Sticky Read online

  Ben. I couldn’t recall if I’d ever thought of him by his first name. In my mind, he’d always been Mr. Hunter.

  “I… I need to go,” I stammered.

  There was no question about it now—I was definitely aroused. In addition to my hard nipples, my blood was hot and there was a distinct pulsing between my legs that I hadn’t experienced in far too long. I squeezed my thighs together a little.

  Mr. Hunter reached out and took hold of my wrist, his fingers finding the pulse racing under my skin. For a shocked instant I realized it had been months since I’d even felt a man’s touch.

  His hand was incredibly warm and strong. Heat zinged through me, centering on the increasing throb in my sex. I shifted, rubbing my thighs together, unsure quite what was happening here.

  “You’re very beautiful, Madeline,” he said, leaning closer. His gaze seared right into me. “I noticed you at that first board meeting when I was hired. I thought you were beautiful, cold, and repressed. Then when I started working with you and the PTO, I discovered I was right.”

  Any retort I might have made got stuck in my throat. His fingers rubbed the pulse at my wrist. Tingles traveled up my arm.

  “You think I spend the PTO meetings assessing budget allocations and curriculum.” Mr. Hunter’s voice dropped an octave to a low, delicious rumble. “But do you want to know what I really do? I spend the meetings watching you. And I think about all the filthy things I want to do to you.”

  I parted my lips to inhale a breath. My blood was blazing. I couldn’t move. I knew I should leave, but all I could do was sit there helplessly, caught in the trap of this man’s grip and his intensely blue eyes.

  He leaned closer, putting his face right beside mine, his nose nuzzling into my blond hair. He smelled like shaving cream, sharpened pencils, and sugar cookies. When he spoke, his voice was a hot whisper right against my ear.

  “Do you want to know my filthy desires, Madeline?” he murmured, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair against my neck. “I think about tearing your designer clothes off your body and watching you get on your knees in front of me. I think about driving my cock into your pretty mouth and watching you suck on it. I think about ripping your panties off, messing up your perfect hair, hearing you beg me to fuck you. I think about coming on your tits, about watching you spread wide open for me while I—”

  “Stop!” I cried.

  I tore my wrist from his grip and bolted from the chair. I stumbled across the room, so aroused I’d almost come from the stream of scandalous words he poured into my ear.

  Oh, dear God in heaven.

  “How dare you!” I gasped, fury raging alongside the intense desire in my blood. “I am the president of the PTO, a respected and highly valued member of this school and community.”

  “I know,” Mr. Hunter replied. “You’re also badly in need of a good, hard fuck.”

  Dizziness washed over me. I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself. I’d gone head-to-head with him for the past three months. Surely I couldn’t weaken now.

  “Listen, Mr. Hunter,” I said, infusing a chilly note into my voice. “I know you have all the other mothers—and no doubt, a few fathers—panting at your feet. But I assure you I am immune to your so-called charms.”

  “Are you?” His eyes lit with amusement. “Then why are your panties wet?”

  A shudder rocked through me. He was right. My ice-blue, wispy panties were so damp I could feel the silk clinging to the folds of my sex. I tightened my grip on the chair.

  “I will not have you speak to me like that,” I said, trying to maintain my quickly slipping control. “Other mothers might have all sorts of lewd fantasies about you, but I do not.”

  “What do you fantasize about, then?” he asked. “Since your pathetic excuse of a husband isn’t taking care of you, you must do it yourself.”

  “This…” I flicked my tongue out to lick my dry lips. “This is so astonishingly inappropriate.”

  “I know. That’s exactly what makes it fun.”

  I shivered, crossing my arms over my breasts. My nipples were achingly hard.

  “Tell me, Madeline,” Mr. Hunter ordered, his gaze never leaving me. “What do you fantasize about when you touch yourself?”

  I blushed, my anger giving way to embarrassment. My fantasies were hardly creative. I was too busy being a perfect mother and wife to have any time to indulge my imagination.

  “Madeline?” he prodded. “What do you fantasize about?”

  “Just about… I don’t know,” I admitted, unable to believe I was telling him anything at all. “Having sex.”

  A brief silence fell. My blush deepened.

  “Well,” Mr. Hunter finally said, “that’s a start.”

  A bubble of laughter rose in me. He smiled, running a hand through his thick, dark blond hair as he returned to sit in his chair behind the desk. It was an easy, unconsciously masculine gesture that made his shirt stretch over his broad chest.

  I took an unsteady step toward the door. I could feel my clit pulsing, sending little waves of heat through me.

  “Take them off, Madeline.” Mr. Hunter’s husky command went straight to my blood.

  I curled my hand around the doorknob. My pulse raced.

  “Now,” he added.

  Oh, God. Shivers rained down my spine. I started to turn the knob. A thousand scenarios flashed in my head, all centering on one, unbidden truth.

  I wanted Mr. Hunter to fuck me. To fuck me.

  The dirty, forbidden, shocking desire bloomed inside me so fast and hard I couldn’t deny it. With a trembling hand, heedless of the consequences of my decision, I snapped the door lock shut.

  Mr. Hunter didn’t move, but triumph flashed in his eyes. I faltered, certain that despite my fierce urges, I could never do what he demanded.

  I was the president of the PTO, for God’s sake. I organized fund-raisers, ice-cream socials, and budget meetings. If anyone found out about this very immoral encounter with the school principal…

  A ripple of fear raced down my spine, which only heightened my arousal.

  “Madeline.” His voice had an edge now, his eyes narrowing. “Take them off.”

  Oh God, oh God.

  My hands shook as I slipped them under my skirt, which was tight enough that I had to pull it up over my thighs to reach my underwear. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I hooked my fingers into the flimsy elastic and pulled my panties down. I was wearing French lingerie that I’d bought because it was pretty rather than in attempt to seduce my husband.

  A rush of vindictive pleasure filled me. Richard might have no interest in seeing me clad in lacy lingerie, but Mr. Hunter certainly did.

  My panties caught on the heel of my three-inch pumps as I pulled them off. Cool air brushed against my hot flesh. Impulsively, I tossed the lacy panties onto Mr. Hunter’s desk, where they landed right on top of the sugar cookies.

  He smiled. “Nice. Come over here.”

  My sex pulsed as I crossed the room and went around to where he sat. I struggled against the urge to press my thighs together. I pulled off my suit jacket, dropping it onto the desk.

  Mr. Hunter had pushed his chair away from his desk, and my gaze went involuntarily to his lap.

  My heart jolted. He was not only hard—he was rivetingly hard, the long, thick ridge of his erection resting along his thigh and pressing against the material of his trousers.

  Catching me staring, Mr. Hunter chuckled. He covered the bulge with his hand, tracing the length up and down through his trousers. The sight of him sliding his fingers over his cock made my pulse race.

  “You can have this, Madeline,” he murmured, “if you show me your pussy.”

  I snapped my eyes back to his face. He was watching me, his blue eyes like lava. My belly twisted with apprehension and fear, but I grasped my skirt and pulled it up over my hips. Mr. Hunter’s gaze focused on the juncture of my thighs, where my neatly trimmed sex peeked out.

  He b
reathed out a curse and slipped his finger right into my wet folds. I inhaled sharply, my head spinning at his adept touch, heat rocketing through my body.

  “Oh, God.” A moan escaped me as he moved his finger back and forth, stroking my urgency higher. “Mr. Hunter…”

  “You poor thing,” he said, circling his forefinger around my slippery clit. “All fired up with no one to fuck you. I knew you were a hot little piece under all that propriety.”

  I couldn’t think past the haze of need that had descended over me. I couldn’t even process how utterly wrong this was—me standing with my legs open, letting the school principal finger my pussy. And wanting more.

  My breath scorched my lungs. I stared down at his dark blond hair, his muscled forearms, the flush cresting his cheekbones. I ached to see him naked.

  Just as my body began an exquisitely painful ascent toward release, Mr. Hunter pulled his hand away. When I made a noise of protest, he gave me a wicked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “You don’t get to come that easily,” he said, running his hand over the bulge of his erection again. “You have to work for it.”

  I shivered. In all the years of my marriage, I had never given my husband a blow job. Even before Richard and I had children, our sex life had been ordinary and unadventurous. Then it just stopped.

  I couldn’t imagine giving my first blow job at age forty, of all things, much less to the school principal. Despite his view of me, this arrogant, young man had no idea that not only was I sexually deprived, I also had very little actual experience.

  He frowned at my hesitation. I put my hand on the desk. My skirt was still hiked up over my thighs, my sex swollen and wet. I tried not to fidget.

  “I’m… I’ve never given a blow job before,” I admitted.

  If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead he worked the buckle of his belt and slipped it off, tossing it to the floor. Then he sat back, his legs open.

  “Well then,” Mr. Hunter said. “Welcome to your first.”

  My heart hammered. I sank to my knees, wincing as the folds of my sex parted with the movement.

  This was so indecent. So dirty. Forty-year-old married mothers and PTO presidents didn’t get on their knees to suck off the school principal.

  Except I was about to do just that.

  I felt his gaze on me as I reached for the fly of his trousers. The ridge of his cock looked as if it were about to burst right through the material. My breath shortened. I worked the zipper and eased his pants and boxers down.

  Oh, holy God.

  His erection bobbed upward, so big I had a rush of apprehension at the thought of even touching it, let alone putting it in my mouth.

  In my mouth.

  My white silk shirt was sticking to my damp skin. As I tried to gather the courage to touch him, Mr. Hunter grasped the base of his cock and stroked upward. I swallowed, mesmerized by the movement of his hand.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered. “I want to see those pretty red lips sliding over my dick.”

  I settled my hands on his strong thighs and leaned forward, enveloping the head of his erection in my mouth. The salty taste of him flooded my tongue. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through my nose, hoping that for the first time in my life, I could actually do this.

  His breath was coming faster. I shifted, curling my hand around his warm, throbbing shaft as I tried to take him in farther. Though I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I was supposed to do (should I actually blow on him?), I instinctively ran my tongue over his length, circling the taut head.

  Mr. Hunter buried his hands in my hair, his groan of appreciation telling me I was doing it right. When he pushed his hips upward, like he wanted to fuck my mouth, I relaxed my jaw muscles and let him thrust.

  “That’s it,” he said, his voice hoarse with lust. “Lick it now… all the way down… ah, fuck, that’s good. You’re a natural, Madeline.”

  Pride flickered in me. I wasn’t a perfectionist for nothing. I stroked my tongue down his shaft and sat back to tug his trousers off. I felt light-headed as I edged my hand down to cup his tight balls.

  “Mr. Hunter, I…”

  “I’m not going to come in your mouth,” he said, as if he knew the very idea overwhelmed me. “At least, not this time.”

  Startled, I stared up at him. His mouth curved with a smile as he urged my mouth down onto his cock again. I sucked and licked him, feeling almost like an expert by the time my juices started dripping down my inner thighs. I wiggled a little, rubbing my legs together.

  “I’m getting so hot,” I whispered.

  “Take your shirt off,” he said, wrapping his hand around his dick again.

  I shuffled backward, my hands shaking as I unfastened the little pearl buttons marching up the front of my silk shirt. I slipped it off my shoulders, welcoming the caress of cooler air. My nipples tented the lacy material of my pale blue bra.

  Unable to meet Mr. Hunter’s eyes, but feeling his hot gaze branding my skin, I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. My breasts quivered, the stiff crests jutting forward as if begging for his touch.

  “Beautiful.” He beckoned me toward him with a crook of his finger.

  Still on my knees, I moved closer and watched raptly as he caressed my breasts with his big hands, his fingers twisting and plucking my nipples so expertly I moaned. Heat shot right to my core, flooding me with need. I arched my back, pressing my breasts into his hands.

  Despite the utter indecency of what we were doing, I couldn’t help but love Mr. Hunter’s touch. Something inside me felt as if it were filling up, overflowing, like water pouring over a dry, desiccated plant.

  He watched me with that intense gaze, his fingers rubbing underneath the crevice of my breasts before trailing down my torso to the waistband of my skirt.

  “Get on the desk,” he ordered huskily.

  I had no willpower to resist. Panting, I rose and hitched myself onto the desk, my skirt now wrenched up around my waist, my sex and breasts fully exposed to Mr. Hunter’s lustful gaze.

  “Can I…” I licked my lips. “Can I see you?”

  “Only if you take my clothes off.”

  My heart thumped. I reached for the knot of his necktie and tugged it off, then started unbuttoning his shirt. His golden skin appeared beneath the V of open material, and I pushed his shirt off to reveal the tanned, sculpted planes of his chest and shoulders.

  “Oh, you’re gorgeous,” I breathed, running my hands over his chest, delighting in the sensation of his hard muscles and taut skin.

  I followed the line of hair trailing all the way down to his cock, which stuck straight out from his groin, and when I grasped the thick length in my hand again, he gave a hoarse laugh.

  “You’re a fast learner, Madeline,” he remarked.

  “You’re a good teacher, Mr. Hunter,” I replied, swiping my thumb over the damp head of his erection.

  He smiled, his eyes like sun-drenched ocean waves, and then he slipped his hand beneath my chin and lifted my face to his for a kiss.

  A kiss.

  I was so stunned that all thought slipped from my mind. I hadn’t known until that moment that I hadn’t just been starving for sex—I hadn’t shared any affection with another adult in much too long.

  My throat constricted. Mr. Hunter kissed me gently at first, his lips light and teasing, and then with more force as I began to respond. He darted his tongue out to caress the seam of my lips, and when I opened for him, he delved inside. A moan of pleasure escaped me. He ran his tongue over mine, nibbled my lower lip, and licked the corners of my mouth until I was panting with need.

  “Christ, Madeline,” he whispered, rubbing my naked breasts as he trailed his lips across my cheek to my ear. “You’re so goddamned hot. You don’t just want to be fucked… you need it.”

  “I don’t just need it,” I murmured as he bit gently on my collarbone. “I need you.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desi
re. He pushed aside the plate of sugar cookies and some papers on his desk, then put his hand between my breasts and urged me backward.

  I tried to catch my breath as I lay back, twitching when his fingers trailed up my inner thighs. I tried not to imagine how I must look splayed out on the school principal’s desk, a sacrifice to pure erotic pleasure.

  “Oh!” I gasped when Mr. Hunter touched my spread sex.

  He gave a muffled laugh, sliding his finger over my folds and down to my slit.

  “So fucking hot,” he said as he pressed his finger into me with a groan. “Oh, shit, you’re tight. Goddammit, I can’t wait to see you riding my cock.”

  The implications of that remark didn’t quite penetrate the lusty fog in my mind, and when Mr. Hunter started working his finger back and forth in my channel, I wiggled around shamelessly in a silent plea for more.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, sliding another finger into me. “I’ve had so many fantasies of you, Madeline. Even in the middle of PTO meetings, I’d be thinking about fucking you. I’d get so jacked up I’d have to come back to my office and jerk off. Jesus, I’d shoot so hard, imagining what you’d look like writhing naked underneath me…”

  Heat blazed over my nerves, his rough, raw words twisting through me like a flame. I gave a desperate sigh, edging backward on the desk, aching for more than just the thrust of his fingers.

  “Oh, Mr. Hunter, please…”

  “Please what?” He moved between my legs, placing his hands on my knees and pulling them up so my feet, still clad in my heeled pumps, rested on the desk.

  I flushed at the sharp, sudden exposure, even feeling my bottom cheeks cleave open. He pulled a foil packet out of his wallet and rolled a condom on before rubbing his cock against my intimate folds. I bucked upward, urgency firing through me.

  “Please fuck me.” I no longer cared what I looked like or how I sounded. Hell, I no longer cared who I was—I just wanted to feel his thick cock driving into me, pounding, throbbing…

  “I need it so badly,” I pleaded, lifting my head to look at him as he eased into me. “I’m so… oh, God, you were right, Mr. Hunter. I’m desperate to be fucked… please, do it to me…”