Inspiration Ch. 08

He rose up from the chair then stepped from behind the table.

Rosangela returned to the stock room, was somewhat pleased that Marcella returned to the checkout lacking any type of enthusiasm. She slid a stepping stool before a shelf then stepped up with the clipboard in hand. She focused, eyed the label on the stack of boxes and proceeded to write down the count on the inventory sheet attached to the clipboard.

The stock room door clicked.

She huffed then stated, "Al, I ain't gonna get this shit done if you keep sending my ass to the front." she shook her head with annoyance then offered, "Let me finish this damned shelf and I'll be out." She stepped onto the top of the stepping stool and eyed the very top boxes.

She paused, heard no response from the boss. Her eyes frowned as she lowered the clipboard then questioned, "Al?" Her eyes then darted wide, felt a hand on her ass then she questioned with confusion, "Al?"

Her head turned and eyes shifted down. She gasped, "What the fuck?" She knocked the hand off her vinyl covered ass then nearly lost her balance on the stool mid turn but caught herself. She quickly leaned back against the shelf for support.

Victor smiled up at Rosangela.

She quickly asked, "What the hell you doing back here?" then she stated, "You're not allowed back here! Employees only!"

He grinned then announced, "I'm taking a break."

She grimaced then sarcastically commented, "Good for you." then she demanded, "Now get out!" She gave a nodded gesture for the door while nearly glued back to the shelf. For her, it was too close for comfort and apparently hiding in the stock room wasn't as successful as she first thought.

He took a step forward, his eyes scanned her lovely figure enhanced by the snug fit of the pencil skirt made of a very familiar material. His eyes scanned back upward then looked her in the wide eyes. He praised, "You look wonderful."

"Thanks." she quickly responded then snapped, "Now leave!"

He ignored her demand then lifted his hands, again wanted to feel that slick and smooth vinyl.

Her eyes grew wider watching his hands. She protested, "Nope!" Quickly she moved, nearly dropped off the stool then roughly shoved passed him headed for the door.

He turned on his patent leather shoes, his grin broadened.

She grabbed the doorknob but the moment she managed to get the door cracked open it slammed shut by the weight of another hand. Her lips pursed together then her eyes looked to the hand flat against the door, and she ordered, "Move it."

He again ignored her as he leaned against her from behind.

For all those months he thought of the moment he would see her again. He made certain that his book tour began at the very store they met and she became his inspiration. And, unlike his past, she was still the chosen inspiration and, admitted to only himself, he needed her again.

She angrily huffed, felt him press against her. Her eyes squeezed shut, desperate to find an escape because there was obviously too much temptation beginning to again develop which she knew was wrong.

Her eyes snapped open the moment she felt his fingers draw back a lengthy black curl from the side of her neck. She felt his breath against her ear then the brush of his lips. She again closed her eyes trying so hard to steer herself away from his direction that was blatantly right behind her.

He whispered, "I need you."

She shook her head, kept her eyes closed, and felt the frustration grow because of the damned confusion he easily produced inside her.

His hand rested against her black covered shoulder then slid downward dragging his fingertips against the fabric of her button down blouse. His hand shifted, aimed his fingers down then molded over the shape of her vinyl covered hip.

He feathery dragged his bottom lip against her ear then confessed with a heated whisper, "I need my inspiration."

Her eyes against snapped open followed by her head turning. Her eyes widely peered at him through the corners. "Oh...oh..." she stammered then snapped, "I don't fucking think so!" She abruptly turned then shoved her hands against his shoulders.

A voice called from the other side of the door, "Rosangela?!"

She shouted back, recognized Al's voice, "Yeah?!" Her eyes narrowed as they focused on the author in front of her.

Al's voice questioned, "You alright in there?"

Her face twisted with anger then she loudly replied, "Yeah, I think Stew screwed up the inventory!"

"Oh," Al's voice said, "Well, um, keep it down with the cussing, okay?"

She shouted, "Sure thing, boss!" she slightly sneered then said, "Sorry!"

Believing Al gone from the door, she again shoved her hands against Victor's shoulders. Then she quietly grumbled, "You're something else." she aimed her finger at his face then angrily whispered, "You honestly think you can walk up in here and say shit like that, huh?" she shook her head and corrected his assumption, "No, not gonna happen."

He wanted and needed it to happen. His hands snatched her angry face then with a little struggle from her, he crushed his lips against hers. For months he imagined smothering her lips with his again, to taste her lipstick and feel the smooth labret pierced in her bottom lip.

She pushed back or tried, he had a firm grip of her face and his lips had an even firmer latch on her lips. Her body squirmed as her boots scuffled against the floor trying push her back from his grip. She whined and groaned, desperate to pry him off her because he just broke the barrier of beyond uncomfortable in the stock room. Her hands slapped and pushed against his shoulders as his tongue found its way passed her lips.

Such a rush, he praised, that type of sexual rush he hadn't experienced since she left. Though she desperately tried to fight him off, he knew she also fought against the desire to cave. He wanted her to cave. He needed her to cave.

His hands released her face but before she shove back, one arm swiftly gathered her against him with a hand slapped against her vinyl covered ass. His free hand swiftly went to the buttons of her blouse, far too long he wanted his hands to again mold her lovely tits.

His cock grew hard quick, he hadn't fucked not one woman in all those months. Oh he tried, wanted to get back into the swing of his normal existence but his cock rejected woman after woman for Rosangela was the key to the perfect hard cock.

Many nights he eagerly stroked his cock while his eyes watched repeatedly on his flat screen her body coiled in red as she suffocated and fucked his fingers then came, followed by him fucking her hard.

As he wrote his book seated before his traditional cloth ribbon typewriter, he created new scenarios he truly desired to enact on her. Each of his written words provoked his cock and after every written scenario he stroked his cock into exploding in her honor. She was his muse. She was the only inspiration needed and he wanted nothing more than to make her cum.

She continued to struggle, the weight of her desires for him seemed to gain leverage against her will to stop herself from caving. She continuously whined but her lips seemed to develop a mind of their own and accepted his exploring tongue. She tried to pry his hands away but the moment his hand undid the buttons of her blouse and swiftly tucked within the cup of her bra, her hands loss use.

His fingers found her hardened nipple and with ease pinched which caused her slightly squeal. How he missed her squeals, whines, gasps, and moans.

His hand left her tit but swiftly snatched the length of her hair then jerked her head back severing their lips. His top lip sneered then he confessed, "I need to make you cum."

She shook her head, both her hand darted and reached back grabbing hold of his hand that gripped her head.

He disagreed, "Yes." then he drew his hand back from her ass and found the zipper at the hip of her skirt.

She gasped, "No." She desperately tried to pry away his firm grip of her hair.

His fingers pinched the zipper then started to guide it down. With a broadened grin he stated, "Yes."

"Rosangela," Marcella's voice spoke as the door to the stock room started to open.

He quickly released her, his eyes darted to the door.

Rosangela quickly spun, swiftly drew up the zipper then darted for the door. She grabbed the handle then stopped it from opening any further. "Yeah?" she questioned somewhat out of breath then leaned and peeked out the crack at Marcella.

Marcella frowned then questioned, "Have you seen, Signore Hardway?" she took notice of Rosangela's flushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, and heavy breaths, "His agent has come back with the coffee he asked for."

Rosangela quickly shook her head and lied, "Um, nope, I've been back here." she continued to shake her head, "Yeah, so I have no idea."

"Oh," Marcella said, slightly suspicious then quickly spotted Rosangela's undone blouse.

Rosangela's eyes darted down, saw her exposed red bra. She quickly gathered the blouse closed then laughed followed by lying, "My bra came undone and I was just, you know, fixing it." she awkwardly laughed then rolled her eyes, "Bras."

Marcella nodded but still had her doubts since the author blatantly said Rosangela was the woman on the cover of his book. She took a step back and again nodded, "Okay, I will let you go back to work."

Rosangela's head bobbed in agreement as she held a big smile then slowly closed the door. She huffed as her shoulders slumped. Her head leaned against the door. She groaned at the author, "Go fetch your fucking coffee." She spun around but slammed back against the door with him firm against her.

She grumbled, "Dammit."

He coyly grinned, dragged his hand down the length of her arm then wrapped his fingers around her hand. He stated, "I can't go out there," he swiftly delivered her hand against his hard cock issue and confessed, "Not in this condition."

She whined, felt his firm cock prod her hand through the crotch of his trousers. Another whine, she asked, "And how is that my problem?"

He pressed her hand firmer against his crotch then replied, "Yes, my problem but you caused it."

She gasped in response to the accusation then denied, "Am not!" she tried to pull her hand back but he simply leveraged it firm against his cock then she stated, "It's your fucked up head that caused your problem!"

With a slither he accused, "But your in my head and that caused this problem of mine."

He released her hand but swiftly undid his belt and fly. He pressed up against her, her hands quickly pushed against his shoulders but his determination was stronger.

He tucked his hand beneath the waist of his boxers and firmly gripped his cock. With a firm stroke of his own hand he breathed in confession, "I can't count how many times I've jerked off to you."

Her lips gaped in shock towards his blatant confession. Her wide eyes looked into his, saw a nearly sinister glimmer within the dark brown. She commented, "You're a pervert."

He chuckled then softly groaned upon firmly stroking the length of his cock. His lips neared hers and he breathed, "I watched that beautiful video over and over and I came over and over every time."

She stammered, "Yeah, you're definitely a pervert."

He slyly commented, "I know you've likely cum many times thinking of me." he again chuckled followed by another heated groan, "You confessed I used to make you cum when you read my books, imagined me doing so many breathless things to you, hmm." He stroked his cock harder which caused his brow to tense.

His hips instinctively shifted in response to the firm stroke of his cock. His breaths heightened and he urged, "Make yourself cum while I make myself cum."

She shook her head, her eyes locked with his.

He brushed his lips against hers, felt the warmth of her breath. He urged, "Undo your skirt, slip your hand between your legs, and make your pussy cum."

He licked his lips, heightened the stroke of his cock then commented with a question, "Your pussy is wet, isn't it? You can't deny to me how wet you are right now."

She again shook her head.

He again chuckled, amused by her denial, then provoked, "Prove me wrong." he took a deep breath, gripped his cock firmer, then encouraged, "Slip your fingers in your pussy and prove to me they won't be dripping wet."

She denied, "No, you sicko."

Again he chuckled, she was desperate to maintain her strength. "Fine," he said then heightened the determined strokes of his cock, "You'll just stand there while I cum."

He groaned with his lips grinning as his hand worked his cock into a steady pulse. His breaths became heavier as his eyes remained locked with hers. He read her struggle clearly within the blue of her eyes, knew she fought hard against the struggle to cave beneath his wiles.

He slammed his left hand against the door as he leveraged the other stroking his cock harder and quicker. His quickened breaths breathed against her lips. His hips shifted in rhythm to each firm stroke as his chest heaved and pressed against her slightly exposed tits.

She remained pinned against the door, felt his body steadily shift against hers and the motion of his cock stroking hand. Her body stiffened as her wide eyes were locked with his, he not once flinched within his determination to cum before her. She struggled to maintain her breaths, desperate to deny that in deed there was a slickness dampening the crotch of her red lace panties.

Before her eyes the lines between his brows deepened as a tense sneer formed across his lips. God, her brain screamed, he was positively gorgeous when he was about to cum!

He held his breath, felt his cock explode with a final firm stroke of his hand. He leaned against her as he feverishly stroked his finger against the pulse of his cock. He released his breath with a trembled groan.

Though he had cum many times in her honor throughout those months, that moment with her directly before him was far more gratifying.

She gave him a quick shove then quickly swung the door open and escaped. She darted to the right with a staggering step, her legs were beyond wobbly. Down the hall she hurried, wanted to get as far from him and anyone else as possible. She reached the adjacent doors at the end then shoved her way into the lady's room.

The door slammed and she leaned back against it with her breaths erratic. She softly whines for she knew she was beyond turned on. It was almost painful how badly she wanted to stop the throbbing between her trembling thighs.

Her hand twisted the bathroom door lock then she nearly stumbled from the door and moved to the single sink vanity. Her hands grabbed the edges of the sink as she desperately wanted to ignore that slick begging between her legs.

She groaned, "Damn him."

She suddenly grabbed the vanity cabinet door then bent down, reached inside and pulled out a box of small trash bags for the bathroom waste basket. Her face was twisted with desperation mingled with sexual frustration. Her hand gripped and with a jerk pulled a frosted plastic bag from the box.

Several months she not once played with plastic.

The box was tossed back under the sink and her eyes stared down at the temptation. Her fingers rubbed against the thin plastic as the sexual heat grew within the confines of her throbbing pussy.

"Fuck it!" she snapped.

Her hand swiftly jerked down the side zipper of her skirt. The skirt dropped to her ankles then she unraveled the plastic bag. Her breaths grew heavier heaving her chest. She swiftly pulled the plastic bag over her head then grabbed the back of it with her left hand and gathered the plastic until it was firmly pulled back over her face.

She groaned with intoxication as her head titled back. Her lips purposely gaped and she inhaled to only taste and feel the smooth plastic seal. Her free hand swiftly slipped passed the waist of her panties and buried her finger against her severely slick and swollen clit.

She grunted against the plastic the moment she feverishly worked her finger against her clit. Her hips eagerly shifted as her middle finger tormented and teased her clit. Her left hand tightened her grip of the bag, pulled the plastic, nearly flattening the features of her face.

Grunt after grunt she panted against the plastic which didn't budge in its firmly tightened paste over her face. Her mind was completely consumed by the suffocation and her pussy's pleasure combined. The growing air starvation in her chest heightened the rising pleasure from her pussy. Her finger stroked and stroked against her clit. Her eyes tightly closed with focus and determination.

With purpose, she slowed the teasing of her clit, made herself continue to suffocate longer and harder. She grunted with high pitched whines as the slow torment of her clit raised the pleasurable build. Grunt after grunt, her pussy built and built those heavenly layers as her head jerked against the plastic bag.

Slower she forced her finger as the suffocation intensified. She purposely probed the tip of her tongue against the plastic seal, loved the feel of the tight plastic preventing a single breath. She felt her pussy rapidly pulse as her hips slowly shifted.

A final slow stroke against her clit and her pussy powerfully exploded in a manner she hadn't felt in all those months.

Her hand drew back from within her panties and grabbed the sink vanity for leverage. She continued to hold the bag in place as her entire pussy fluttered with intense pulses.

Finally she released the bag then pulled it from over her head. She leaned against the sink as she heavily breathed. Her eyes shifted and looked at her severely flushed reflection.

She panted, "Damn him."