able to keep certain aspects of his life under wraps. It came with being involved in the things he is, the life he leads, the kinks he engages in.
It could also stem from having suppressed certain sides of him growing up to avoid criticism and abuse. Maybe.
Either way, he was actually a good liar, or, at the very least, good at hiding the truth even if he didn't particularly enjoy it.
Like currently, when he had told Marissa he was knee-deep in projects for some event and, therefore, had to work overtime and wouldn't be available as often as she wished for him to be.
He told her, also, he didn't want her to feel neglected or abandoned, but that he knew he was going to be in no mood for visits or play sessions and would likely not even answer texts for a while.
Dante had spotted the way she tried arguing, pouting, getting a bratty attitude, only for him to shut it down and tell her directly, eye-to-eye "This is not an invitation for you to be a brat and defy me. I'm telling you how it is. I'm gonna be stressed and overworked and don't want to risk you catching me in a bad mood and me hurting you."
Was it harsh? Yes. Did it make him feel like shit? Also yes. But, this time, a lie was necessary. It'd be worth it. Just to see the smile on her face.
That's the only thought in his mind as the driver comes back out of the shop and extends the electronic signature device to him, letting Dante sign for the delivery.
-
May 15th, 2024
"Have the fit you wanna have, princess, but get dressed and get in the fucking car." Dante scolds her as he glares at her from the other side of the threshold of her apartment.
Sure, he knew Marissa would be a brat, but what did she expect? He did warn her he'd be stressed and busy, so why was she now denying going out with him on her birthday?
"No." Marissa retorts and crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. "You don't get to ignore my texts for three days and now suddenly message me to get dressed and that you're taking me out on my birthday without even having texted me 'Happy Birthday' or 'Good morning'."
Dante takes a deep breath to steel himself and sighs. "Marissa, for all that is Holy-" He begins, squeezing his gloved hands into fists. "Either you get dressed and come down to the fucking car so I can show you your stupid fucking birthday gifts, or I will toss you over my shoulder and take you as you are right now." He warns and gestures at her lounging outfit.
"I'd like to see you try." Marissa replies with a bite to her voice, already on her to slamming the door shut in his face. Dante stops her by slamming his foot between the door and the doorjamb.
"Now you listen here, you brat-" He warns as he pushes the door open and wraps his arms around the shorter girl, sliding his fingers amidst her pretty brown hair, his fingertips gripping her head and holding it in place.
Marissa tries fighting him, squirming, only for him to pin her against the wall and quench her needy thirst by pressing his thigh between her own, his arm around her back pulling her down and rocking her back and forth against the black material of his slacks.
She mews so prettily, even when she's angry at him... especially when she's angry at him.
"Is this what you need? To have me fuck the attitude out of you, hm? On your own birthday?" He taunts as he looks her in the eye, his nose brushing against her cheek and his lips already kissing up her jaw and wetting her skin.
"Shut up-" Marissa retorts, still holding onto her bratty fit, but slowly losing her bravado as he rocks her back and forth against his thigh, her toes barely catching a perch on the floor of her apartment, sometimes grazing his polished dress shoes.
"I would've thought a little brat like you would want me to treat her all nice, take her out to an expensive dinner, and present her with a fortune worth of gifts..." He teases and chuckles.
"But no... All you want is me, isn't it, sweet thing? All you need is your Sir, isn't it?" He adds as he carefully probes his tongue into her mouth, feeling her suck on it, while his hands grab her around the hip and pull her close.
Marissa whines into his mouth, sucking and licking his tongue, feeling the taste of him, one she hasn't had the ability to get in 10 days, and has missed dearly.
Pulling back from the kiss, he resumes talking to her, nearly goading her. "You could behave, you know? You could... let me take you out like I planned... You know how much it cost me to reserve a table for us at that one restaurant you always talk about wanting to go?" He complains as he kisses her jaw and keeps rocking her cunt against his thigh.
"God damn you, sweet thing," Dante grunts as he undoes his belt with one hand, tugging down his dress pants, and fishing out his already hardening cock. "I love how much of a brat you are, but you also annoy the crap out of me," He says, his tone fully affectionate as he takes her hand and wraps it around his length.
"Is this what you wanted? This cock?" He taunts before pulling her underwear aside and rubbing his fingers down her slit, and back up, his fingertips rubbing against her clit. "These fingers? Me taking care of your pretty cunny, huh? Because she can't resist me, can she?"
Marissa nods and bucks her hips against his hand, causing a rumble of a laugh to rise in his chest. Her sounds of pleasure are soft and needy as her hands grab onto the material of his blazer, one he tailor-made for himself.
"God, you know how long I spent on your gift? And all you wanted was my cock buried inside you?" He asks her as he leans his forehead against hers, his fingertips still fanning over her clit, rubbing and carefully twisting it between two fingers.
"What is it...?" His brat ends up asking through frustrated and needy sounds of pleasure, causing Dante to chuckle again.
"I sewed you a whole closet worth of pieces..." He murmurs and closes his eyes as she fists his cock a bit faster, hissing through clenched teeth. "Dresses, skirts, tops, pretty little panties that I plan on ripping off you..." He murmurs in her ear before biting her earlobe.
"Anything you could ever want, I sewed it for you, and any other time you find something you like, I'll sew it too..." He tells her as he licks a stripe up her neck before kissing her again.
for @goose-dollies :) sorry I got lazy at the end, idk
i totally agree!! she loves seeing you all dressed up and will absolutely help you into it (and don't mind when her pretty fingers caress down your sides, massaging your pussy through the tight fabric!)
Aggressively making out with each other - it doesn't matter who's on top, just that it's messy. She's grabbing your face to keep her mouth on yours, and you're clumsily grabbing at her thighs and ass to grind against each other without pause. UGHHH SHE HAS MY HEART!!!
Dolly (bunny ears stay on) sitting on your lap, her tits right in front of your face as you feel up her body, from her thighs, ass, waist, to her tits
-🌀
Dolly sitting in your lap and pulling your hair to make you look up at her, kissing and licking you—holding you still while she makes out with you, not even being so kind as to let you return the kisses (she can be so cruel sometimes...) (Dolly teaching virgin! homeowner how to kiss?? guiding you on how to touch her?)
She'd be the type, and this is wishful thinking, to giggle at you when you don't know where to touch, grabbing your hands to make you hold her hips. After some more kisses, biting your bottom lip with her teeth, she snickers and encourages you to not just sit pretty, encouraging you to explore and to touch her. She breaks so pretty above you when your fingers dig into her ass or move up, thumbs brushing over her clothed nipples...
I realized I haven’t had any smutty blurbs for Dolly so what I have in mind rn is she’d ABSOLUTELY talk you through it. She’ll talk you through it as you try to pleasure her and for how good she feels on you and the bunny ears absolutely stays on in bed 😈
If we’re talking about the classic “going at it like rabbits” phrase, I think Dolly has a high sex drive and can go on for ROUNDS. On kinkier nights she’ll roleplay as a professor while you’re her naughty student
-🌀
Dolly is so cute, and considering she not only has an adorable accent but is also in THE bunny outfit, i'm actually so surprised she's not more popular! i'm as surprised as i am upset about it<//3
She loves digging her fingers in your hair, moaning and fondling her own tits while perched on top of her desk. You, kneeling on the floor, hands on her soft, freckled thighs while sucking on her pulsing clit. The way she bites her glossy lips, the way her glasses sit on the tip of her nose —it's positively charming. The hand on your head shifts, grip tightening as she guides you up and down, bucking her hips against your eager mouth - her moans ringing through the room.
When it's said that she lasts a while, she lasts a WHILE! Good luck trying to tire her out; it never takes long for her to bounce back!
words: 2.6k~
cw: mafia and other matters of the sort (drugs, alcohol, gambling, etc.), smut smut smut, piv (unprotected), the worst relationship in the world (but fr this time), toxicity, hate, enemies to fuck buddies, BIGGGG age gap (25&50)
a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.
Fates cross and the two worst people to have ever laid foot in New York City are suddenly tangled in each other's webs...
(Very inspired by Animals by Maroon 5)
The social club looked like it could be taken out straight from the 1920s: wood panneling all over the walls, leather chairs, sofas and armchairs....
A large bar counter with two impeccably dressed bartenders behind them, in suits and bowties, preparing cocktails and drinks poured nearly straight from the expensive thousand-dollars-worth liquor bottles.
A jazz band playing in the corner stage, a few blackjack and roulette tables in the further back of the room, elite only, away from prying eyes.
The bar takes cards, for everything else, it's live cash or checks. And people make sure to play like they intend on losing their entire fortune. It's more fun that way.
Champagne coupes, whiskey tumblers, cigars aplenty... Maybe even a bit of cocaine, for the more adventurous ones... And, of course, escorts galore.
Men in suits lounging all around, young women in slinky dresses perching on their knees, greedy male hands smoothing over the smalls of their backs, the crooks of their waists, around the soft skin of their thighs, their arms, their necks, their hair.
Protection details and henchmen were left at the door, like dogs tied on a pole outside the bodega in the corner. Guns and knives are checked with the bags and coats. Neutral territory, they call it.
Incardo Lozada Buffonge sits in a leather couch in the corner, a pretty blonde woman sitting on his lap. She's foreign, speaks little English, smiles too much, fidgets with his tie and lets him grope her to his will.
His dark hair is slicked back, his suit, Armani, white on white, polished shoes reflecting the yellow tones of the vintage lamps and candelabras that light the space in warm tones.
To his right, Amarion Bindo Gerardo, his second-in-command, black on black, matching the boss, but the complete opposite of him. They talk in hushed whispers, drinking and looking around, taking note of adversaries, rivals, acquaintances and the rare ally.
The room isn't too full, but the event is still a real who's who of the underground business. Mob bosses, corrupt politicians, military leaders and law agents, cartel bosses, Yakuza, Triad, Bratva... Anyone that has stakes in the crime syndicates of New York City is present.
Incardo's eyes find their way across the room to the blackjack table. From where he's sitting, he can see her from the side. Sitting dead center, across from the card dealer, arms resting on the edge, holding her set of cards.
Long, sleek brown hair, tied back into a half-up, half-down hairstyle, long slender arms, longer slender legs, a tan that is, in no way, artificial, wearing an off-white dress, corsetted up top but loose around the legs, with a slit that gives a tantalizing view of her thigh.
She's young. He wouldn't put her a day over 25. And she's beautiful. Beautiful enough for him to want. Same with any other young, beautiful woman he sets his eyes on. Good for a night or two and never again.
But she's not like the escorts around the room, which are free for use by any of the men who want them. No, that woman... She carries he sophistication of a woman who was raised with money and not meant to entertain the men around her, like the others, poor things, much akin to a pig in a dress.
She's in the big boy leagues. If nothing else, he could tell from her outfit, a dress that has to have cost thousands of dollars, gold jewelry and make-up a plenty... But there's also the fact she has her own advisor standing behind her, one he recognized from many of these events in the past, though the name escapes him.
"That one-" Incardo murmurs and uses his chin to gesture toward her vaguely, bringing his glass of red wine up to his mouth.
Amarion glances over to the woman Incardo pointed out. "That's... Tony DeLuca's daughter, I believe."
"Ah." Incardo tuts in acknowledgment and nods his head. "Sure doesn't look it."
"Takes after her mother." Amarion replies as he looks between the brunette and Incardo. "Not a concern for us. Have no business to conduct with them. She's just here representing her old man."
"Hm..." Incardo murmurs and nods, pondering the sight of the pretty woman that kept playing Blackjack with the men around her. Japanese on one side, Russian on the other, and another Italian, from a rival family, further down the table.
He noticed how her eyes, surrounded by sparkly make-up, green and bright, shifty and vixen-like moved about the table, noting everyone's expressions, noting the dealer's movements... Watched everyone receive their new cards.
And then she suddenly bets big, pushing her own pile of chips forward, straightening her back, her eyes catching the other men's... None of them backed out. They never did...
So, as they flipped the cards over and she showed her hand, the men around the table immediately groaned and 'tsked'. "Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." She announced. "Better luck next time, ah?" She teased them and smiled broadly.
Then, she got up and leaned forward, wrapping her slender arms around the stacks of chips and bringing them toward her seat, a satisfied, smug smirk on her plump, shiny lips.
She turned to her consigliere, an older man with grey hair that he'd seen accompany her father and her brothers to events like this before, and gestured vaguely for him to keep her chips.
Then, she slipped out of her stool and crossed the room toward the bar. Incardo saw his opportunity in it. He kept looking at her, eyes locked on her, her body, her smooth skin, her polished red-bottom heels...
Once she turned away from the bar with a drink in hand, he was surprised to find her with a couple of lowball glasses with a yellow-ish liquid in it. Amaretto, most likely, if he knew his Italian alcohol well.
She returned to her consigliere and offered one of the drinks to him, who gave her an almost paternal look, as if implying 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'. She returned an impish smile, which caused the man to sigh and take it, before thanking her with a reverential nod of his head.
The consigliere's brown eyes then slid over to Incardo, finding him sitting and staring at them. At her. Leaning his head down, he spoke softly to the young mafia princess and she turned to look over her bare shoulder at him.
She raised her drink in an act of greeting and cheers, from a distance, and he returned the gesture with his own glass of wine. He watched her take a sip of her drink, eyes still locked on him, from the corner of her eye.
After he watched her take her drink, Incardo glanced at the blonde currently on his lap and waved her off. And then, with his newly freed hand he beckoned the young DeLuca girl closer.
The brunette nodded and approached, coming to stand across from him, her pointy louboutin pumps barely an inch away from his own polished dress shoes.
He sits with his thighs parted in a position of pure and absolute power, a smirk on his lips, tugging his left corner upward as he gives a once over, pleased that the pretty thing is submissive enough to come when called, like a good pup.
Incardo raises his hand, presenting the back of it and his fingers to her, a silent demand for her to show reverence and respect. 'Kiss my hand, little one, show everyone that although you're pretending to be a big girl, you're playing second fiddle to us all, especially me'.
Her green hued eyes slide down from his face, across his arm and down to the hand he was presenting to him. A thick gold ring with a large octagon cut purple musgravite embedded in the middle.
She recognized it for what it was. Nothing but a stupid test, a ball measuring contest, if you will, trying to see who had the biggest pair. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel all eyes on the two of them. And, oh, Gianna was about to make him look bad.
She handed her drink over to her consigliere, then, took Incardo's hand carefully with both of hers, with all the reverence in the world as she raised it toward her mouth, her eyes locked on his brown ones, eyebrows set down over her eyelids, intense and bold...
But then, before his hand was even within range to kiss his ring, she lifted it, like she was about to perform a little twirl for him under his outstretched arm, and used it as a crutch to sit down beside him, leaning back on the couch, crossing her legs, her foot brushing against one of his pant legs.
Everyone else also watching seems to freeze in shock, the room having suddenly gone silent to witness the power play performed by her, happening live before them.
Incardo watched her take her seat boldly, without so much as a greeting, let alone an invitation, then, the corner of his lip rose higher, a sadistic smirk took over his mouth and he licked his lips, amused by the little girl beside him.
Incardo waves off his second-in-command from the armchair beside them, a silent dismissal, to be alone with her... Her consigliere also makes himself scarce, but not before returning her drink glass to her. That drives everyone else in the room to go back to their previous conversations.
"You're either bold or stupid, Ms. DeLuca." The man tells her, murmuring near her ear, an arm already snaking to wrap around the small of her back, coming to rest on the side of her waist, already digging in.
Gianna leans into him and dips her head to the side, nearly setting it on his shoulder, so she can look him in the eyes properly. "Not stupid in any way, I guarantee you, Mr. Lozada." She murmurs in reply, eyes sparkling in the low light, as she takes a sip of her amaretto sour.
"I know... Saw that little play of yours in the blackjack table... Counting cards is illegal, don't you know?" He teases her, almost like he's poking about in her mind, trying to see what makes her tick, what might embarrass her or upset her, and give him control.
"I wasn't counting cards... I'm just very observant... and good at guessing." Gianna lies as she looks right into his eyes, not even flinching or trembling or hesitating, a smug smirk on her plump lips.
"Just like I guessed you'd appreciate me not being a little sheep for you." She slid her free hand over his thigh, before she slid it up over his forearm, down his wrist, and onto his hand, her perfectly-manicured fingernail grazing his musgravite ring.
"So you're just a gambler, are you, doll?" Incardo teases, his hand sliding down from her waist, grazing her hip and onto her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the slit in the cream-colored skirt of her dress.
"Could say that..." Gianna murmurs as she takes a sip of her drink again, biting the straw with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"How about a wager then, just the two of us?" Incardo teases her, his fingers digging onto the skin of her thigh, causing her to shiver ever so slightly.
"What would this wager of yours..." She replies as she rolls over toward him ever so slightly, her leg crossing over his thigh, wrapped around him like a snake coiling around its prey, her heeled foot rubbing against the inside of his white suit leg. "entail exactly?"
Incardo swallowed down the last sip of his red wine while pulling the young woman closer to his robust chest, her breasts pressing against the side panel of his blazer as he squeezes her closer.
"Just a moment of your time... I'd like to prove how stupid I can make a pretty, young thing like you feel and act." He taunts her, brown eyes locked on her beautiful green ones.
"Oh... Mr. Lozada..." She teases. "No man can make me stupid... But you're welcome to try... It'll be a pleasure to see you fail." She chuckles.
She was bold, confident, maybe too much so. Perhaps it was hubris from her young age, and lack of experience, Incardo was sure of.
But the smug smirk on her lips and the certainty on her voice was irresistible... especially when he knew he could have her mewl and croon under his touch whenever he wanted to.
"I never fail at anything, doll." He murmurs in reply.
"Guess you're going to start now."
"It's almost... adorable how sure you are of that, doll... I'll let you continue being delusional, it suits you..."
Gianna's plump lips simply upturned into an bold, broad smile, flashing him her pearly whites, her canines a bit too pointy... There was a mischievous glint in her green eyes... Like a cat that ate the canary.
Then, she untangled herself from his embrace and got up, but not before purposefully and slowly spilling her drink all the way down the front of his 3-piece suit, staining it with the bright yellow liquid.
He didn't react, he tried not to, at least, though his eyes told her directly that she was going to be taught a lesson sooner rather than later...
But she purposefully kissed the air at him and then turned and strutted off, disappearing beyond the doors leading to the large penthouse balcony outside.
And, for the first time in his life, Incardo got up from his seat and gave chase.
That's how they ended up tangled in each other. Each other's web, each other's arms, each other's beds.
As the sun set outside, bathing the balcony in hues of orange, shining off her dress, off her make-up, off their polished shoes...
Her legs hooked on each of his forearms, spread as wide as possible to allow his hip to fit between them, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers digging into his scalp amidst his long black hair...
She moaned and whined, her head rubbing back on the ivy-covered trellis wall that decorated the patio, her back definitely getting marks of the diamond-shaped wooden trellis behind her.
His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, squeezing and holding her up in his arms, his dick bullying into her slick, greedy cunt with each snap of his hips.
Incardo was still perfectly composed, his tie in place, his vest buttoned, although the blazer wasn't, his pants still fastened by the belt around his hip...
Were it not for the way he was grunting and huffing from a mix of pleasure and the mix of stamina + physical strength to continue holding her, nobody would guess he was even having primal sex with a girl half his age.
Meanwhile, he was definitely making a mess of her, Gianna's hair was wild, her lips parted, her eyes heavy and hooded, her dress rolled up as far as can go, her long, tan legs fully on display for anyone who looked their way...
But people in this world knew better than to pry.
So what if the 25-year-old daughter of Tony DeLuca, the biggest mobster in Jersey was currently being fucked silly by the 50-year-old boss of the empire left behind after Adalardo Dakota Buffonge was murdered?
So what if, before then, she proceeded to emasculate him in front of his peers by refusing to greet him with respect, and by spilling a drink down the front of his suit?
So what if, from here on out, he starts to play with her and her family's business, until she agrees to play nice for him and be the little doll, the little toy, he wants to play with?
So what if, no matter how much he tries, she never does become what he wants?
words: 1.2k~
cw: none. smut smut smut. piv, oral (m!receiving), tit sucking? that's about it.
a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.
The two times Onyx Theodore Diamants couldn’t keep his hands off Kathleen Mary Moore… And the one time she couldn’t.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU, HUH?!” Kathleen’s voice reverberates past the curtain. “HUH? THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU?”
“But I-”
“No buts! WHAT. DID. I. TELL. YOU?!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Now stop fucking bothering him! Does he look lucid to you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then why are you insisting?”
“I just-”
“No, don’t even tell me, I don’t care. You’re going back to the lobby.”
“Ma’am, please, wait.. Owowowow-”
Throwing the curtain open aggressively, she steps out of the patient’s room, dragging a man twice her size by the ear. It’s very obviously an SAS officer, clad in full tactical gear, vest sporting the British flag and all…
“Oh, hi, Mr. Diamants.” She greets Onyx casually as they walk past him, Kathleen tugging the soldier toward the exit, who hunches over as she keeps pulling him by the ear, protesting in pain.
Once they’re reaching the doors leading out of the A&E, she whistles loudly, drawing the attention of two military police officers nearby. “He’s banned for the next 24 hours. Do NOT let him back inside the fuckin’ A&E unless he himself is dying. Clear?!”
“Copy that, Captain Moore!” One of the MP officers calls out to her as she lets go of the SAS officer. Then, she turns and marches back inside the A&E, stopping by a handwashing station to clean them.
Onyx approaches her from behind and places a hand on the small of her back, almost urgently so, leaning over her shoulder to speak in her ear.
“Need you to come with me.” He murmurs in her ear, his tone soft before he pushes her away from the sink and toward the double doors to another hallway.
“I’m not on break, Théo…” She whispers.
“It doesn’t matter… Need you.” He tells her as soon as they pass the doors.
Kathleen looks back at him over her shoulder with a smirk on her lips and an intrigued look in her eyes.
The look in Onyx’s brown ones, full of fire and desire, almost desperately so, tell her exactly what he wants.
“Really? Because I was yelling at someone?” She teases him.
Onyx grunts softly and nods. Kathleen shakes her head, amused, then captures his hand from the small of her back, pulling him with her down the hall.
By the time she notices, Onyx has her pressed against a shelf in a storage room. Her scrub trousers and underwear are around her ankles, his left hand covering her mouth, his right under her top to grope her tits while he ruts his cock desperately into her slick cunt.
-
Having spent most of the night going from one side to the other of the room, hanging off Onyx’s arm as he made the rounds and introduced her to everyone and vice-versa, Kathleen was tired.
She glances at him from the group of women she was currently mingling with, wholeheartedly pretending to be interested in the boring conversations they were having, but her eyes trying to signal that she wanted to go.
Excusing herself once she caught his eye, she approached him, hips swaying slowly as she approached him across the marble floors of the room. “Théo…” She murmurs into his ear once she carefully takes hold of his arm, perching herself onto him.
Her breasts brush against his bicep as they stand side-by-side, the other men in the group unavoidadly glancing at the shape of her body in the red gown that highlights every curve of hers.
“Oui, ma louloute?” He asks her, leaning down to listen to her better, turning his face toward her ever so slightly, but keeping an eye on the other men through the corner of his eye.
“I’m tired… Wanna go home,” She murmurs in his ear, a soft wisp of a voice, her brown eyes locked on his.
Onyx didn’t need to be told twice. He tells her to go collect her bag and coat from her seat at the table and he’ll meet her by the door.
Once they enter the limo, he wraps his arm around the small of her back, leaning into her and wrapping a hand around her thigh, lips brushing the shell of her ear, before dipping down to her jaw, and her neck.
“You look so good in red, ma foi…” He whispers in her ear. “I want to take that off you and get my hands on you…”
“Meu amor…” She returns and glances up front at the driver whose eyes are focused on the road.
Onyx catches her nervous glance at the driver, then presses the button in the panel beside him, causing the partition to slide closed, blocking his view. Then, Onyx’s mouth dove in to catch Kathy’s.
Should the driver have reminded them that there’s a security camera in the back of the limo that recorded the way Onyx lifted her dress to pool around her waist, pulled both of her large breasts out of her cleavage, and sat her on his cock, making her rock on it as he greedily sucked her nipples? Probably.
-
Sure, Kathleen knew that Onyx had been in the Army. Hell, he had been Special Forces of all things… But it’s one thing to know it, it’s another thing to see it.
It’s on a day when a couple of the guys in his private security/military company weren’t available for a job that he decides to cover for them.
He’s tired by the end of it, rightfully so… So he doesn’t even change before coming home, figuring he could just take a shower and drop straight into bed when he does… Kathleen would be home by then too, also tired from a 12-hour-shift… She’d definitely want sleep too…
But when he walks in the door… In full tactical gear, kevlar on, a pair of sunglasses hanging from his collar, weapons and holsters still tied to his thighs and armor…
It’s like something shifts in the room. Kathleen, who had been lounging on the couch, already in her pajamas, is suddenly moving toward him, eyes wide, crazied, lips parted and nearly glistening with saliva.
“I know… Don’t worry, I’ll lock the guns away in the safe before we go sleep…” Onyx tells her as he watches her approach, anticipating that she’d lecture him on how unsafe it was for him to bring all of this home…
But then she pulls him in by his vest and plants her lips on his, in a kiss unlike any she’s given him before… Wet and desperate and needy.
And after she pulled back, he barely had time to give her a look of ‘What’s up with you?’ before she was dropping on her knees in front of him.
Was he expecting to have his woman unstrap each and every piece of gear from his body with nothing but reverence and lingering touches like she was preparing to help bathe a deity? No. Was he prepared to have her worship every inch of him for the next hour, or to watch her as she swallowed his cock and drooled around it, eyes glistening and unfocused? Also no. But it happened.
