Taming the Dragon

The banquet hall of the Golden Dragon restaurant roared with corporate party noise. Lisa, in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline, caught Ignat's eye—a regular customer sitting at a table with a bottle of whiskey. She brought him appetizers, feeling his gaze slide over her collarbones, linger on the cut of her dress. When she set a plate of oysters in front of him, he asked quietly:

"You know dragons love gold and girls in black, right?"

Lisa smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So I'm in danger?"

"Deadly," he nodded at the empty chair next to him. "Sit down. The boss isn't looking."

She glanced around—the manager had gone to the kitchen. She slid onto the chair, feeling her thigh brush against his knee under the tablecloth. Ignat poured her champagne, his fingers covering her hand for a moment.

"I have a toast," he said, looking into her eyes. "To the bravest girls who aren't afraid to play with fire."

"I'm not afraid," Lisa breathed, feeling heat spread through her belly.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her wrist, just above the pulse. His tongue slid across her skin—wet, hot. Lisa's breath caught. Under the table, his hand landed on her knee, crept up her stocking, hitching the hem of her dress.

"Ignat..." she whispered, squeezing her thighs together, but he was already spreading them with his fingers.

"Shh. Just look at me and keep quiet."

She gripped the edge of the table as his hand dove under the lace of her panties. His fingers slid along her wet slit, found her clit. Lisa bit her lip to keep from moaning as he started rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

"So wet..." his voice was a hoarse whisper. "You like taking risks?"

"Yeah..." she exhaled, feeling his fingers push inside—first one, then two.

He moved them in a steady rhythm, pressing against that sweet spot. Lisa barely breathed, clutching the tablecloth. Guests around them laughed, clinked glasses, no one saw her hips trembling under the table.

"Cum on my fingers," he ordered almost silently. "Now."

She let out a choked sob, arching in her chair as the orgasm hit her from below, spreading hot weakness through her legs. Ignat pulled his wet fingers out, licked them clean, never breaking his heavy gaze.

"Let's go. I want you for real."

Lisa stood up, feeling her panties sticking unpleasantly to her skin. He took her hand, led her past the smoking coworkers to a door marked "Staff Only." In the hallway, he pressed her against the wall, grinding his whole body into hers, kissing her deep and hungry, his tongue tracing her teeth.

"The director's office is empty," he breathed into her neck, biting her skin. "The guard has the key."

A minute later they were standing in the dark office with a leather couch. Ignat switched on the desk lamp—dim light fell on her dress, on his unzipped fly.

"Get on your knees," he said, pulling out his cock—hard, the head wet.

Lisa knelt, feeling the carpet dig into her knees. She took him in her mouth, slow, teasing the tip of her tongue along his frenulum. Ignat exhaled, threading his fingers through her hair.

"Deeper... yeah..." he guided her head, pushing down her throat.

She gagged but didn't stop, until he froze, gripping the back of her head.

"Enough, or I'll cum too soon."

He pulled her up, turned her face-down over the desk, bent her over. Her dress rode up, revealing her wet panties. Ignat pulled them down, ran his finger along her slick slit, spreading her wetness.

"So ready..." he pressed the head against her entrance, pushed in slowly, almost torturously.

Lisa arched, gripping the edge of the desk. He went deep, stretching her, filling her completely. Each thrust echoed in her belly, her chest, her fingertips.

"Yeah... more..." she moaned.

"Quiet," he clamped his hand over her mouth, speeding up. "They'll hear."

She muffled cries into his palm, feeling his cock pound into her again and again, his balls slapping against her clit. The wet sounds, the smell of sex and sweat. She was close to cumming again, but he suddenly pulled out, spun her around, sat her on the couch.

"Ride me," he ordered, lying back.

Lisa straddled him, guiding his cock inside. She sank down, all the way to the hilt. Ignat gripped her hips, setting the rhythm. She bounced on him, head thrown back, her dress slipping off her shoulder, her tits spilling out of her bra cups. He caught her nipples with his mouth, sucked, bit.

"I'm close..." she breathed, feeling that tight knot building inside.

"Go ahead," he thrust up harder, deeper. "Cum on my cock."

She cried out—short, choked, burying her face in his neck. Waves of contractions squeezed his cock, and Ignat arched, flooding her with hot spurts.

They lay there for a few minutes, breathing hard. Lisa felt his cum trickling down her thigh. She laughed—quiet, exhausted.

"You tamed the dragon," he whispered, kissing her temple. "Now you're my treasure."