Page 80 of Fair Ball

“You know what I mean,” she says with a cute little annoyed curl to her mouth. “Our situation. You being my boss, me being your assistant, and us having sex. We need to talk about it.”

I rest my forehead against her, breathing deeply to calm the lust riding me hard. It doesn’t work. “Can you talk while I touch you?”

She snorts. “Can you?”

“Gonna be difficult to speak while my mouth is on your pussy, but I’ll give it a shot.”

She playfully swats me, and I tug on the elastic of her shorts, ready to beg. “After? I promise. I’m just so stressed, and I want to forget about everything for a little while.” Then I hit her with what I hope are puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Mills?”

“Fine.” She heaves a perturbed sigh, even as she pushes on my shoulder, a clear directive, and I happily comply.

Kneeling on the floor, I shuck her shorts and underwear off and place her leg over my shoulder. “You steady?”

She nods, honey-brown eyes bright with interest as I grab hold of her thighs with a tight grip, how she likes it, and her skin pebbles with goose bumps.

“I promise we’ll talk later,” I say to reassure her that I heard her request and agree. We do need to talk. Just not right now. In a little bit. After I’ve had my fill of her to calm my nerves. To force me out of the spiral I’ve been in all day. Hell, all week.

As usual, I’m not delicate with her. I don’t hesitate or tease her. Rather, I use my thumbs to open that soft pink flesh of hers to reveal her clit, and I give it one lick before I place my lips over it and suck. She dives her fingers into my hair, tugging slightly, letting me know she likes it because, as usual, she’s quiet. When I flick my gaze up to hers, I find her watching me. As usual.

It’s so hot that she likes to watch me—us. Her attention rapt whenever we’re together like this. As if she wants to experience it with as many senses as possible. She once asked me if the smell bothered me. I laughed, told her the smell of sex, of her desire, is one of my favorite scents, and she quietly hummed, considering it for a moment before going on a tangent, wondering out loud about what would turn me off. “What if I’m on my period? What if I didn’t shower for three days? What if I ate something that made me sit on the toilet for three hours, would you be grossed out by me?”

“There is nothing you could do that would make me not want you,” I told her.

“What if I were a worm?”

“Guess I’m fucking a worm, then.”

That made her crack up, but what I feel for her is no laughing matter. If she were to suddenly turn into some kind of insect, I’d be at the closest voodoo and magic shops for something that would let me follow her down into the dirt.

Millie is it for me, and there is not one part of her, nothing she could do, that would make me not love her.

I kiss her pussy like I’m kissing her mouth, grip the soft globes of her ass with enough bite that she knows I’ve got her. I’m not letting go. A strong hold that allows her to relax.

And she does. Her muscles give way the longer I spend down here, and I hold her up when she starts to lose it. Her head rolls back as her breaths come faster, her standing leg tensing. Still, I continue to lap at her, alternating between firm strokes of my tongue and rubbing the tip over the sensitive bud of her sex until she finally gives in with a soft whine and a sharp pull of my hair.

It does take work to get her there, but once she crosses that first orgasm, the next ones always come much easier, and I lift my head away from her only long enough to ask, “One more like this?”

“Yeah,” she pants. “Use your fingers.”

So, I do. She’s sensitive and swollen inside, and she immediately clenches around my middle finger. I pull it out and take a few seconds to admire how it glistens with what I can do to her, before adding my ring finger to push back inside her, curling until I feel that rigid spot. Only a few strokes of it, along with attention to her clit, and she goes flying once more.

“I got you,” I tell her when her knees begin to give out, and I wrap my arm around her waist, guiding her to lean against my shoulder until I clean off my fingers and mouth from the evidence of her two orgasms. If it were up to me, I’d keep it there all day, but she doesn’t like it, so with a few swipes of my T-shirt, it’s gone, and she’s up in my arms.

I carry her to my bedroom, and as soon as she’s on the bed, she strips her shirt off without fanfare. That’s another thing I love about her—the way she’s not at all modest about sex. She may not think she’s sexy, but I do. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. From the way she isn’t afraid to speak her mind about sex to the way she directs me so I know exactly what she needs to come instead of pretending she’s enjoying it when she’s not. In my experience, women have always wanted to please me. They’ve been meek in and out of bed, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that it was my fault. They might have been afraid of me and my crazy train reputation, but Millie is not.

She is her own person, unlike anyone I’ve ever met. A perfect little vixen. She leans back on her elbows, allowing me to look my fill of her, skin dotted with freckles and slightly flushed. Her auburn hair is up in a messy knot, and I spend a long while admiring the line of her throat and shoulders, her small and round breasts, and the dip of her belly button. She spreads her legs wider before I have to tell her, because she is indeed a siren wrapped up in a neurodivergent package. With my focus between her legs, I get rid of my clothes in short order then rip open a condom, my patience nowhere to be seen.

Especially with those come-hither eyes. Though, I don’t believe she even knows what she’s doing. It’s simply Millie being Millie. Interested. Curious. Wanton yet still a little shy. Waiting for me.

I kneel on the mattress and circle my finger in the air. “Flip over.”

She does with a small smile, positioning herself on all fours, her pert ass on display. I rub my palms up and down her back, along her hips, and over her cheeks, spreading them so that I can slip two fingers back inside her. “Comfortable like this?”

She glances over her shoulder at me, and I nearly come from the picture she makes, all warm and expectant. Instead of answering me with a nod or word, she pushes back into me. I grit my teeth, lightly smacking her thigh with my other hand as I use her wetness to lube up the condom before rubbing the tip of my cock along her entrance, notching it just inside. After another journey of my hands all over her, I wrap them around her hips and thrust.

Each time I sink into her is another reminder that I am exactly where I’m meant to be. Wherever Millie is.

She is my home. My refuge.