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You stood on your tippy toes atop the stool, fingertips just barely grazing the box you needed. Huffing a frustrated sigh, you debated a little hop, thinking over how likely it was you'd fall. You probably would.
The box of snow globes taunted you, if you grabbed the box and fell, they might break. You balanced on one leg, slowly bringing the other up to set the tip of your shoe on one of the shelves, just a little bit more and you'd be able to grab it.
The sudden scrape of your foot against the wood paired with a rusty groan from the stool below you startled you more than anything. You tumbled backwards, but you didn't fall far due to a pair of strong arms wrapping around your middle, "Woah!" The unmistakable voice of your boss, Mr. Pines, was right near your ear.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Stan-""
As soon as you were stable on your feet you worriedly spun around to face him, shaking your hair out of your face.
"Y'almost cracked your head open, kid, what're you sorry for? You okay?" Stan asked, eyes quickly scanning you up and down for injuries.
"No, yeah, I'm fine. Thank you, I was just getting the.." You gestured to the large box up on the top shelf, and in a moment Stanley had reached up and just grabbed it for you. You suppressed the moody huff from seeing the man do so easily what you had been attempting for 10 minutes.
You thanked him quietly again, reaching out to take the box from him but he pulled it away from you, "I've got it, it's heavy, where do you want 'em?"
Taken aback for a moment, you managed, "Just on the counter is fine." You could tell your face was getting hot, but couldn't pinpoint why. You hoped you didn't look too flushed.
Stan turned back from the counter to you and paused, cocking his head a bit to the side, "You sure you're not hurt? You're all flushed, kid." A smallest hint of a smirk made itself known at the corner of his lips, gone as fast as it had come.
You could still feel the ghost of his arms around your waist, his firm chest against your back. Holy shit, did you have a crush on your boss?
"Oh, 're you embarrassed 'cause I didn't think you could lift the box? Sorry, I just figured-" "No! No, it's just hot in here. I appreciate it, Stan, really. Thanks." Your voice wavered in a way you would rather it hadn't as you watched the smirk come back to his face.
You cleared your throat and continued, "I've just gotta get these unpacked for the sale." You brushed past him and pulled your box cutter out, slicing the tape and pulling open the box.
"The sale doesn't start 'til next week, kid."
You bristled, flustered, "I know. I just like to stay ahead of the curve, makes things easier.."
"Mmhm." Stan hummed, only a little bit condescending in a way that made you want to press your thighs together. You kept your eyes on the box in front of you but you could practically feel his gaze on your back.
"It really is hot in here, ain't it?" You turned to comment that at least it wasn't summer, but all words stopped dead in your throat when you saw he'd taken his suit jacket off, left in his slacks and a tight-fitted white tee.
You tried to catch a glance at the thick, strong muscles of his arms without being too obvious, and failed miserably. God, for an older man he looked fucking good, and how tussled his hair looked after he knocked the fez off of his head to place it down with the jacket made you weak.
"Ain't no customers coming in this late anyways, no need for the get-up, y'know, toots?" You were frozen, managing a nod of agreement as he took a step towards you. The way he looked down at you, you felt like a rabbit being stalked by a wolf. But unlike a rabbit, the thought of getting caught by Stan excited you.
"Say, you up for a game, sweetheart? Shift's almost over."
Your eyes widened, and though you wanted to scream fuck yes, you settled on, "I'm intrigued. What kinda game?"
Stanley grinned, still creeping toward you slowly with his teeth glinting in the fluorescent light as he spoke, "A bit like hide 'n seek." You huffed a laugh and couldn't resist the urge to tease, "Hide and seek, Stan? Are we in grade school?"
The chuckle he let out was rough and went right through you, your head craned all the way back to look up at him as he came to settle his front right up against yours.
His toned abdomen was up against your chest, your heartbeat so erratic you feared he might be able to feel it. The buckle of his belt bit through the cushion of your shirt and pressed into your stomach. When he spoke again you felt it more than you heard it, "No, babe, my game's much more mature." The double entendre caused your skin to prickle with goosebumps despite the heat radiating off of him.
"Mature?" You echoed, though you very much understood what he meant. "Yeah, some would say.. primal, even." Shit, maybe your thought about the rabbits and wolves was truer than you'd thought.
Your eyes drifted from his face to his neck, admiring the strong jawline he had. Your gaze continued to trickle down his arms, focusing on the strength in them and stopping on any tattoos that were peeking out. You hadn't noticed them before, Stan almost never took off his jacket during business hours.
God, his arms. The very muscles you were busy drooling over flexed as he brought his hands up to the counter, caging you in with his body.
If he was trying to intimidate you, it was working. Your mind's eye flashed through every possible situation where he could use those arms to pin you down, hold you up, throw you over his shoulder.
It was too much, your thighs squeezed together and the weakest little whimper left you at the spark of friction it gave. "Stan, please.." Hearing his name from your lips, your voice all broken like that, Stan groaned low and deep.
He went from half-mast to fully hard in a moment, the throbbing of his cock was something he could no longer ignore. "Please, what? Hm, sweetheart?" He grumbled, his head falling to nose into your hair. The smell of your shampoo was driving him crazy.
"You want me to spread those pretty legs and shove myself between 'em, hm? You all riled up, sweets, hot 'n bothered from checking me out? Are you thinkin' about everything you want me to do to you?"
Overwhelmed was an understatement for how you felt, his dirty words that muddled your brain along with the throbbing of your neglected clit underneath all of your layers of clothes proved you a whining mess already. That was all the answer Stan needed.
His calloused hands slid from the counter to your ass, pawing hard enough to make you yelp. Your hips bucked up into his, and you couldn't tell if you were trying to get away from him or get closer.
"You need a big strong man to come pin you down, stretch you open? Hm? I'd take such good care of you, honey. Give you everything you need, fuckin' promise," He punctuates his lewd promise by effortlessly picking you up by your ass, your legs rushing to wrap around his waist, arms flying out to meet around his neck, he laughed.
"Relax babe, I've gotcha,-" You cut him off with a kiss, hungry and frantic. He reciprocated with just as much vigor, smirking into the kiss as he squeezed your ass again.
When you broke apart he stayed with his forehead pressed to yours, panting into your mouth, "God, you're such a fuckin' tease, sweetheart. Need to get my cock in you soon or I'll go feral." You hummed against his lips, "Feral sounds like something I might enjoy."
He growled in response, nipping at your bottom lip. You moaned softly, uncrossing your ankles and arching your back. His echoing groan rumbled against your throat, "Pretty young thing like you, knew I needed to have you. I thought about how pretty you'd look crying on my cock, every time you bent over for the bottom shelf, when you wear those little tank tops in the summer."
He groans at the memory, reaching between you to squeeze his bulge lightly and relieve some pressure. It was then that you wriggled out of his grasp, landing clumsily on your feet, dodging him when he reached for you again. He raised an eyebrow at you quizzically before you started to strip, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it at him playfully.
"Didn't you say something about hide and seek?" You asked, taking a step backwards. He ran his tongue over his teeth for a moment, looking you up and down, "Sure did, babe. But I'll have you know, I will find you. And I don't play nice." His words only excited you more, you slowly inched toward the door that connected the shack to the rest of the house.
You saw something in his eyes change as he watched you, analyzing your every move how a predator would. You felt a wave of adrenaline rush over you as you bolted through the open door, stumbling through the living room and into the hallway.
You didn't hear him chasing you immediately, assuming he's giving you a headstart because if it was really a race, you wouldn't stand a chance. Skidding to a stop, you were torn between looking for a hiding place in the kitchen or bolting up the stairs. Quickly deciding stairs were the way to go, you ran up the stairs as quietly as you could manage. Deciding to ditch your pants, you quickly shucked them off and left them on the floor where they fell.
Every door in the hallway was closed except one, so it made sense in your lust and adrenaline drunk mind to dart into there. You found yourself in a bedroom that smelled of smoke and cologne, and before it had registered that you were in Stan's bedroom the sound of heavy footsteps downstairs sent you into a panic.
You scrambled into the room fully, dropping to the floor and ignoring the throb between your thighs as you crawled under the bed. Not the most original hiding place, you admit, but the thumping of boots taking the stairs two at a time spurred you into fight or flight.
Thoughts of everything he could do to you caused a little whimper to escape you, and you pressed your hand over your mouth. Like any skilled hunter, that was all that he needed.
The bedroom door opened, Stanley let out a gravelly chuckle, "The bedroom, sweetheart? Awful convenient ain't it?"
Though you knew there was likely no use, you stayed silent. Your heartbeat in your ears sounded like thunder and your buried your face in your hands to try and calm the burning of your face.
The yelp you let out was muffled by your hand as Stan grabbed your ankle, his grip bruising. He did say he doesn't play nice, after all. Your nails dug into the carpet as he pulled you out with a hard tug, blunt nails clawing up your legs to try and find purchase on your hips.
"God, you're so fuckin' wet right now. I can see how much you want me, honey. You're just dripping with it." He caught you off guard by leaning down and licking a stripe up your clothed cunt, causing you to squeal. His hands were now clawing at your panties, pulling them down to expose you to his hungry gaze.
He landed a hard slap on your ass, you let out breathy whimper from the combination of pain and the fact that he slipped his hand down between your thighs afterwards, rubbing over your folds and deliberately brushing your clit.
You keened back toward him, spine arching in a way that pulled a short little groan of appreciation from Stan. Suddenly his hands retreated to your thighs, the breath being knocked out of you as he rammed his hips into yours, effectively pinning you underneath the bed, your thighs held spread in his vice grip as he ground his clothed erection into your exposed, slick cunt.
The way you cried out Stan's name nearly had him creaming his pants like a teenager. He ground his teeth as he pulled himself away from you to admire the dark, wet patch now at the front of his pants.
"Oh, sweetheart, you need it bad, don'tcha? You like this, being pinned down so you can't move? So you don't have any choice but to take it?" Your head was swimming and suddenly you were grateful for the weight of the bedframe on top of you.
Just the sound of his zipper was enough to make you push your ass back toward him, your sopping cunt fluttering around nothing. It felt as if every second that passed without him inside you was a tragedy.
The moment you felt the blunt head of his cock nudge at your entrance you nearly passed out, contemplating if this was actually real life. The warm metal of a Prince Albert ground into you, the sensation unlike anything you had ever felt before. A shudder wracked your body, you had barely a moment to process before he was pushing into you.
The barbell was a foreign but not unwelcome feeling against your walls. You wheezed out a moan, the breath stolen from your lungs as you were stretched. He didn't stop until he was buried in you to the hilt, the head of his cock resting dangerously close to your cervix. You breathed through the pain as you waited for the burn of the stretch to wear off. All discomfort was completely forgotten the moment Stan's fingers seek out your clit, rough pads swiping over delicate nerves.
You bucked back into his hold, back digging against the bedframe as you grasped at the carpet. He didn't let up, drinking in your whimpers and as you clenched around him, his jaw tightened. A deep groan was pulled from his chest as he looked down to see your essence dripping down your thighs and soaking into his clothes.
"Such a good fuckin' girl for me, god, you're so tight, honey-! Oh, your pussy's fuckin' perfect, sweetheart."
The whine you let out at the compliment was pathetic, and made Stan realize just how much he wanted to see your expression. With no warning and without pulling out of you, he maneuvered you out from under the bed and situated it so that you were splayed out on your back for him on the bed.
The change in position had his prince albert rubbing up against your g-spot and the intense stimulation made you cry out, an orgasm completely blindsiding you. You writhed on his cock as you came, practically sobbing as he began to fuck you through it.
Stan was already addicted to the way your cunt was trying to milk him, combined with the look on your face? He never stood a chance.
His hands were now on your thighs, strong fingers groping soft flesh as he pulled them as far apart as they would go and then some, the strain in your muscles was worth the new angle as he hooked your legs over his shoulders and bent you in half.
The new pace of his thrusts was brutal, the animalistic urge to just rut into you like his life depended on it had won over Stan's brain. You barely had a second to breathe between moans, you couldn't tell if you were about to have a second orgasm or if the first had never truly ended, but with the amount of pure pleasure you were swimming in you couldn't help but drown in it.
Your vision swam as you came, your nails digging into the skin of Stan's bicep as your walls tightened around him again. Fuck, if you kept this up Stan wasn't going to last. His mind kept wandering to how soft you were, how fucking pretty you looked squirming under him, how powerful he felt as if you truly were a trembling little prey animal in his grasp. He leaned forward, pinning you under his weight as he began to nip at your neck.
You felt his snarls and growls before you heard them, a deep rumbling in his chest. You arched your back and craned your head to expose more of your throat to him, you'd give him the pleasure of ripping your throat out if that's what he wanted in that moment. You gasped at the hot, wet length of his tongue licking a stripe up your neck, tracing over the trail of love bites he had left.
Looking down at his hands pressed into your thighs, it was the dazed look on your face and thought of how pretty you'd look all bruised up and fucked out after that tipped him over the edge. His pacing stuttered and he buried himself as deep into your cunt as he could, needing to feel your searing heat around him as he emptied himself into you.
You cried out Stan's name with a breathy moan as you were filled to the brim, and drunkenly felt him press open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your leg, moaning against your skin.