smutty midnight musings with @ftmendesthoughts
- He’d never smuggle you into his office, always waltzing in with you on his arm. No-one would dare judge or even look at you. He’d hold his office door open for you, winking as you walked passed him.
- Shawn would get a large cushion from the couch, bringing it to his desk. He’d kick it to under his ridiculously large desk, he’d sit in the big office chair and look you dead in the eye as he unzips his trousers. “you’ve got a lot of work to do love.”
- You’d get down on your knees, looking up at him as he got comfortable, spreading his thighs for you to fit between. You’d stroke his cock, pulling gently, smiling when his jaw slackened a little. He’d regain the icey composure he was famous for as quickly as he’d lost it. He’d raise an eyebrow at you, indicating that the game had begun. He would ignore you, reading his emails, checking his calendar, going about his day. You would try your hardest to make him notice you, make his hand drop to your hair, pulling tightly, make his muscles jump, anything. He’d read his emails, typing answers, occasionally letting his gaze drop to you between his thighs. You know he’d be checking on you, making sure you’re alright while still playing the game. You’d flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock and lick all the way to the head. His thigh muscle would jerk a little, his hand flying to your hair, he’d tighten his hold your hair when you suck on the tip of his cock.
- He never made any sound when you blew him. He barely made any sound when he came buried deep inside you, fingers digging into your waist. He’d look down at you, you’d won the game, and his sharp inhale as he saw you looking up at him through teary lashes would make you attempt to smile around his length. The sight of you, on your knees, essentially worshipping his cock, swollen lips stretched around him caused him to tighten his hold on your hair.
- After he’d come, he’d haul you into his arms, holding you in his lap, letting his fingers run down the length of your arm, he’d look at you so intently that you’d start to blush, which would lead him to trace the blush with his long fingers. He’d slowly let his hands reach your waist. He’d tighten his grip on you in that delicious almost pain but only pleasure way and start grinding your crotch against his.
- The phone would ring, a new appointment needed scheduled. He leaned forward pressing the speaker function. Your back arching into him, your chest pressed to his, the friction of his suit against your pussy not enough. He’d continue grinding your hips down on him even though you tried to resist. You’d bury your face against his neck as he started speaking. His voice rumbling out of his chest as he kept making you grind down on him. Your jaw would drop when he pressed a firm thumb against your clit through your panties. You weren’t allowed to make any sound, or you’d get punished at home, you dig your nails into his arm uncaring of the wrinkles you’d leave on his designer suit. You’d look up into his eyes begging him to let you go, begging him to let you come. He’d smirk, an evil knowing smirk as he pressed harder against your clit. Your mouth would open on a silent plea he’d ignore. He continued talking, slow, deliberate words that you barely registered as your back arched in his arms. You tried grinding down harder on his thigh but he’d shoot you a warning glance, tapping your ass in warning. You’d shake your head, whining into his shoulder as silently as you could.
- Sometimes he’d be working from his penthouse. You’d check up on him few times, always wondering why on earth he wore a suit in his home. Not that you were really complaining. You’d siddle into his lap, telling him he needed a break, he’d frown at you, his hand automatically finding your hips. You’d slowly undress, enjoying the way his pupils dilate the faintest amount. You’d perch yourself on his desk, spreading your thighs and pulling him closer by his tie. You’d kiss him, his fingers tightening on your hips as he’d stand up.
- He’d lie you down on the surface of his desk, his hand trailing up your body and resting against your throat. He’d thrust into you, one fluid motion that always left you breathless. As your lips part on a sigh at the overwhelming fullness of him, his own jaw would drop a little. He’d whisper filthy words, encouraging you, making you blush, coaxing your body to react. “Good girl.” he’d murmur. His hand tightening on your throat, your fingers wrapping around his wrist reflexively. Slow, hard thrusts would slowly drive you to the edge. He’d tease you, make you beg him to please please please make you come.
- You’d be sitting on the bed, watching him as he undressed himself. A pleased smile on his lips because you’d done as he’d said. You were wearing nothing but the diamond earrings he’d gifted you. He’d loosen his tie and throw it over your head. he’d tighten it and then he’d pull you forward by his tie. “Very pretty, darling.” he’d mumble appreciatively. He’d spread you on his bed, tapping your knees, wordlessly asking you to open further. He’d eat you out, nibbling on your clit, lapping up your juices, diving his tongue ruthlessly into your clenching pussy. The five o’clock shadow would tease the sensitive inside of your thighs, you’d moan, mentioning the scruff burns. He’d look up at you, smouldering eyes making your breath hitch. He’d nuzzle his face into your thigh, looking at you, an almost devilish smirk on his lips. You’d grab a hold of his shoulder, trying to find something to anchor you as he ate you out for all you’re worth. His suit jacket would bunch in your hands as you climb higher and higher. You’d relish the way the burn of his light scruff would contrast with the sinful lick of his tongue. Your orgasm would crash down on you, leaving you a panting, burned and bruised mess. Once the orgasm bliss wore off he’d show you the wrinkles in his suit. “now how are you gonna pay me back love? this is custom made.” and you’d be slightly hazy, furrowing your eyebrows in bewilderment. He’d smile at you “on your knees love, open wide.”
- He’d have you on your hands and knees, thrusting into you, panting, pulling on your hair, “beg, love” your arms would be shaking, You’d barely be able to hold yourself up as his cock drags against your g-spot. Your rhythm would falter as you fall onto your forearms, burying your head in the pillow. A harsh slap to your butt would cause a gasp to tear from your throat. You’d look over your shoulder at Shawn, his eyebrow would be raised. “Work for it love.” You’d moan, dropping into the pillow again, which only earned you another stinging slap. “Did I stutter?” He’d press into you, your back arching slightly. His thick cock dragging against your walls causing a moan of his name to tumble from your swollen lips.
- He loved marking you, bruises, hickeys, bite marks, scratches and probably his favourite scruff burns. They way you’d writhe underneath him when his jaw scratched against your thighs was simply heavenly.
- He’d have you up against the large bay window of his penthouse. Your body pressed against the cold glass as he drove into you. “Best view of the city.” he’d smirk as your face contorted when he thrusts into you. Your hands desperately trying to find something to hold onto besides cold glass. The broken moan of his name leaving your mouth so sinful he’d do his utmost to make you rasp the syllables of his name over and over again. He’d bite his lip. He never allowed himself to moan. He’d sigh and pant and growl filthy words into your ear. He’d bite the shell of it gently, slowing his thrusts to a slow deep rhythm. You’d slowly feel your building orgasm drift away. You’d whine against the glass, cut short by a harsh slap to your cheek. “Patience darling.” he’d drawl into your ear. “I have to take my time and enjoy the view.” You knew you’d be in for one, long deliciously frustrating ride.
- he’d make you model the new underwear he gets you. Without fail every single time he’d ask you to model them for him. He’d stand, arms crossed over his chest. An unreadable look on his face. “need a hand?” his eyebrow would raise when your fingers can’t work the knot of your negligé. he’d walk up to you slowly, dangerously and he’d look at you in that silky garment and undo the knot, he’d slide the silk down your arms making sure to caress you. His eyes would never leave yours, his jaw would be set tight, his eyebrows as almost always slightly furrowed. “model for me.“ Sometimes he’d smile a slow deliberate smile, sometimes he’d look at you and murmur “I have brilliant taste.” as he let his knuckles graze your ribs. But sometimes he’d crook his finger, beckoning you towards him. You’d start walking towards him, only to stop when he shakes his head once. You knew what that meant, your mouth watering at the thought. You’d get down on your knees, crawling the last meter separating you from him. You’d start undoing his dress pants when he caught your chin in his large hand, stopping you in her tracks. “tell me you love me.” he’d whisper barely audibly.