I'm back, baby! Here's a tasty little morsel for your Wednesday fix. The prompt: "Anyone ever tell you you're a Grade A _______?"
"Anyone ever tell you you're a Grade A bitch?"
Johnson had Kitty cornered in the kitchen of the dark restaurant. They were the only two there, left to finish cleaning and closing. She had the keys, she was his manager, and he was sick of her. She barely looked at him, gave him orders like he wasn't even a person. He was good at what he did, made the most tips and this piece of white trash came in and treated him like he was at the bottom of the foodchain, below the bus boys and dish washers.
Telling him to clean up a drink she'd spilled had been the last straw.
"I'm your boss, and you'll do what I say if you want to keep your job."
Her voice was stern, but her hard gaze faltered as Johnny forced eye contact. Her body language was tense, defensive as his own broad body threatened hers. But there was something else...a slight tremble in her limbs. His blue eyes narrowed.
"What's your deal?"
"I don't have a deal."
Johnson moved closer and placed his hands on either side of Kitty's head, backing her up until she hit the wall.
"You can't threaten me like this. You're fired," Kitty murmured, but all Johnson could focus on
was the intense heat radiating from her body.
"What's wrong with you?" He couldn't help but grin a little now. He had a feeling he knew what
the problem had been all along.
Kitty didn't respond.
"Fine, I'm fired. You're not my boss, and I'm not your employee. Was there something you
wanted to say to me?"
Kitty all but launched her lips into his, and before Johsnon knew it, he was unbuttoning the white blouse she wore and hiking up her black pencil skirt. He needed to get through those pantyhose. Her hand was reaching into the front of his pants now, and she grabbed a firm hold of his hard cock.
He ripped the netted material at her crotch and moved her tiny, silky thong aside. She wore too much makeup, her ample cleavage was always hanging out, but in this moment he loved all of it. He buried his face in her breasts, and she popped the buttons off of his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his chest underneath.
"Fuck me, Johnson," she purred.
He pulled her away from the wall and half-dragged her onto the counter, running his thumb over her clit, along her slit. She was already dripping, wanting him. She probably had been all night. So that was it. That was all this was. She just needed a good fuck.
"You on the pill or something?" he asked through ragged breathing.
"Yes." She grasped his hair in her hands, and forced his mouth to her neck.
Johnson used his thumb to keep the thong out of the way, and he entered her in one quick, smooth movement. Her muscles clamped down around him, spasmed with the same carnal pleasure that overtook his own senses. His thrusts were hard, rough, and she seemed to like it. Her moans were loud, reverberating through both of their bodies. Johnson tensed, trying to keep control. But as her moans became breathy gasps, then transformed into cries of pleasure, he knew he could let himself go. Kitty bucked against him, and he buried himself deep within her and shot hot sperm into her welcoming warmth.
When the spasms and heavy breathing subsided, Johnson pulled out and handed Kitty a rag.
"Your turn to clean up."
Kitty didn't bother to straighten her clothing as she wiped down the counter, giving him a scathing look as she did so.
"You fired me, remember?" He smirked.
She dropped the cum-covered rag into his hands.
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