Family Ties XII

“Coffee?” Bill glanced over his shoulder to see Laura reentering her home office, a pair of steaming mugs in hand.

“Thank you,” he said as she set the mug beside him on the desk they were sharing. He sat on one side, she on the other, making him thankful her desk was more akin to a table and didn’t have a panel keeping him from getting as close as he needed to work. And they had been working all morning contrary to his teasing expectations the night before.

As she sank into her chair, she cast him a smile and eyed him over the rim of the mug, her gaze full of mischief.

“What?” he asked and it was a half to a chuckle when it emerged.

“We’re beating the odds here,” she told him then sipped her coffee.

Grinning, he waited until she’d swallowed before pulled out one of his favored expressions, correcting, “We’re rolling the hard six.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment then filled full to the brim with amusement as the innuendo sunk in fully. She lifted her index finger away from the curve of the mug and wagged it at him. “Careful, Commander.”

He chuckled then picked up his own cup and took a slow sip, gauging the temperature of the liquid before downing a bit more.

They went back to work then, shuffling papers and folders, taking turn making calls. When he was about halfway through a personnel review, she said softly, “I think it’s more than six.”

Bill glanced up to see her looking at a report of her own, but a smile quirked the corners of her mouth. He smiled, too, said as he looked back to the papers before him, “You’re generous.”

He meant it, too. He was not well endowed when it came to length. Girth was his saving grace, he mused, as he flipped to another page and scanned the information.

“You’ve never measured?”

He let out a scoffing sort of chuckle at that query. Yeah, he’d measured, back when he was about fourteen after having been called a runt in the locker room. He hadn’t been impressed with the number and hadn’t checked again until he was seventeen after a girl complained he was too big. That had left him scratching his head because he hadn’t seen much of a difference from the previous measurement. Admittedly, it was well before he’d realized his juvenile mistake of thinking every woman was the same when it came to where he put it and that girth could be as much a factor in such a problem as length. Since then, well, he hadn’t seen a need in worrying over something he couldn’t change and, as he’d gotten older, successful sexual encounters had rendered the idea of a larger number or size inadequacy moot.

“Well, did you?”

Bill chuckled when he confessed, “Yeah. A long time ago.”

“How long?”

He looked up and saw her looking over the rim of her glasses at him, that smile still tickling the line of her mouth, eyes full of curiosity and still that mischief.

“Well before I figured out that it’s knowing how to use it that counts,” he replied.

“And when would that have been?” she prodded then looked back to whatever it was she was working on.

Bill shook his head and laughed again, this time at the absolute absurdity of having this conversation over coffee and stacks of yellow folders. Not to mention in broad daylight in her home office.

Unable to help himself or deny her the satisfaction, though, he answered, “I was seventeen.”

Her response was delivered as she opened her desk drawer, “Then maybe you should check again. Young men do continue growing into their late teens.”

Then she sat a ruler on the desk without even looking up from the report.

Whether she did it as a joke or a challenge, Bill didn’t know but he decided to take it as the latter, set his reports aside, rose and reached for the button on his jeans.

That got her gaze and a too-sly grin. So it was a challenge. Good.

Grinning, Bill undid the button then yanked the zipper down, shoved both the jeans and his boxers down to his knees.

Her leather chair creaked as she sat back, tossed her glasses onto the desk, crossed her legs, and folded her arms across her chest. Her amused gaze locked on his cock, which was already starting to harden.

He grasped it boldly and watched her as she watched him stroke himself to hardness. He saw her gaze darken, amusement mingling with then giving way to desire, and her respiration match the easy pumping rhythm of his hand. Her reactions fueled his efforts and pleasure, his cock growing for her to see, lengthening, thickening … weeping.

Frak, she affected him in ways that made him feel seventeen again. His body gave for her with an eagerness that always surprised him a little. After seeing a decline in response over the years, he’d hardly expected such consistent showings even though he loved her deeply and desired her like his lungs needed his next breath. He was an old man and here he was excited and preening for his lover, his dick achingly hard, his balls hardening and pulling up tight, readying to spill their load under her watchful and appreciative gaze. Seeing her want of him…

“You want the honors?” he rumbled on his own labored breaths

She nodded and rose quietly while he forced himself to release his cock before he shot across her desk. This moment was unprofessional enough without that, he mused, watching her bring the ruler with her. She smiled at him as she neared then looked down.

He watched her still as she touched him, his jaw clenching to stifle a moan at the gentleness of her fingers. He flinched at the coolness of the plastic ruler as she brought it into place. He shut his eyes as she drew her finger along his length, base to tip, but grinned when she announced the verdict then murmured, “Told you.”

He chuckled, opened his eyes and met hers, standing still under her gentle touch. “But not by much,” he said low.

“Semantics,” she replied with a gentle smile.

The ruler clicked then as it contacted the desktop behind her, set there by her hand, a hand that joined the other, reaching down to cup his balls.

“Careful,” he breathed as she caressed him gently.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she whispered, “I think we’ve earned a break, don’t you?”

He didn’t say a word, just lifted his hands and skimmed his fingers down along her neck, across her breastbone to the first fastened button on her blouse. He unbuttoned it, then the next, brushing his knuckles against her warm, freckled skin as he manipulated the fabric and each button. Her felt her belly quiver as he moved lower and her hands moved to unbutton his shirt.

“Bed?” he rumbled, wanting to make sure she was comfortable as he freed the last button on her shirt and reached to push the fabric from her shoulders.

She shook her head. “Here,” she breathed, glancing up at him, adding, “The desk.”

His smile threatening to become permanent, he stepped closer to her, trapping her arms between them as his hands reached around her and moved files and folders aside, not caring that he was probably mixing his things with hers. They would sort them out later. He had other priorities at the moment, like sorting her out of her jeans and getting inside that sweet pussy of hers. The thought of it sent an ache through him, what had started out as a playful challenge turning into a genuine need for more … for her.

Stepping back, he opened her jeans and pushed them down. Barefoot, it was just a matter of her stepping out of them for them to be out of the way. She did just that while he tugged her panties down, fingers grazing over her thighs then edging just beneath the waistband and drawing them slowly to her knees and releasing them to fall the rest of the way. His cock twitched seeing the damp streak from where the fabric had hugged her slit.

She saw it, too, must have felt it, because she suddenly whispered breathlessly, “I’m wet for you.”

His gaze catching hers, he rasped a tender “Yes.”

“Kiss me,” she breathed and he did so, his hands catching her head between them and holding her gently as his mouth claimed hers in a chain of slow, caressing kisses, no tongue, just lips, just love.

As his mouth moved over hers, his hands found her waist and lifted up onto the desk. They skimmed around then, beneath the shirt, moving up over her back to find the clasps on her bra. He unhooked them deftly and gently tugged the garment up to spill her from the cups. He filled his palms with their contents, molding and rubbing, her hard nipples scoring his palms and making his mouth water.

Ducking, he kissed his way to them, lips and tongue leaving a wet trail along her neck to her collarbone, savoring the flavors and textures of her. He thrilled when her fingers grasped his head and urged him lower still, down to take one of the buttoned protrusions into his mouth.

Cupping the soft mound in his palm and lifting, he kissed delicately, suckled as she mussed his hair and hummed softly, sharply, deeply in his ear, her lips just touching the top edge and breath stirring his hair. The latter raised gooseflesh all over his body and made him shiver with need. The sounds … they made him ache with want of her and the need to give her pleasure.

Frak, he loved making her feel good, making her moan, gasp, groan, and shout. He wanted her to do those things, wanted to hear her say his name. He wanted to put his cock in her and feel her all around him, to make her cum and cum inside her. He wanted to love her with his body with the love he felt in his heart. And he wanted it now, right now.

Rising, he captured her mouth again, whispering her name as his hands caressed her thighs. One touch, just that, and she wrapped her legs around him, just like he wanted. Together, then, they grasped his cock and put him in place, and he pushed in with a groan that, along with her gasped “gods,” ended their kiss.

Grasping her hips, he quickly pulled her closer still, sinking as deep as the position would allow. He leaned his brow against hers, panted softly, then laughed when she hummed with obvious amusement, “We’re rolling that hard six now.”

“We will be,” he breathed with a grin and watched her smile deepen, felt her hands cradle his face, fingertips skimming from brow to jaw while her eyes moved over his features in a loving caress.

She spoke then, said words that swelled his heart in his chest with more things than he could name and made him proud to be hers.

“I love you, Bill,” she whispered tenderly, “Every … single … inch.”

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