Frank/Karen “you’re only allowed to sit there and watch until I tell you otherwise”
Karen's straddling his thighs, still wearing her black lace bra and matching panties. She'd been on a date tonight, some pencil-pusher she met at the office, and Frank lets himself feel a flush of pride that he's the one in her bed, the one who stripped her out of that little black dress and kissed away her perfectly applied lipstick. He hates that he can't be what she wants, but this-- This he can do.
Frank reaches up for her, but she catches his wrist and presses it back to into the pillow. "No touching. Not until I say."
He swallows hard, his dick twitching at the dark promise in her voice. "Yes, ma'am."
Karen climbs off the bed and undoes the clasp of her bra, letting it fall off her arms and onto the floor. He sits up and scoots toward the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard to get a better view. His palms itch to reach up and cup her firm breasts, to roll her nipples between his fingers until they pebble up and she's whining, but he grits his teeth and watches as she does it instead.
She slides one hand down, tracing the slight curve of her stomach and skittering over the front of her panties to tease herself over the thin cloth. "You like watching me, Frank?"
"God, yes." Like isn't a strong enough word for how he feels about watching her slide those panties down her long legs until they're a pool of black on the hardwood, but his brain is too focused on Karen to go digging through long-unused vocabulary lessons.
She laughs. "Good. I want you to watch me." Karen crawls back on the bed, settling herself in his lap, close enough that he can feel the damp heat of her against his dick. She starts fingering herself, her knuckles brushing the underside of his cock, and Frank has to grab the sheets to keep from reaching for her. She's fucking beautiful like this, her back arching as she chases her own orgasm, the ends of her long hair brushing against his legs. She comes with a quiet cry, her free hand digging into the meat of his thigh for balance, and he can't quite stop his hips from bucking up.
It takes her a moment to come back to herself, but Frank can be patient. Finally, she smiles down at him and wraps her wet fingers around his shaft, holding it in place so she can sink down onto it with a breathy moan. "You can touch me now," she says, with all the imperiousness of a queen, and Frank wastes no time reaching up to drag her in for a kiss. She moans into his mouth, but when he tries to deepen the kiss, to chase the last taste of after-dinner coffee from her mouth, she bites his lip. "Just because you can touch," she whispers, kissing away the sharp pain, "doesn't mean I'm not still in charge."
Frank's arousal spikes even higher and he settles his hands on the curve of her waist. She braces hers on his shoulders, and uses him for leverage to fuck herself on his cock. She goes slow at first, letting him feel every hot, slick inch of her. "You feel so good, so beautiful, god baby, you're perfect." Frank's aware he's talking, words spilling out too fast to catch them, but they only make Karen moan and fuck him harder. He keeps talking, telling her how hot she feels, how tight she is, how gorgeous and perfect and amazing she is, and when she comes this time, it's with his fingers on her clit and his name in her mouth.
She's a little dazed from her second orgasm, and Frank takes advantage, flipping her onto her back and thrusting back inside before she can recover. He's already close from feeling her come around him, so it doesn't take long before his motions go erratic and he's coming inside her, breathing her name into the curve of her neck.
"Asshole," she says, voice fond as she strokes his hair.
He laughs and kisses her before pulling out and flopping onto his back. "You like it."
Karen props herself up on one arm so she can look down at him. "Yeah, I do."