Bachelor's Girl

1 - Jon

1 -Jon

"Jon," she moaned.

I resumed kissing and biting the soft spots on her neck, taking her moan as an encouragement. Her hands traced up my forearm to my neck, inviting my lips towards her oversize D breasts.

I never turned down an invitation.

Melissa was perched on my lap, her legs on either side of me and her back pressed against the back of my desk. Her body radiated a scent of roses, which was a huge turn on. I gripped her buttcheeks and squeezed them tightly, earning another moan. She brought herself to my neck and licked it all the way up to my ear, tightening every single muscle in my body.

I took a sharp breath before capturing her bright red lips with mine. Our tongues played with each other like little children who had just gotten to the playground. Melissa's hands went to my buttons and began undoing them faster than I've ever done. I should more lessons from her.

She seemed much more experienced.

My hands grazed over her bare thighs, and then travelled all the underneath her skirt to her thong. Melissa always wore lingerie--something I gifted all my girlfriends. It made a faster impression than a date.

As my fingers reached to yank her skirt and thong off, someone knocked on my cabin door.

"Who?" I called out, breathlessly.

Melissa hungrily attacked my lips again, not giving me a chance to say anything else.

No complaints from my side.

"It's Kyra. Mr. Vanderbilt, the clients' are here to see you" came the answer.

Melissa ran her hands over my bare torso, pushing her head down to give my abs a good time. Her lips and tongue were magical when it came to giving a guy pleasure. She was making her way down to the best part.

"Give me ten," I yelled to Kyra. The clients could wait.

After all, they needed me, not vice versa.

"Mr. Vanderbilt, trust me, you don't have much time," Kyra said from the other side. Why does she sound afraid? Unless there was a tsunami or a nuclear war warning, she better leave me alone.

"Ten minutes, I said," I repeated. Melissa was making me hard. Physically. Kyra was making everything hard. Mentally. I mean, as my trusted legal assistant, she knew about my little playground time. She was supposed to cover for me rather than nag me.

"Sir, your--" Kyra's words cut short as the door flung open.

I heard a faint "where is he?" before my cabin door opened wide.

A short, stout man in his mid-fifties stepped into my line of vision. He gaped at me before his gaze lowered to my current girlfriend who was admiring my lower view.

Melissa and I remained frozen in our spots.

This man was none other than my father.

With a look of utter disappointment and sheer disgust, he left the room. Behind him, the long black haired paralegal of mine stood with a bored look.

"The clients were apparently referred by your father," she explained. "What would you like me to tell them?"

I shot her a typical annoyed look of mine at her, which she understood as a sign to whisk away. Quickly re-doing my shirt's buttons, I stood up running a hand through my hair, knowing how badly I had screwed up in front of my father. This man wasn't going to let this go so easily. Not because he hated my playboy skills, but because the last time I promised I wouldn't screw around with my colleagues. To a degree, I hadn't. Kyra was the only female in the office I hadn't even laid a single hand on.