Wet

“In some ways, watching a woman like you dress is even better than watching you undress.”

Lana’s head whipped around to the open doorway of her private room. Stark was leaning in it with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face as if he belonged there. She was lacing the thin strap to her left sandal in a criss-cross pattern up her shin. She could have used the footstool under the vanity, but she’d opted to lift her foot onto the edge of her chair, forcing the bottom of her short, white dress to gather around her hips.

The dress had a tapered hemline that was longer on one side. Her supple thighs shimmered in the bedroom lamplight. Her skin was an enticing shade somewhere between copper and melted butter. Stark hardly blinked, and she could see his Adam’s apple bob every time her bare pussy flashed. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He should have been in his own room on the other side of the suite, respecting his boss’s privacy.

It was the final night of the four day conference. The location was a tropical resort, which had given Lana and Stark a much more relaxed environment to work in. Café meetings overlooking white sand beaches and the comfort of a five star hotel suite made all the last minute details they had to work through sail along with barely a stressful moment.

In fact, the greatest stress of the conference so far might have been the foot massage Stark had given Lana the previous evening, after several hours working out the final touches on Stark’s presentation. His hands were large and confident, and the way he’d touched her feet and ankles had put Lana in a zone of relaxation that was completely unprofessional. By the time he’d finished, she realized her pussy was wet and aching, and she’d nearly staggered back to her room.

Now Lana’s spine stiffened and she cocked her head to look at him with haughty disdain, but she didn’t move to cover herself. After a moment, she slowly continued wrapping the strap around her leg. If he was going to be so bold as to invade his own boss’s privacy this way, then she could damn well make him suffer a little before sending him off to join the ranks of the unemployed. She hadn’t worked so hard as a minority businesswoman to build a successful company only to have her cockiest employee barge into her room and gaze at her like some kind of lap dancer.

“Stark, how long have you worked for me?” she asked.

“Not so long you couldn’t fire me right now,” he suggested calmly. His arms looked thick and solid, and his grin conveyed a smug sense of ease that couldn’t have been much more annoying.

“You think I wouldn’t fire you thirty minutes before you address the entire conference?”

“Oh, I know you would. But you won’t.”

He walked into the room and sat on the edge of her bed. He was wearing loose linen trousers and a plain, silk jersey. Casual, but professional enough under the circumstances. She followed his movement and felt his eyes burn up the shimmering flesh of her raised thigh. She was painfully aware of the way her hairless pussy was exposed in all its pouting glory, but she felt the heat of defiance flush through her lips.

“Oh really,” she said, skeptically. “And why is that?”

“Same reason you treat me like one of your unpaid, college interns back at the office,” he said, his hand drifting toward the crotch of his trousers. “Calling me into your office to look over plans I’ve already given you notes on. Asking me to fetch you coffee and tea when you know I’m working under deadlines. Same reason you always find some excuse for me to lean over your desk where my head is full of your perfume and that soft, creamy valley between your improbable tits is all I can see.”

“You’re fired,” she said. She almost sounded convincing except for the noticeable tremor in her voice. “Just as soon as you’re finished with your presentation.”

“Good. That means you’re not officially my boss anymore.”

“Ha! Like you ever take anyone’s orders but your own,” she spat.

In another minute he’d be able to see how wet her pussy was threatening to become. The hand resting over his crotch gave his package a lazy squeeze. Her eyes drifted toward his hand despite her knowing how easily he could follow her gaze. She could feel curiosity prickling over the surface of her dusky skin.

“Know what I think?” he asked, openly staring at her pussy.

She let her raised thigh lean out to the side, revealing more of herself in a taunting act of defiance. “No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Stark half chuckled and half groaned as his eyes lit up. “I think deep down, you really don’t like giving orders at all. I think you’re tired of having to be tougher than you feel all the time, but you keep doing it because you’re good at it, and because now your company is too successful to turn back…so you play your role as reigning queen.”

Lana took a moment to absorb what he said, then slowly put her foot back on the floor and stood up. The wedge sandals were just high enough to set off the fluid musculature of her legs without being difficult to walk in. She felt young and vital, even powerful, and yet Stark was making her knees feel like rubber. Her nipples made conspicuous points in the plunging halter of the dress, a stark contrast against her fine skin.

“You’re history, Stark. Ancient history. Like the rest of the fucking Neanderthals,” she told him as sweetly as if she were offering tea.

He watched her hungrily, openly fondling his cock through his trousers. He was getting hard, and the prodigious shape of his erection was growing clearer and clearer under the fabric. Lana felt heat simmering under her skin as she followed the growth of his arousal with barely concealed anticipation.

“The day you first interviewed me I was struck by how beautiful your eyes are, but I’ve never seen them look as beautiful as they are right now,” he said, his tone skirting dangerously close to a groan.

“You,” she nearly fumed, “…stop touching…cock.” She realized she was biting her bottom lip as the head of his cock became a clear shape in the drape of his trousers. “We…conference…fifteen minutes.”

“We better find you a pair of panties to wear, then, shouldn’t we? You can’t go to a business function in slutwear like that without them.” His tone was measured and calm, as if he’d been talking about whatever was going to be on the dessert menu.

The spinning in Lana’s head slowed down enough to connect with the reality of having to walk into the teeming conference. She realized how good she felt without panties. The burning flush in her core hit her with a warm glow of delirium she didn’t want to deny, but she knew he was right.

Stark got up and walked to her bureau, a faint scent of almonds reaching her senses as he passed. He pulled open her top drawer and rummaged through it, taking his time to handle the various styles and colors. He held two or three pair up with both hands, trying to judge how they’d look on her body. He settled on a simple yet scant black thong.

“No,” she complained. “Black is going to show right through this dress. Maybe a lighter color would…”

“That’s the whole idea.” He smiled like a kindly professor explaining new concepts to a classroom of bewildered freshmen. “I want to see your ass move when you lead me to our seats.”

“You’re…fucking impossible.” She tried to sneer at him, even as the quiet audacity of his demand felt like a rush of warm air under her dress.

“Come, now…boss. Come get your slutty little thong before I put them in my pocket and keep them until the meeting’s all over.”

“You’re a filthy, arrogant pig, Stark,” she said. “It’s going to be such a pleasure firing you it might even make me…cum.”

She was trying to hiss at him, but the lack of breath in her lungs made it sound more like a whimper. She approached him with a playful swing in her hips, taunting him with a striking vision of what he desired but would never have.

She fixed her eyes on his as she reached for the panties. Just as she was about to take them, Stark snapped his arm upward, holding them out of reach and looping his free arm around her waist at the same time. His large hand scooped under her dress and held her close by the bare sphere of one cheek. He leaned down and took her mouth in a kiss deep enough to wobble her knees, but for all his swaggering arrogance, she could feel a tremor in his arm as he held her.

She felt the entire weight of his long denied desire bearing down on them – like years of dancing around each other from opposite sides of the same bonfire. His tongue swept through her mouth as if it were chasing hers, but she faced him head on.

“Panties, please?” she asked softly after their lips reluctantly parted. “We don’t want to be late.” Against her better judgment, she ground into his burgeoning hard on, privately satisfied to see the dreamy cast glaze over his eyes.

“We just have one little thing to do to get them ready for you, and it’ll go much better if you help me.” His eyes were gleaming with pure mischief.

“Stark, we don’t have time for…”

Before she could finish, Stark’s hand slipped between them to unzip his pants. Lana realized he was naked underneath as he readily flipped out his cock. He was swollen but still flexible. He brazenly gripped her wrist and pushed her hand onto his shaft.

“Stark!” she hissed, even as her hand automatically curled around his thick shaft. He responded with a delirious sigh, as if there was all the time in the world to play games. Lana knew they were in grave danger of being late, and a lot was riding on Stark’s presentation, but his cock swelled to pulsating hardness in her grip. His body heat was nearly singeing her palm as those thousand moments across her desk flashed through her mind.

“We really have to go,” she tried again, the resolve in her voice already weaker, while the stroking motion of her hand along his thickening cock was in direct conflict with her words.

“Then you better make me cum as fast as you can,” he told her in a steady stage whisper.

Stark’s cock was perfectly rigid now. His flesh was practically vibrating in Lana’s fist. She pulled and caressed him with a hot, perfunctory haste that made the petals of her pussy gorge with sensation.

“I’ve a good mind to leave you here just like this and make you take care of this yourself,” she told him, her voice growing husky.

“No you don’t,” he replied softly, steadily, his voice resonant with barely controlled lust. He started pumping himself into her stroking hand with sneering grunts.

“You’re so sure of yourself,” she almost spat. She thumbed the plentiful precum along his thick shaft as she spoke, as if proving his point for him in spite of herself. She hoped he believed at least a little of the impatience she feigned. Maybe it would only make him cum harder. Either way, she was determined to stroke him to the kind of climax that would leave him dizzy all the way through his presentation.

“I’m sure you’re gonna wear my cum in your panties tonight,” he told her in a hoarse whisper.

Lana’s eyes welled and her face flushed. She was hardly aware of squatting down to her haunches and letting him feel her warm breath on the dome of his cock while her fist pumped harder and faster.

“And what if I decide to take your cum in my mouth?” she stated defiantly.

“Because I won’t give it to you that way. Not this time.”

Lana’s hand was sliming Stark’s precum all over his shaft with noisy, slicking fist pumps. She began watching the imposing head, waiting for his cum to burst across her hand and arm.

“But tonight,” he went on, as calmly as seemed possible against his deepening breath. “You’re gonna wear my spunk in those little “fuck me” panties you brought along for – well, whatever reason you brought a thong along on a business trip with…me. And you’re going to feel me all hot and sticky wet pasted to your pussy all night. For yourself as much as for me.”

Lana didn’t fully believe what he wanted her to do, but she already knew she was going to do it as she reached through his fly to cup his balls in her free hand. She kept the other hand pumping him as hard and fast as if they were trying to win a race.

“And why the fuck would I ever do anything as nasty as that?” she half sang, her eyes trained steadily on the fat meat jutting through her fist.

“Because it’s time we stopped fucking around and pretending there’s nothing but work between us,” Stark groaned. “Because we’ve wasted enough time. Oh fuck! Ffffff pump me! Here it comes!”

Lana watched everything go by in a trance: Stark draping her tiny panties over his bursting cockhead just in time to catch his jetting froth – his hand clutching up a fistful of her jet black hair as his body stiffened in release - her hand jacking him with an agile speed she never thought she possessed. She listened to his needy grunts as she watched the fabric of her panties moisten and soak. There was so much cum and little enough of the fabric, and Lana knew her scant thong would be thoroughly saturated by the time he was spent.

She squeezed his shaft, milking him completely. She used the panties to wipe the residual traces of cum from his cock as well as her fingers, then stood up and looked him in the eye, almost confused as to what to do next.

“Put them on…boss,” he said simply.

“You’re…fired. Remember?” Her voice sounded lost in the clouds.

“Oh, right,” Stark smiled. “Put on the panties…Lana.”

She was acutely aware of him watching, leaning against the dresser with his cock still jutting through his zipper as she stepped into the panties and pulled them up her svelte thighs.

Stark’s cum was still warm and viscous. The panties felt thoroughly obscene hugging her flushed pussy and trailing snugly up the cleft between her cheeks. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched her pull them into place and rearrange her dress.

“You do look amazing in that dress,” he said dreamily as he tucked his cock back inside his pants. “And you were right, those panties show through really well. You look like the slut bride of Babylon.”

Lana laughed, feeling five years of tension flowing out of her. “That’ll be the day,” she sputtered.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smile. “That’ll be the day.”

“Well, we’d better…”

Stark pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a driven ferocity that left them both fighting to breathe.

“You better lay on the perfume pretty heavy,” he grinned. One hand slid under her dress and cupped her mound through the wet fabric of her panties, pressing and squeezing her. “Otherwise you’re gonna smell like cum all night and everyone’s gonna know who that pussy belongs to.”

While Lana opened her mouth to make a remark that wouldn’t seem to form, Stark kissed her on the forehead and walked out of the room. She went to the bureau and looked through the choices of perfumes she’d packed for the trip. She picked up her favorite and looked at the bottle for a moment before looking toward the doorway into the central salon where Stark was patiently waiting.

Lana smiled to herself and put the bottle back down without scenting herself. She went out to join Stark. They were running out of time.