“Not trying to be attitudey. Just telling you how I feel. And I don't feel like partying,” she continued, her voice low.
“I don't give two fucks how you feel.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
He smacked her on the ass and she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth.
Someone is definitely in the mood to play. I must not be the only one who finds this party boring.
“Why couldn't you just come find me and ask me to end the party? Why do you always hide away?” he demanded, his hand moving back and forth across her skirt.
“Oh, right, like that would work,” she laughed, then gasped when he spanked her again.
“There's that attitude.”
“Jameson,” she breathed.
“Hmmm?”
“You have forty people in the next room, all here at your request. You have to go back out there,” she told him.
“Telling me what to do, Tate?”
“Wouldn't dream of it, sir.”
Spank.
“Fucking attitude. Fuck, Tate. I fly you half way around the world, and half the time all I've gotten in return is your goddamn attitude,” he hissed.
“Oh, c'mon, more like a third of the -,”
Spank.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You better be willing to finish what you start,” Tate panted.
Suddenly, his hand was on her back, shoving her down. Her arms went out from underneath her and she dropped her phone as she was held down flat against the dresser.
Rusty who?
“What the fuck did you say to me?” his voice was deadly soft. She felt his fingers brushing against the back of her thigh, barely a touch. Then her skirt was moving. He pushed it up and over her ass, letting the material bunch around her hips.
“Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I do want to go back to the party,” she whispered, biting back a smile.
“Too late for that, baby girl. You did this on purpose, you know I love these,” Jameson sighed, and she felt his finger run along the top edge of her stocking.
“Not everything is about you. They went with the outfit,” she replied.
“Did underwear not match your outfit? Because you aren't wearing any.”
“Well, couldn't have any lines. That skirt is really tight. I don't want to be tacky.”
“What you want is to be fucked.”
Tate kept her mouth shut, humming softly as his fingers ran up and down the inside of her legs. She stayed silent until his fingers were pushing inside of her. Then she gasped.
“Jameson. There's a lot of people out there,” she breathed, turning her head to the side, trying to see him. Because of his hand on her back, she couldn't lift herself at all, so she couldn't see anything. It was kind of a strange sensation, to be touched, but not see the touch-er. All the fun of being blindfolded, without the pesky blindfold.
“Does that bother you?” he asked, hooking his fingers inside of her. She swallowed a moan.
“No. I just …, know how you are with new people,” she whispered. The hand on her back moved into her hair, pulling sharply.
“Please, Tate, enlighten me. How am I with 'new people'?” Jameson hissed, forcing her to bend backwards.
“You like to put on a good face. The deviant tycoon usually doesn't come out till later,” she explained, then cried out when he pulled hard enough that she had to look straight up.
“'Deviant'? And keep it down, wouldn't want to ruin the 'good face' I've put on so far,” he told her.
“I didn't come in here so you'd follow me,” she suddenly blurted out. She wasn't looking for a pity fuck, not even from Jameson.
“Too bad, cause I did. Stop talking,” he snapped. She groaned, moving a hand to the one he had in her hair, trying to loosen his hold.
“Can't stop, sorry,” she replied. He took his fingers away and she moaned at the loss. But then he was pressing against her, pinning her legs against the dresser.
“Goddammit, Tate. I said shut the fuck up. Why can't you ever fucking listen?” he growled.
“Why can't you fucking learn that I don't like to listen?” she managed a laugh.
He didn't respond. Tate heard a drawer open and she tried to turn her head to look, but he held her firmly in place. There was a soft rustling sound, like he was digging through some kind of material, then the drawer slammed shut.
“What are you -,”
Tate couldn't finish her question, because something was shoved into her mouth. It took her a second to figure it out. Her tongue was against something soft. Almost cool feeling. Smooth. Satin.
He just shoved a pair of panties in my mouth.
“You never fucking do as you're told, so I'll just have to make you,” he informed her, then he was shoving her down flat again.
Her hands weren't bound together, he wasn't holding her in place. She could pull the material out of her mouth at any point. But she didn't. Tate pressed her palms flat against the dresser and groaned loudly as she felt his cock pressing inside of her. She dragged her fingernails across the wood, shuddering when he was pressed up against her, filling her to the brim.
She had come into the room to escape the party. To escape that uncomfortable feeling of being in a room full of people she didn't know. Now, she was getting fucked in a room next to that room full of people she didn't know.
And she didn't find it one bit strange that she finally felt comfortable again.
“I don't give two fucks how you feel.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
He smacked her on the ass and she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth.
Someone is definitely in the mood to play. I must not be the only one who finds this party boring.
“Why couldn't you just come find me and ask me to end the party? Why do you always hide away?” he demanded, his hand moving back and forth across her skirt.
“Oh, right, like that would work,” she laughed, then gasped when he spanked her again.
“There's that attitude.”
“Jameson,” she breathed.
“Hmmm?”
“You have forty people in the next room, all here at your request. You have to go back out there,” she told him.
“Telling me what to do, Tate?”
“Wouldn't dream of it, sir.”
Spank.
“Fucking attitude. Fuck, Tate. I fly you half way around the world, and half the time all I've gotten in return is your goddamn attitude,” he hissed.
“Oh, c'mon, more like a third of the -,”
Spank.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You better be willing to finish what you start,” Tate panted.
Suddenly, his hand was on her back, shoving her down. Her arms went out from underneath her and she dropped her phone as she was held down flat against the dresser.
Rusty who?
“What the fuck did you say to me?” his voice was deadly soft. She felt his fingers brushing against the back of her thigh, barely a touch. Then her skirt was moving. He pushed it up and over her ass, letting the material bunch around her hips.
“Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I do want to go back to the party,” she whispered, biting back a smile.
“Too late for that, baby girl. You did this on purpose, you know I love these,” Jameson sighed, and she felt his finger run along the top edge of her stocking.
“Not everything is about you. They went with the outfit,” she replied.
“Did underwear not match your outfit? Because you aren't wearing any.”
“Well, couldn't have any lines. That skirt is really tight. I don't want to be tacky.”
“What you want is to be fucked.”
Tate kept her mouth shut, humming softly as his fingers ran up and down the inside of her legs. She stayed silent until his fingers were pushing inside of her. Then she gasped.
“Jameson. There's a lot of people out there,” she breathed, turning her head to the side, trying to see him. Because of his hand on her back, she couldn't lift herself at all, so she couldn't see anything. It was kind of a strange sensation, to be touched, but not see the touch-er. All the fun of being blindfolded, without the pesky blindfold.
“Does that bother you?” he asked, hooking his fingers inside of her. She swallowed a moan.
“No. I just …, know how you are with new people,” she whispered. The hand on her back moved into her hair, pulling sharply.
“Please, Tate, enlighten me. How am I with 'new people'?” Jameson hissed, forcing her to bend backwards.
“You like to put on a good face. The deviant tycoon usually doesn't come out till later,” she explained, then cried out when he pulled hard enough that she had to look straight up.
“'Deviant'? And keep it down, wouldn't want to ruin the 'good face' I've put on so far,” he told her.
“I didn't come in here so you'd follow me,” she suddenly blurted out. She wasn't looking for a pity fuck, not even from Jameson.
“Too bad, cause I did. Stop talking,” he snapped. She groaned, moving a hand to the one he had in her hair, trying to loosen his hold.
“Can't stop, sorry,” she replied. He took his fingers away and she moaned at the loss. But then he was pressing against her, pinning her legs against the dresser.
“Goddammit, Tate. I said shut the fuck up. Why can't you ever fucking listen?” he growled.
“Why can't you fucking learn that I don't like to listen?” she managed a laugh.
He didn't respond. Tate heard a drawer open and she tried to turn her head to look, but he held her firmly in place. There was a soft rustling sound, like he was digging through some kind of material, then the drawer slammed shut.
“What are you -,”
Tate couldn't finish her question, because something was shoved into her mouth. It took her a second to figure it out. Her tongue was against something soft. Almost cool feeling. Smooth. Satin.
He just shoved a pair of panties in my mouth.
“You never fucking do as you're told, so I'll just have to make you,” he informed her, then he was shoving her down flat again.
Her hands weren't bound together, he wasn't holding her in place. She could pull the material out of her mouth at any point. But she didn't. Tate pressed her palms flat against the dresser and groaned loudly as she felt his cock pressing inside of her. She dragged her fingernails across the wood, shuddering when he was pressed up against her, filling her to the brim.
She had come into the room to escape the party. To escape that uncomfortable feeling of being in a room full of people she didn't know. Now, she was getting fucked in a room next to that room full of people she didn't know.
And she didn't find it one bit strange that she finally felt comfortable again.
