Close My Eyes

Wednesday. Three days since Rome. Haven't told Mark yet.

Keep meaning to. He makes coffee in the morning, asks about my day, kisses my forehead. The children need their lunch money. Rupert has a dentist appointment. Life keeps happening and the words won't come.

My phone buzzes during a consultation. Client droning on about boundary disputes. Look down.

I told her.

Richard.

What?

Clare. I told her. I couldn't wait. I'm out. I've left.

Richard, no. We agreed together.

I couldn't keep lying. I need to see you. Tonight.

This wasn't the plan.

I don't care. Where are you?

Cambridge. At work.

Can I come to you?

Should say no. Should go home. Should tell Mark first before seeing Richard. Do it properly.

My office. After hours.

What time?

Six o'clock.

Look at my phone. At his words. He's actually done it. Left Clare. And I'm still going home to Mark tonight like nothing's changed.

---

Sent everyone home early. Said I had briefs to review.

Five fifty-five. Sitting at my desk. Case files everywhere. Still in my work clothes. Black skirt. White blouse. The same pearls I wore in Cambridge that first time.

Hands shaking.

Text him the door code.

Six o'clock. He's there.

The second the door opens, he's all over me. Soft lips and firm hands. Rummaging under my clothes and kissing me before I've even had the chance to close the door or lock it. It's hurried, urgent, eager. He's got one hand on my bum, reaching round so he can press firm fingers into the crack of my arse through my skirt. Pulling me tight against him so my clit pulses against his rapidly-stiffening cock.

Grope and grab at him whilst I snog him greedily, occasionally breaking off to nuzzle into his neck. Inhaling his scent like an addict.

'I left her,' he says between kisses. 'Packed a bag this morning. I'm staying at a hotel in King's Cross.'

'You weren't supposed to do it without me.'

'I couldn't wait anymore.' Kiss him harder. 'Your turn now.'

We stand there. My office around us. Law books. Files. The life I've built.

'I'm scared,' I say.

'So was I. Did it anyway.'

'The children...'

'I know. But you promised. In Rome. You promised.'

Gets my blouse open. Buttons everywhere. One hits the floor, rolls under the desk. His mouth on my neck. Biting.

'We can't keep doing this.'

'I know. But we are.'

Gets my skirt up. Black tights. Then he drops to his knees. Right there on my office floor. Perfectly positioned with his face at my crotch.

A wolfish grin as he looks up at me.

'Finally doing what your big sister tells you.'

'Shut up.'

'Make me.'

'I really wanna taste that fucking cunt.'

And then stars. Tongue, lips, wetness. Rips the tights right at the gusset. Pulls my knickers aside. His mouth on me immediately. Broad, firm contact with his tongue on my clit and moans that prove what I need to know. He wants this. He loves this. He's eager. So very very eager.

'Look at me,' he says. 'Don't look away.'

Do. Watch him between my legs. His eyes locked on mine whilst he eats me. Pulling the sort of faces I rarely make for anyone. Gurning and moaning and gripping the desk edge tight so I can yank with all my strength, willing myself to come on his tongue. Almost there. So close. Because he knows just how to make me let go. Give in. Abandon myself to everything. No shame, no performance, no uncertainty. Just instinctive, pure need.

'Keep going,' I say. 'Please keep going. Do it. Fucking eat me. Please.'

He does. For as long as I can maintain eye contact. His hands gripping my arse. Pulling me harder onto his face. Can feel myself getting close. That tightness building.

Then he stops. Pulls back. Mouth glistening.

'Not yet,' he says. 'Want you on that desk when you come.'

'Bastard.'

'I know.'

Stands. Spins me round. Bends me over the desk. Case files under my chest. Someone's divorce settlement crushed under my tits.

Belt. Zip. Then his cock. Pushes inside. No warning.

'Fuck.'

When he slides in there's resistance and I can feel his muscles straining to push it in. I dig into his arse with my hands, drawing him deeper, and when he gets there every stroke hits depths that make my eyes roll back. Make my skin redder. The flush of blood to my face and the expressions I pull are involuntary and intense. This isn't pretty sex. Good. It's not meant to look aesthetic, it's meant to feel fucking great.

And it does.

Doesn't start slow. Just fucks me. Hard. The desk moving. Files sliding. A vicious pounding, hard and fast and brutal.

'I left her,' he says. Gripping my hips. 'I actually did it. And you're still going home to Mark tonight.'

'I know.'

'So what now? I've blown up my life and you just keep lying?'

'Don't know.' Can barely speak. So deep. 'Don't know what to do.'

'Harder,' I say.

He does. Pounds into me. Desk scraping. Files everywhere. Pearls swinging. Within minutes I'm gripping the edge of the desk, pulling tight as I grit my teeth and ride out those first delicious waves.

'That's it,' he tells me, emphasis on 'that' like I need to know exactly why he's pleased.

'That's it. Fucking come for me.'

And I do. I will. I already was.

He only tells me to come once I'm already falling over the edge, when the first ripple is hitting and the next ones are inevitable. Bucking my hips to get the angle just right, doing my best to look him in the eye even though my vision is starting to blur. I crush him inside me and let out a moan as I come. And come. And keep coming.

While I'm panting and murmuring 'thank you' over and over, he pulls out. Turns me over. Sweeps the files off the desk. They scatter everywhere. Lifts me onto the edge. Grabs my ankles and shoves my legs back, folding me in half before plunging back in. Deep and firm so the breath I've been trying to catch is knocked straight back out of me.

For a bit he fucks me just to fuck me, but I'm greedy right this minute so I nudge him towards finishing. Whisper in his ear that I really want his cum.

He picks up the pace straight away, pounding harder and simultaneously issuing one of my favourite commands.

'Say please.'

Outrageously filthy and hot in the perfect way. He's telling me he wants to come and letting me know exactly how to trigger it. What's more, the specific thing he desires is just what I'm desperate to give. He wants to hear me beg.

My little brother. Making his older sister beg. Would've never believed it when we were kids fighting over the remote.

Fuck yes.

'Please,' I begin. 'Please please.'

Just one or two to start with, then more.

'I really really want your fucking spunk. Please please please pour it out, dump your cum in me, fill me up fucking give it to me.'

I like to have a task. Not having to guess and wonder at what he might need but knowing with total certainty. He wants me begging so I fucking beg.

'Please please Rich give me your spunk. You feel so fucking good, you're so hard and you're so deep that's exactly where I want your fucking cum...'

And he comes. With deep grunts and aching moans and a frown that might read as angry if I didn't have his cock clamped firmly inside, feeling each telltale twitch as he starts to pump it out. Shot after shot, injected so far up inside me that I half-imagine I can taste the fucking stuff.

I'm holding my breath to better focus all my energy on the sensation of what it truly means to be full. Stuffed. Crammed so tight with his cock that when he pours his load out it feels like it might overflow. Pouring out down the lips of my cunt and the crack of my arse because there's just no fucking space left inside me.

Fuckkk.

He likes to stay in there after he's done so we stay like that for a bit. Breathing heavily and sweating and whispering. When he slides out I nestle into him licking the sweat from his shoulder and neck and head. He wraps big arms around me, pressing smiles and kisses into my hair.

'That was fucking amazing.'

'We are amazing.'

Still holding each other. His cock soft now against my thigh. Case files on the floor around us.

Then I sit up. Look at him.

'Stay there.'

'What?'

Climb on top. Straddle him. His cum and mine running out of me onto his stomach.

'Hands above your head.'

'Natalie...'

'Do it. Or I stop.'

He does. Puts his hands above his head. Gripping the edge of the desk. My little brother. All mine now.

'You left Clare,' I say. 'Actually did it. So now you're mine properly.'

'Yes.'

'You wanted me to leave Mark. You want me all to yourself.'

'I do.'

Lean down. Kiss him. Slow. Deep. His hands stay where I told them. Obedient.

'Next time I'm tying you up with these.' Touch the torn tights still on my legs. 'Binding your wrists. Making you watch whilst I do whatever I want.'

'Fuck, Natalie.'

'You'd like that wouldn't you?'

'Yes.'

Can feel his cock stirring again under me. Getting hard. My little brother likes being told what to do by his big sister.

'Good boy.'

Then I see it. Movement in the corridor. Through the glass panel in the door.

Someone's there.

Freeze. Richard's still beneath me. Hands above his head. Hasn't noticed.

The figure moves closer. Can see them now. Recognise them.

Jonathan. Senior solicitor.

Our eyes meet through the glass.

He stops. Just stands there. Taking it in. Me straddling Richard on the desk. His hands above his head. My torn tights. The scattered files. My blouse open. Pearls askew.

'Richard.' My voice strange. Distant.

'What?' Starts to lower his hands.

'Don't move. Someone's there.'

He freezes. Sees Jonathan. Goes completely still.

Jonathan doesn't move. Just watches. His face unreadable. Then he turns. Walks away. His footsteps echo down the corridor.

My phone rings. Mark's name flashing.

'Fuck.' I climb off. Richard sits up. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.'

The phone keeps ringing. Jonathan's footsteps fading.

'Don't answer it,' Richard says.

'I have to.'

'Who was that?' Fumbling with his clothes. Doing his belt. 'Who fucking saw us?'

'Jonathan Pierce. Senior solicitor.'

The phone. Still ringing. Mark waiting.

'Christ, Natalie.'

'I know.'

Stand there. Me half-naked. Richard's cum still running down my thighs. The torn tights. My blouse open. Case files everywhere. The phone ringing and ringing.

This is it then. No more choices. No more delays.

'I have to answer.'

'I know.'

Pick up the phone.

'Hello?'