Wild Desires {A collection of short stories}

S*x with the Virgin Maid III

I woke up before the sun, my body already on fire.

The sheets were twisted around my legs, damp where I’d rubbed against them in my sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw it again, Vanessa on her knees, Damian’s hand in her hair, the thick slide of his c**k between her red lips, and the way he’d groaned when he came on her skin.

The memory hurt. It burned, and it made me so wet I could feel it on my thighs.

I couldn’t let it happen again. I couldn’t stand in the hallway touching myself while another woman got what I wanted.

I got out of bed and went straight to the mirror. My uniform hung on the back of the door, same as always, but today it wasn’t going to be the same.

I unbuttoned the top two buttons, then the third. The fabric parted, showing the soft swell of my breasts and the edge of my white bra. I rolled the waistband of the skirt once, twice, until it stopped mid-thigh instead of at my knees.

My legs looked longer and smoother, and I turned sideways, cleavage deep, ass rounder, everything on display. I looked and felt like trouble.

My heart hammered, but I didn’t change back. I wanted him to see me, really see me.

While the coffee brewed, I practiced moving, bending over to get a pan from the low cabinet, and reaching high for a plate so my skirt rode up, and every motion made my skin tingle. My n*****s were already hard, pressing against the thin bra. Between my legs I was slick, swollen, and ready just from thinking about his eyes on me.

I heard his footsteps on the stairs, and my stomach flipped.

He walked into the kitchen in a black t-shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders and dark jeans low on his hips. He stopped dead in the doorway.

His gaze moved slowly, down my open neckline, over my breasts, along my bare thighs, then back up. Heat followed everywhere his eyes touched, and I felt it like hands.

“Morning,” I said, trying to sound normal even though my voice came out breathy.

“Morning, Lila.” His voice was rougher than usual, and he didn’t move for a second, just looked. Then he walked to the island and sat, but his eyes never left me.

I set a plate in front of him and leaned forward a little more than I needed to. The dress gaped, and I knew he could see straight down to my bra, maybe even the hard points of my n*****s.

He didn’t pretend not to look.

I sat across from him, closer than yesterday, and our knees almost touched under the island. I took a small bite of toast, then licked a bit of butter from my lip on purpose. His fork paused halfway to his mouth.

“You look different today,” he said finally.

“Do I?” I asked, all innocent. I stretched my arms above my head like I was waking up, arching my back so my chest pushed out. “Just felt like a change.”

His eyes darkened. “Dangerous change.”

I smiled, small and shaky. “Maybe I like danger.”

We ate in silence after that, but it wasn’t quiet. The air felt thick and charged.

Every time I moved, the skirt shifted higher on my thighs, and every time he shifted, his knee brushed mine and stayed there. Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading outward until I had to press my thighs together under the table.

When he finished, he stood and came around to my side to put his plate in the sink. He stopped behind me, close enough that I felt the warmth of his body. His hand rested on the counter beside mine, caging me in without touching.

“You’re playing with fire, little one,” he murmured near my ear.

I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes. “Maybe I want to get burned.”

He inhaled sharply, like my words hit him in the gut. For a second I thought he’d grab me right there, but instead he stepped back, jaw tight.

“I’ve got work,” he said. “Try not to distract me too much.”

But the way he looked at me before he left said he was already distracted.

The rest of the morning I made sure he stayed that way.

I dusted the bookshelves in the hallway outside his office, bending low to reach the bottom ones so my skirt rode up in the back. I knew if he opened the door, he’d see the curve of my ass, the white flash of panties. I vacuumed slowly, swaying my hips more than necessary, and every few minutes I glanced at his door, hoping.

Mid-morning I brought him coffee I hadn’t been asked for. I didn’t knock, just walked in.

He was on a call, leaning back in his big leather chair. He looked up when I entered, eyes narrowing at the tray in my hands, then moving down my body. I set the coffee on his desk and leaned over farther than I had to, giving him a long look down my dress. My breasts nearly spilled out.

He ended the call fast. “Thank you, Lila.”

I straightened slowly. “Anything else you need?”

His gaze dropped to my legs, then back up. “Not yet.”

The words stayed between us like a promise.

I left, but my legs were trembling. I was so wet the panties clung to me. I wanted to touch myself so badly, but I didn’t. I wanted to save it. I wanted him to be the one who made me come today.

Around three o’clock the intercom crackled.

“Lila. My bedroom. Now.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I smoothed my skirt that was even shorter now from all the bending and walked upstairs on shaky legs.

His bedroom door was open, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, with his jeans unbuttoned at the top. The room smelled like him, warm skin, faint cologne, and pure want.

“Close the door,” he said.

I did, the click sounding loud in the quiet.

He didn’t move, just watched me walk toward him. When I was close enough, he reached out and caught my waist, pulling me between his spread legs. His hands slid down to my hips, then lower, over the curve of my ass.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he said, his voice low and rough. “On purpose.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I swallowed. “Because I’m jealous. I saw you with her last night, and I hated it. I want…” My voice cracked. “I want it to be me.”

His eyes flared, and something possessive flashed across his face.

He stood up slowly, towering over me. One hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my bottom lip.

“You want me to touch you like I touched her?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He groaned soft and low, then crushed his mouth to mine.

The kiss was nothing like I’d imagined—it was better. Hard, hungry, and claiming. His tongue pushed past my lips, tasting me deep, and I moaned into his mouth, hands grabbing his bare shoulders. His skin was hot and smooth over hard muscle.

He walked me backward until my legs hit the bed, then lowered me down without breaking the kiss. His weight settled over me, heavy and perfect, and I felt him hard against my thigh, thick and long even through his jeans.

His mouth moved to my neck, sucking lightly, making me gasp. His hands worked fast, and more buttons were undone until my outfit parted completely. He pushed it off my shoulders, then tugged my bra down so my breasts spilled out.

“f**k,” he muttered, staring. “So pretty.”

He cupped one breast, thumb circling the n****e until it ached. Then he lowered his head and took it into his mouth, hot, wet suction that shot straight between my legs. I arched off the bed, my fingers digging into his hair.

He moved to the other breast, licking and biting gently, while his hand slid down my stomach and under my skirt. When his fingers brushed over my soaked panties, he groaned against my skin.

“You’re dripping,” he said, his voice rough with wonder. “All day you’ve been this wet for me?”

“Yes,” I panted. “Only for you.”

He pushed the panties aside and touched me bare, slow strokes over my slick folds, circling my c**t until my hips jerked. One thick finger pressed inside me, stretching my virgin tightness. It burned a little, but mostly it felt incredible.

“So tight,” he whispered. “So ready.”

He added a second finger, curling them, rubbing that spot inside that made my breath catch. His thumb kept pressure on my c**t in steady circles, and I was climbing fast, thighs shaking.

“Please,” I begged. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He slid down my body, pushed my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my panties down my legs. Then his mouth was on me.

The first lick was long and slow, from bottom to top, and I cried out, hands fisting the sheets. He did it again and again, tasting every inch like he was starving. When he closed his lips around my c**t and sucked gently, I nearly came right then.

His tongue flicked fast, then slow, then fast again, while his fingers pumped inside me, stretching, preparing. The pleasure built and built until I couldn’t breathe.

“Damian,” I moaned. “I’m…oh God…”

He sucked harder, fingers curling deep, and I shattered.

The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over me again and again. My hips bucked against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head. I screamed his name, back bowing off the bed, every muscle tight and shaking. He kept licking softly, drawing it out until I was limp and gasping.

When it finally faded, he crawled back up my body and kissed me slow and deep, and I tasted myself on his tongue, salty and intimate. His hand cupped my face gently.

I reached for the button of his jeans, wanting to touch him, wanting to make him feel what I just felt.

He caught my wrist, eyes dark. “Not yet, baby. When I take you, it’ll be all of you, and you’ll be ready.”

I whimpered, but he kissed me again, soft this time, almost tender.

He fixed my bra and buttons, pulled my skirt down, and then lay beside me, arm around my waist. I curled into his chest, my heart still racing.

For a long minute we just breathed together, then he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You’re mine now, Lila,” he said quietly. “No more games.”

I smiled against his skin, warm and satisfied and already wanting more.

“No more games,” I whispered back.