Beg for It (2 page)

Her other hands slips between his thighs to cup his balls. She doesn’t squeeze, though when he pushes back against her, she lets out a low warning tone and allows her grip to get a little tighter. Just enough to warn him.

“Please,” her boy whispers. “Please, Ma’am.”

Corinne let out a hushed cry as she withdrew her fingers from her yearning, hungry cunt and used them to rapidly stroke her clit. She’d fucked him in the shower, fingers, mouth, and tongue working him until he’d begged for the release she had not granted until he’d gone to his knees in front of her and given her two orgasms with his tongue. The water had turned cold by the time they’d finished, but neither of them had noticed.

She moaned his name, letting the thrum and beat of the water take it away so she could almost pretend she hadn’t said it aloud.

Her breath sobbed out of her as she slid two fingers inside her pussy again, curling upward. She let herself go with the pleasure. No more holding back. Stroking her clit again in a steady, constant rhythm, Corinne urged her body toward the edge.

So close, so fucking close, and yet she couldn’t manage to tip over. With a frustrated groan, she turned to press her back against the wall. Now the water spattered her breasts, teasing her nipples almost painfully. It washed over her belly and between her legs, and she tipped her hips upward to let it pound her clit. There, there it was, the stream from the showerhead nothing compared to a sweetly flicking tongue, but all she had at the moment. Corinne used both hands to open herself, exposing her pussy to the water’s steady spray.

Her boy should be on his knees in front of her right now, she thought somewhat incoherently. His fingers gripping her hips. Digging deep. Holding her close to the expert, relentless stroking of his tongue against her.

Oh, yes. Oh, fuck yes
. This was it, the point of no return, when everything up until now had been merely a tease. She was going to come, yes, right here, like this, and…

Corinne shook with it, aware of the sting of water in her eyes but not caring. Nothing mattered but the pleasure. Not her own harsh grunting or the stinging needles of water turning chilly or the fact she was definitely very late for work now. All that mattered was the ecstasy sweeping her away from everything that made her sad.

Panting, her inner muscles clenching, Corinne twisted the faucet to turn off the water. She stumbled with weak legs onto the bathmat and grabbed for her towel. Pressing it between her thighs, she let out another hitching sigh at the aftershocks the soft terrycloth gave her. She wanted to come again and again, spending the day in a never-ending chain of climaxes, stopping only to nap in the sweaty entanglement of her lover’s limbs and to be fed cheese and grapes and to sip chilled wine.

The thought of this, finally, made her laugh.
As though that scenario would ever happen,
she thought as she bent to tuck her hair into the turban she made of her towel and went, otherwise naked, to the sink so she could finish getting ready. A day of nothing but pleasure? How long had it been since she’d been able to indulge in something like that?

A long, long damn time,
Corinne thought as she stared at her reflection. The pink flush still spreading over her chest and up her throat gave her a small smile. At least she’d had a few minutes of gratification, anyway, and she should count herself lucky. A few of her friends had declared they no longer even cared about sex at all.

The day she no longer wanted to get off, Corinne thought, she hoped it was the one they put her in the ground.

Chapter Two

Before

Weekends at the diner are always crazy busy. It’s one of the few places that is open twenty-four hours, where you can get breakfast all day, and so it’s popular with the local college kids during the week and even more crowded on the weekends with people coming out after hitting Lancaster’s downtown bar scene. Corinne works the late night shifts so she can take her business classes during the day at Millersville University. She’s going to get an MBA if it kills her—and sometimes, it feels like it might.

She does envy those students who come rolling in around two a.m. with cash to spend on platters of pancakes they leave half-eaten and wasted. They leave her tips in stacks of pennies and nickels hidden beneath the lettuce they took off their cheeseburgers. Mostly, she envies them the ability to go to school and keep playing on their parents’ dime while she toils away at this job that breaks her back and kills her feet, just so she can get her degree.

There’s one group in particular that both amuses and annoys her. Three, four, five younger guys who seem to have known each other since elementary school, based on the nicknames they use for each other and how comfortable they are with casual, physical contact. Squeezing into a booth, hips and shoulders pressing, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, feet on each other’s laps. At first she’d assumed they were gay and crazily brave enough to flaunt in front of this rural city’s judgment, but they’ve been coming into Triton’s long enough now that she sees they’re not gay. More like brothers, a pack of them, forged by friendship and not blood.

Reese is the quiet one. He always orders the same breakfast. Two eggs over medium, wheat toast, hash browns, coffee, and every few weeks, he adds a single pancake. He uses cream and sugar in his coffee but only a little syrup on the pancake, and he always, always leaves her a nice tip of folded dollar bills tucked beneath the edge of the plate.

Reese has a crush on her. Corinne knows this because she catches him watching her as she takes care of the other tables. When he thinks she can’t notice him, he stares, but every so often she’ll look up into the diner’s mirrored interior and let her gaze move across the room, deliberately seeking out the sight of Reese’s long-distance worship. On the nights when he doesn’t come in, she finds herself still looking for his reflection.

Tonight, they’re short-staffed and overcrowded. People wait for tables even though it’s nearly two in the morning, and anyone with any sense would’ve gone home to bed by now, grouchy Corinne thinks as she weaves and bobs to get around Dino, the busboy, who’s trying to clear off a table so she can seat someone else. Corinne’s so busy she barely notices when Reese and his friends come in, at least until she finds herself at their table. They’re jostling and joking, causing a ruckus as usual. Except for Reese, in the far corner.

At the sight of him, every bad feeling she’s had this entire night, all the shitty tips and messed up orders and rude patrons…all of that melts away when she sees Reese’s smile. He’s a gust of clean, fresh air, and she breathes him in. For a moment it’s like they’re the only two in the diner, but only for a blink, because she shakes herself back into the real world. No time for goo-goo eyes. She sees him watching her in the mirrors as she walks away, and for the first time in all the months he’s been coming in here, Corinne lets her gaze meet his in the reflection.

She smiles.

After a few seconds, Reese smiles too.

The next hour is a blur of coffee and late-night orders, but she keeps an eye on the clock for four a.m. Her salvation. Her shift will end, and she’ll be able to finally get home, grab a steaming shower, and slip into bed. It’ll be Sunday. She doesn’t have class, and she won’t have to go back to work until Monday night.

So caught up in the rest of the work, she doesn’t notice when Reese’s group heads out, leaving piles of cash on the table and Reese sitting alone, waiting for the check. She notices the look in his eyes though. Oh, yeah. She notices that, for sure.

“I’m about ready to go off shift,” Corinne says as she scribbles the total on the bill and passes it to him. “If I leave before you’re ready, you can take it to the register.”

“I’m ready now.”

The words leap from her lips, coasting on a smile. “Are you? You sure?”

Reese doesn’t smile. He nods, his gaze never leaving hers. He’s lined his icy eyes with dark liner that make them stand out even bluer. It’s not a look she usually goes for, but something about this guy flips Corinne’s switch.

“Yes. I’m sure,” he says.

As far as come-ons go, it’s subtler than she’s used to, but that’s what she likes about him. He’s waiting for her outside when she comes out, and she somehow expected that. His shoulders are hunched, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and he’s blowing out a few frosty breaths into the late November chill.

“Are you coming home with me?” she asks.

“Yes, please.” He smiles.

And
that
, that she fucking loves, the way he says it so politely, so hopeful and yet at the same time it’s clear he has no doubt she’s going to say yes. He’s confident. Not cocky.

She lives close enough to the diner that the car doesn’t even have time to get warm before she’s pulling up in front of her apartment. Not that it has to—the heat between them is palpable. They haven’t talked much on the ride over, but whenever she glances over at him, Reese is looking at her.

Inside, she hangs up her coat and turns to him, meaning to ask if he wants a drink, but she’s in his arms before she has time to say a word. Reese pulls her close, his hands firm on her hips. She expects a kiss.

Instead, Reese goes to his knees in front of her.

Everything inside her shakes at this, his worship of her, his face pressed to her belly. Her hands go automatically to the top of his head, fingers threading through his hair. She cannot breathe.

She can feel the heat of him through the thin cotton of her uniform. He inches up the hem, sliding his hands up the backs of her thighs along the smoothness of her pantyhose. At the press of his mouth between her legs, Corinne mutters a cry.

Reese laughs and nuzzles her. Her fingers tighten in his hair until he looks up at her. His eyes blaze. His mouth is wet.

She finds her voice. “You want this pussy on your tongue?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

Her grip tightens a bit more. His eyes go half-lidded, heavy with desire. She doesn’t know why she says this, but something inside her has awakened. Something strong and powerful and incapable of being denied.

“Please…what?” She waits, breathless, uncertain what he will say, but when he speaks, his answer is perfection.

“Yes, please…Ma’am.”

In that moment, everything Corinne has ever believed she wanted from a man falls away. She’s been waiting, she thinks, dazed, as she stares down into Reese’s face. Waiting her entire life for this.

Chapter Three

Stein and Sons had started off as the Stein Brothers back in the thirties, when Morty and Herb Stein had joined forces to provide a dairy delivery service to rural families who lived too far from town to make a regular trip but who didn’t live on farms.

Morty had handled the actual deliveries. Herb had gone door-to-door not only to the farmers from whom they’d negotiated their supplies, but also to the families who’d needed convincing that the Stein Brothers could provide them with efficient, reliable, and, most importantly to Depression-ravaged central Pennsylvania,
thrifty
goods and services. They’d started with driving a single horse-drawn carriage and preparing invoices in the back room of their mother’s house and ended up with a fleet of refrigerated tankers and a corporate headquarters. In the early to midseventies, renamed Stein and Sons, they’d been the largest local dairy delivery service in the entire state. Corinne could remember pouring Stein and Sons milk on her cereal while watching Sunday morning cartoons.

Of course all that had changed over time. No more home deliveries. Competition from other dairies. Issues with customers refusing to buy products that used bovine growth hormone. Slowly, the business had diversified and reorganized and downsized.

Stein and Sons morphed from a delivery service of bottled milk, cream, and cheese into a small dairy specializing in gourmet items such as goat’s milk, artisanal cheeses, specialty yogurts, and hand-churned ice cream. With an on-site store and tours to capitalize on Lancaster County’s thriving tourist business, Stein and Sons had a tidy little setup that would’ve confused its founders, but Corinne liked to think it would also have made them proud.

Chief financial officer. The title felt unwieldy when she said it aloud, though it looked just fine on all the stationery printed with her name. The company was so small that she did more than take care of the financials—she was also the head of human resources and director of operations…sort of. All the jobs had been bundled into one. They’d had to let go most of the other staff. Other than the off-site custodial staff that came in to clean three days a week, most of the time it was only Corinne and the secretary, Sandy, in the office. The fifty or so other employees who maintained the barns and livestock and worked in the production facility rarely, if ever, came in. It wasn’t exactly what her early twenties self, waitressing at the local diner and busting her ass to complete her MBA, had pictured she would be doing, but Corinne guessed that could probably be said by a lot of people.

She’d started at Stein and Sons fifteen years ago in the accounting department and worked her way up, until here she sat in her own corner office with a big, shiny desk and a view of what had once been farm fields but was rapidly becoming obscured by neighborhoods populated with mini-mansions. She’d been through every downsize and shift in the company’s focus. There’d been a few times she’d considered leaving for a position that paid more, but she’d never quite made the leap. She’d been too aware of how deceptively green the grass could be when fertilized with the manure of someone else’s cows. Now she wondered if it was time to start seriously revamping her résumé.