Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I hadn’t needed to fuck Mr. Lazarus to get the job; that part came later. I was fairly close to the top of my class at the University of Chicago Law School, a hard worker, and several of my professors described me as some variation of “take no prisoners” in their glowing recommendation letters. To keep a long story short: Lawyer material. I was still surprised to even interview with Lazarus nobody could accuse me of sleeping my way to the top. I wasn’t, however, above sleeping my way to a few higher-profile clients and a fatter paycheck. Mr. Lazarus could give that to me without having to kiss anyone’s ass first — well, except mine.
Plus, he was gorgeous. Thick salt-and-pepper hair, dimples peeking through dark scruff, a genuine if rare smile. I’d always been turned on by the confidence of older men; someone so successful and handsome only added to the allure. And his marriage gave me security, power. He couldn’t hold the relationship over my head without taking himself down, too. The ideal affair.
Tonight was special. We were going out to celebrate my most recent legal victory — with all the top lawyers at the firm. Including Mr. Lazarus’ wife, who I hadn’t met yet. She’d been away since I started back in September, working on a complicated trial on the other side of the state, which had given her husband and I nearly three months of extramarital bliss. With her return and Christmas coming up, I suspected our tryst would come to an end.
That didn’t stop me from dressing to the nines, though. It was outside work hours, so I opted for a little blush pink velvet number I took out often during the holiday season Plunging neckline, higher-than-usual hem on a flouncy skirt that threatened to blow in the wind, and heels that accentuated my calves. I added a sharp black blazer to make it a bit more professional, but I wasn’t pulling any punches.
Lazarus sent his personal towncar to my little apartment. The driver, small and balding, greeted me with a pleasant smile. “Miss Spaulding, I presume? He did say you were beautiful.”
“Becca — nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and quickly tucked mine back in my coat pocket; the December air was freezing on my exposed legs. “I’m surprised he said that about me.”
“You shouldn’t be.” He opened the back door of the car for me and I slid in. Before shutting the door, he said, “It’s just a quick drive up Lakeshore to the restaurant. Won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
I gave him a quick smile. “Thanks.”
The driver tucked himself back in the front seat and shut the darkened partition between us. Finally alone, I slumped in my seat and took out my phone. Classic 25 year old, I know.
My phone buzzed and a text from Lazarus lit up my screen. I imagined it in his deep, smooth voice. “Chase told me he picked you up safely.”
I texted back, “No problems so far. Looking forward to reuniting with the Mrs. tonight?”
“Ha, no.” His replies came quickly. I wondered if they were already together, awkwardly biding their sexless time before the rest of the lawyers arrived to distract them from each other. Lazarus had given me some clues into his marriage — outside of the occasional threesome, they weren’t intimate much anymore. He suspected Suzanne was a lesbian, but they stayed together for the sake of the practice. Whatever worked, worked.
“Hopefully I can cheer you up :)”
“You always do, kitten.”
I blushed at his favorite pet name for me. “Thank you.”
The next text from Mr. Lazarus was simple, straight-forward, and nothing short of hot: “Take off your panties before you sit down tonight. I have a reward for you.”
Then, a follow-up only a second later. “And leave your panties in the car as a present for Escort İstanbul me.”
My reply was immediate; I loved being treated like his little plaything. It was a welcome distraction from my high-powered, ambitious, cutthroat reality. “Yes, sir.”
The only thing better than reading those words was hearing them in his low, growling voice. I hiked up my skirt and shimmied out of the black thong I’d worn, which left me completely naked underneath my dress. It was too low-cut and form fitting to get away with a bra. I folded the thong neatly and left it in the seat next to me.
The driver dropped me off at the curb in front of the restaurant, which was a swanky place for cocktails and small plates right in River North. If you’d told me at the beginning of undergrad that this would be my life — expensive drinks on the company card, sleeping with the boss, tight dresses and high profile cases — I would’ve laughed in your face.
I took in a deep breath as one of the valets opened the glass door for me. I stepped inside and let the warmth heat up my chilled red cheeks for a second. Then, when I felt steadied, I approached the hostess’ podium and said, “I’m with the Lazarus party.”
She looked me up and down. “You must be the guest of honor; Mr. Lazarus called for our best table and most expensive champagne. What did you do to get all that?”
I smiled. “Just won my biggest case yet.”
“Congratulations, must’ve been a big win for the firm.”
I offered a forced laugh; small talk wasn’t my strong suit. “Retainer fees through the roof, always good.”
A waiter appeared and introduced himself with a winning, toothpaste-white smile. He led me through the crowded restaurant and I tried to walk slowly enough to take everything in. Modern chandeliers hung down from the high ceiling, illuminating the faces of men and women with the kind of money that controlled things. Sparkling jewelry, Gucci cufflinks, tittering laughter. I felt simultaneously out of place and comfortable in my skin; I was earning my own keep in this world, with a little help from Mr. Lazarus.
We reached what was obviously the nicest table at the restaurant. A long table, twelve seats. Two seats on either end, four on each of the longer sides. A fine white linen tablecloth concealed the legs of everyone waiting for me. Seated on one end were two of the senior partners, lining each side were the other junior lawyers.
On the other end, Mr. Lazarus, an empty seat to his left. His wife diagonal on the corner to his right. I took a quick moment to take them both in. Polar opposites. Where Mr. Lazarus was angular and harsh, his wife was soft and supple. She wasn’t the prototype of a female lawyer — intense, ambitious, cold. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair blonde and neatly curled to her shoulders. She kept a smile on no matter who she turned to.
And, frankly, she must’ve been a lesbian if they weren’t sleeping together anymore, because they were both just plain sexy. Like me, she had opted for a low-cut top. Unlike me, her breasts were full and large and practically spilling out. In photos, she always wore button-ups and blazers; tonight she’d let her hair down. Her pale blue dress coordinated well with Lazarus’ deep blue suit, and I could see them feature in a perfume ad or something.
Mr. Lazarus turned to look at me once the waiter pulled my seat out. His eyes devoured me, lingering on my breasts, my waist, my hips, my leg. I thought he was being obvious with the lust written on his face, but nobody seemed to pay us any mind. He stood and gave me a hug, squeezing my ass with my body turned firmly away from the rest of the group. Under his breath, he said, “You look İstanbul Escort Bayan delicious, kitten. Did you do what I asked?”
I offered a shy smile. “Of course. You’ll find your little gift in your car on your way home.”
He smiled again, that ‘good girl’ I craved plain in the curve of his lips. He stayed standing as I sat down, raising his glass for everyone to see. “Rebecca Spaulding, the guest of honor!”
He gave a quick speech about the case and then raised a glass to me. I tried not to blush too much as my colleagues smiled and lifted their drinks in turn. Lazarus sat back down and clicked his glass to mine.
After everyone had a few sips, the conversation took off. Mr. Lazarus turned his attention to his wife and I. “Suzanne, I know you’ve been dying for a formal introduction to my rising star.”
Mrs. Lazarus gave me a warm smile that I hoped was genuine. She offered me a hand across the table and I shook it, noting how perfectly manicured her nails were, how gigantic the rock on her wedding ring was. “So good to meet you, Rebecca. I’ve heard good things.”
“Becca, please. Only my parents still call me by my full name.”
She chuckled. “And my husband, it seems.”
“Well,” I replied, trying not to let my awkwardness come through, “he’s very formal. Very proper.” I turned a devilish gaze to the man in question. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Lazarus?”
At that, Suzanne laughed openly. “You don’t let these poor juniors call you by your first name?”
Mr. Lazarus scoffed, taking a bite of his appetizer. “You know me, sweetheart. Propriety matters.”
Underneath the table, his left hand found my exposed thigh. My heart rate quickened at his touch. My skin bristled, each downy hair out of place sending electricity straight to my core.
“I wouldn’t want any of my subordinates to get the wrong idea.”
She laughed again. “You’re not in the military anymore, Aaron. You can loosen up a little.”
“Oh, I’m plenty loose.”
His fingers drifted toward my inner thigh where I was most sensitive. My toes curled in my high heels as he gave a firm tap on my thigh. Once, then twice. I knew this was a command to spread my legs for him. I shifted in my seat, making sure the tablecloth covered my lower half as I let my thighs come apart. The cool air of the dining room made contact with my labia and I stiffened a bit, adjusting to the exposure.
He traced slow circles on my inner thigh, rubbing and caressing while talking pointedly to his wife and eating his meal. Suzanne smiled and responded, oblivious to everything. I found myself lost in his touch, phasing out of the conversation and imagining, well, the way we usually spent our free time together. I picked at my salad with my fork, not tasting it with his hand between my legs. He liked to tease me, make me wait. Beg if he could.
Lazarus was tall and broad from his military days, handsome and rugged and strong-willed. Tonight he wore a navy suit, the top button of his shirt undone and revealing chest hair. Casual, professional, totally in control. I’d never been with a man who could hold me up and fuck me against a wall until him, and it was hard to concentrate with those thoughts running through my mind and his hand about two inches away from my increasingly wet pussy.
While I was daydreaming, Suzanna asked me, “So, how have you been enjoying your time with us, Becca? Think you’d want to become a partner someday, or do you want to move into another legal area?”
“Good question, Suze,” Lazarus added. He half-turned and met my eyes. His were hazel green and flirtatious, lit up with desire. “Angling to stay with us long-term?”
Before I could speak, he slipped a finger inside Anadolu Yakası Escort my cunt.
It took everything in me not to gasp. I was already so wet there was no pain or resistance, but blush flew into my cheeks. I was tight and wanting him. At first, I thought, ‘He’s really going to finger me in front of everyone? In front of his wife?’ Shortly followed by, ‘God, I hope so.’
“You’ve gone all red,” Suzanne noted, polishing off a glass of wine. “Don’t be embarrassed; we can talk frankly about our ambitions with like-minded people.”
“Not embarassed-” I tried not to stutter “- just a bit warm from the wine, I think.”
“Such a lightweight,” Lazarus teased, his finger rhythmically pumping my g-spot. His eyes trailed to my slightly quivering lip. “How charming. We’d certainly like to have you at the firm as long as possible. I think it’s been an excellent partnership thus far.
I smiled and met his eyes. His touch was intoxicating. I stifled moans that bit at my lips. “I really appreciate that, Mr.Lazarus. And I agree. A great partnership.”
“You’re a rare talent; very glad we snapped you up when we had the chance.”
“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” I swallowed, wanting nothing more than to lean back and let myself groan as he fingered me. I kept my composure even though my voice shook a touch. “It’s an incredible opportunity.”
He smiled back at me. “That’s good to hear.”
Then, finally giving me a second to breathe, he turned back to his wife and increased his onslaught on my pussy. He slipped another strong finger inside and curled. My breaths threatened to come more rapidly and I tried to keep my lungs in check. There was no telling what Mr. Lazarus wanted to do to me tonight, whether he would try to get me off right here at the table or sneak me off into a back room.
That question, though, quickly answered itself. While making light small talk with the other lawyers, he moved from penetrating me with his fingers to circling my clit. He went agonizingly slow, teasing me with expert care. I was already so worked up from his attention to my g-spot that the slowness ached. It only made me want him to take charge, throw me in the backseat of his car, and fuck me hard even more.
His rough fingers continued to massage my clit as I sipped absently on my wine. My pussy was dripping onto the back of my dress and I knew standing up would be embarrassing if anybody caught a glimpse. I didn’t care, though. I just needed him to keep touching me. He worked methodically at my clit, speeding up and slowing down until I was practically spasming in my seat, right on the brink but unsure if I could cross over the edge with so many eyes threatening to land on my red cheeks at any moment.
Lazarus leaned in and whispered to me, his breath hot against my ear, “Be good and cum for me, kitten. Then make up an excuse and go wait for me outside. I’ll be five minutes.”
He resumed talking with someone across the table. His fingers spend up into a crescendo and my cunt exploded. He didn’t stop as I came, rubbing me hard and fast and not letting my orgasm subside until a single gasp escaped my mouth.
Immediately, his fingers left my pussy and I could see him trying to contain a snicker.
At my outburst, Suzanne asked, “Are you alright, Rebecca?”
I forced a grimace. “Just, ah, banged my knee on the table. Bit of a klutz; the wine’s going to my head.” I awkwardly stood up, wishing that I hadn’t checked my coat so that I could cover the wet spot surely on my backside. “I think I’ll go and get some air for a bit, clear my head.”
She gave me an almost-concerned smile and said, “Definitely, we’ll still be here when you’re feeling better.”
I excused myself from the table and walked out of the restaurant, picking up my coat from the checker. I leaned against the brick facade of the building to catch my breath. My own juices dripped down my inner thigh while I waited for Lazarus to come out and…I didn’t know what.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32