“No,” she said.
“Take them off, Courtney.”
Without taking her eyes off me, she fiddled with her heel beneath her. I didn’t break the stare. I watched her descend, heard the clop of her heel hit the ground, then the other. Her toes slid the shoes from her feet, and slid them behind her. The heels must have been several inches, because now her nose was about level with my chin. We stood there in silence for a moment, her seething, me letting my cock harden against the fabric of my slacks. I could do anything with her, I thought. Malevolent thoughts swirled in my brain, but if I had to be honest, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
“You know what you’re here for?” I said.
Her lips hardened to a tight line. My eyes led down her chin to the stiff, proud neck, to her deep cleavage, and the sparkling black dress. I wanted to throw her down and make her say my name.
She never would, I thought, with a nervous, thrilling flutter in my stomach.
“You going to say anything?” I said.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
I reached out and drew her to me. She came without protest, though still stiffly. I let her feel me against her mound, our bodies still hot from the dancefloor. My mouth went to hers. But I was only kissing her lips. She didn’t open.
“I don’t have to put on a show for anyone,” she muttered into my tongue.
“Just me,” I said.
“Fuck you,” she said matter-of-factly.
I pulled away and nodded. “Go to the wall.” I pointed to the wall between the bathroom and the TV. She went. I waited so that I could watch her ass shift and sway under the shimmering material. How, I thought, how could a man know that was in the world and not want it? And how evil would he have to be to get it?
She turned when she reached it, looking only partly confused. She probably expected me to tell her to take it off. That wasn’t going to happen yet.
“Face the wall,” I said.
She put a hand on it, then narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?” she said.
“I’m telling you what I want,” I said. “No more questions. Face the wall. Put your hands on it.”
She did it quickly enough. She turned and laid her palms flat on the wall. But she didn’t trust me – and I couldn’t blame her – so she kept glancing behind, her eyes not failing to show her trepidation.
“Bend over,” I said.
For once she did it without protest. This she understood. This she could see in her mind’s eye. Me, wanting her, plunging into her. And I had to admit, when the money was involved she could be almost agreeable. Courtney’s hand slid down the wall as she bent at the waist. The skirt rode up the backs of her thighs, up to the bottoms of her round buttocks.
I slid the skirt the rest of the way. It nearly took my breath away. Courtney’s bare ass was taut, moist from the night’s exertions, the delectable handfuls of her bottom perky, round. And she wasn’t wearing a strip of clothing under there. No panties. Her vagina was shaved bare. I could tell because she bent over far enough for me to see it. I reached for her cheeks and pried them apart, to get a look at her asshole.
“What are you doing?” she growled, nearly sliding off the wall.
Annoying her, I thought. “I said no more questions.”
“Stop,” she said. My fingers dug deeper into her. Was it her asshole she was worried about? I wanted to spread those cheeks to make her uncomfortable. And it was working.
“You can yell out for whoever you want,” I said. “It’s just us tonight.”
She was turned from the wall, her hands still planted on it. “Just take it out and do it,” she hissed.
Almost business-like, I thought. I gently released her, letting her ass cheeks wobble, loving every bouncing inch of them. But I didn’t do it, at least not what Courtney intended. I got a good grip on her left hip, and arced my hand back, and delivered a swift smack to her right ass cheek.
Courtney let out a choked cry. Her hair whipped as she sank a demonic glare over her shoulder, at me. “Face the wall,” I said.
She did. She pushed her hands into the wall and leaned back. I rubbed the reddened skin of her buttock and swung back. I laid a second smack on her cheek, making her reel forward on her toes. “Ah!” she gasped.
I gripped her right hip, and raised my left hand. “You got me in a lot of trouble,” I said mildly, and brought my palm down on her thick little ass.
“Nah!”
She didn’t even try to stifle her gasp.
I slid my hands down her thighs, not stopping the slow journey of my fingertips until I reached the backs of her knees. I bent forward, my nose at her tailbone, and kissed between the fleshy meeting of her cheeks.
“Don’t-” she said.
I stepped back. “Don’t what?” I spanked her again. The black dress hung off her waist and I had to imagine what her breasts were doing under there. Without a bra, she must be hanging right against the fabric, something I could see if her long hair wasn’t in the way. But she was half naked, from the waist down, all that elegance bundled up and wrinkled at her waist and all her tan, callipygean lower body planted in the carpet, anticipating her next spanking. “You knew what tonight was about,” I said. I grabbed her ass roughly and spanked her hard on the right buttock. This time she swallowed her cry and released a tight exhalation. I could see her calves tense. “Didn’t you?” I said. I spanked her again. She went up high on her toes.
“Nuh!” she said.
“If you were my girlfriend you’d be enjoying this right now,” I said.
“Fuck you,” she said.
I gave her another slap on the ass. She pressed closer to the wall.
“I asked you to come to my company retreat, and you show up without a bra and panties? Not very lady-like,” I said. I squeezed her buttocks. Then I gave her a sharp underarm smack, right between her thigh and ass.
“Ah!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I bent over her. My lips drank in the sweat on her spine, wending a wet trail down to her tailbone again, down her cheek, to the flushed skin on her rump. “Can I kiss it better?”
She wiggled me off.
I pressed close to her. My hand sunk into the cleft of her ass until I found her labial folds. Without warning, I slipped two fingers high up into her snatch. She was soaked. But as I said, we’d been dancing all night.
“Agh!” Courtney growled. She peeled one hand off the wall and I pinned it back with my own. My shoes slid behind her heels to keep her at the wall and I bent over her while my fingers rimmed the inner edges of her vagina. “You… shit…” she groaned.
I bent my mouth to her ear. “What did you tell your sister, Courtney?”
She laughed. This close I could smell and see the sweat running down her face, and from the line in her forehead I knew that my fingers in her were not without their reaction. Still she laughed, ass out and bent over against the wall. So I lubed up my thumb in her sticky pussy and pushed the button of her asshole until it sunk in.
“No,” she groaned.
“Push back, Courtney.”
She did. My knuckles disappeared inside her tightness.
“Pull out,” I said.
She drew herself closer to the wall, until her orifices were almost free of my fingers.
“Push back.”
She sank herself back onto them.
The thought of her orifices just made me hotter, and I couldn’t stand the wet mess I was making on the inside of my slacks. With my free hand I reached down and undid my belt, telling Courtney not to stop pushing herself back and towards the wall. I pulled my pants and boxers down, my dick flipping up from the waistband, and hurriedly kicked my shoes off, kicking it all in a pile in front of the bathroom. I came up closer, till my cockhead was rested against her butt cheek, and snaked a finger of my free hand across her mouth, until my index broke past her lips.
She tried to bite, but I ignored it. And soon she was sucking on my finger, pushing my left hand in and out of her ass and pussy.
“What did you tell her,” I said, returning to her ear. I wrapped my wet finger under her lips.
“I told her you liked to fuck me,” she said. “That you’re a pervert. That you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“That’s all true,” I said. I rubbed my dick back and forth on her springy ass. “But is that what you really told her?”
She laughed again. “Do you actually think you’re getting back together with her?”
It was something I still considered, but hearing Courtney say it didn’t make it sound any saner. I shoved my fingers deeper inside her.
“Ah! Don’t!”
“Don’t?” I said again. “Do you not know what you’re going to do tonight?”
She spat back her answer, the only honest answer, the one we’d both known since she’d hit the dancefloor. “I’m going to fuck you,” she said.
“That’s right,” I said. “I think you’re wet enough.”
She didn’t have an answer to that. But her body answered for her. Her juices were running between my fingers and dripping down the inside of her bare leg.
I pulled my fingers out and slid them up to her waist. She shuddered. Her whole body shook. Courtney sank lower into her position, the muscles in her back and legs straining, but not giving out. She was built for this, I thought. She was hard in all the necessary places to let me fuck her the way I wanted, to stay bent over against this hotel wall, soft in all the best places to take me standing up, deep. I had no doubt how deep I could go, as hard as I was for her, as wet and wide as her legs could spread. But I refused my aching cock, and that lathered pussy. I reeled back and spanked her again.
Courtney let out a shocked growl. “Stop!” she said.
I spanked her again.
“You want to be fucked but not spanked?” I said.
“Fucking… bastard…” she growled, but it sounded half-hearted, caught in the lie.