Short Story One-shots (gxg)

Shipment Pt. 2

A/N: Haven't updated in forever so sorry
"Don't leave." That simple, but desperate begging made an ache I didn't know I had throb sorely.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, knowing I had places to be, but this insatiable hunger for this woman almost drove me mad.
"Fuck," I muttered, striding over to her desk to see her grinning triumphantly, spreading herself out across her imported mahogany desk that would soon be removed of all clutter and stained.
"Slut." I spat, shoving her shoulders hard downward. At first, she was taken aback by this rough play, but soon after, her face slipped into a malicious grin. I positioned myself between her legs, feeling them circum around me instinctively. "That's right, I'm your dirty slut," she paused, those devilish eyes meeting mine. "Now fuck me like one."
I harshly grabbed onto her lower hips, and pulled her toward me; scraping my nails along her outer thighs. She uttered a low growl, tilting her head back. I latched onto her neck, pinpointing the place where her jugular and collarbone connected. I ascended a wet, eager tongue all the way to her ear, nibbling on her lobe. She held my shoulders and groaned. I hummed pleasantly, "I could just sit here all day teasing you, and I'd still get off. Just by watching you squirm." Emphasizing the last word, I pressed a fingertip to her clit, slowly rubbing circles. Her back arched and she groaned once but this time not collapsing into me, but almost, resisting.
"Mmph, tease me all you like," she taunted in my ear, "But until you get me off, you're not leaving." Her hand slipped to a remote lying harmlessly on the desk and made a slight beep as a unseen locking mechanism enclosed me inside her office.
Once done, she chucked the remote across the room, it disappearing behind those creaky leather chairs. She met my eyes, "Now fuck me like a good mistress should."
Something about that sentence, those combinations of words, the reverse-psychology of it all if you will, maybe even irony, set me off. I yanked the skirt from her thin waist, leaving it to fall on the floor in a leather heap, and pinned her to her own desk. I met her eyes once more, now noticing the lustrous frown that crossed my features, and hiked her leg up over my right shoulder. "Fuck you like the slut you are? I can do that." I spat through gritted teeth and plunged three digits into her at once. She screamed, pain and pleasure in the mix, and bucked onto me, her juices already flowing past my knuckles. "So bad, I'm such a bad girl," She unconsciously shamed herself as I added another finger, ravenously dipping in and out of her. Within moments she clenched around me, arching her spine upwards, quite literally screaming mistress harder over and over. After she recovered I wiped my hand on a tissue pulled from a box on a bookshelf and marveled as she undid the damage I'd done to her.
Patting her bun back into place and buttoning her skirt back on, she cleared her throat and stated "Our business was done."
I left that warehouse-disguised factory feeling a mix of shame, pity, and longing for that woman. Longing. Can you believe it.
I shoved my hands hard into my jacket, trudging down the aging side walk and wondered if I could call and set up an appointment sometime.