Page 40 of The Client
“Mm,” I whimper desperately, pushing myself into his hand.
“You don’t come until I say so, do you understand?” he growls in my ear.
“Yes,” I pant.
With a low chuckle, he tugs my panties to the side and slips two fingers inside me. I widen my legs even farther, giving him full access. He pumps slowly at first, working his fingers deeper and deeper into me, and then begins thrusting harder and faster. My pulse is racing, my hips jerking as I meet every push of his fingers. It feels so good I stop worrying about the driver and let myself get carried away with my moans.
“That’s my good little whore,” Rhys whispers.
He cups my breast with one hand while stroking me with the other, and I can feel his hard cock digging into my ass through the fabric of his pants. The mix of sensations quickly has me turning into a gasping, needy mess. As if sensing the orgasm I can feel coming on, Rhys slides his fingers out and switches his attention to my clit.
This man knows exactly what he’s doing. Exactly how to roll his fingers around the swollen nub, when to squeeze, when to tap, when to ease off. I roll my hips faster, seeking more pressure, more pleasure. My wetness is all over Rhys’s hand, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems to be toying with me even more aggressively.
Every part of my body is tingling, on fire. My cries become louder, more guttural. The modest part of my brain knows the driver can hear me, but even though my cheeks heat with shame, I don’t do anything to stop what Rhys is doing.
I don’t want him to stop.
I’m lost in the feel of his fingers, in the rush of the pleasure. Nothing else matters. Grabbing his wrist, I hold him steady as I work myself against him, my release hovering oh so close but just out of reach. He lets me guide him, lets me rub myself against his hand, pump my hips. His soft moans flutter against the sensitive skin on my neck. I’m so close…so damn close.
And then Rhys pulls his hand away.
With a yelp, I grab for him, my center throbbing. I’m right at the edge, my knees weak. But he laughs and pushes me off him, guiding me onto my knees on the carpeted floor.
“I didn’t say you could come, did I?” he says. “ButIcan.”
He unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, fat and thick and ready.
“Suck me off, Izabela,” he says, pumping himself up and down. “Show me you’re grateful for the pleasure.”
I move in closer, pulling my braid behind my head and licking my lips in preparation. It doesn’t escape me that I’m sitting here at his feet, almost completely naked, while he remains dressed. Just another way he’s asserting his power over me. But I have power, too. I’ve learned to enjoy the way he loses control of himself when I take him in my mouth.
Gripping the base of his cock, I look up at him as my lips hover just over the tip. Passing lights flash into the car and I see the strain and anticipation on his face.
Slipping him between my lips, I take him all the way to the back of my throat, until the fabric of his pants tickles my lips. He groans loudly and I feel a rush of triumph. I’m not the only one the driver might hear. It makes me feel better.
Rhys digs his fingers into my hair and tugs, just enough to make my scalp tingle. It’s something I’m coming to love. Does he realize that I like it when he’s rough with me? I’ve noticed that even when he talks to me in that cold, detached way, he still looks satisfied when I get off. He likes using me, but he always makes sure I feel good, too.
He swells in my mouth, his hips thrusting so violently that I know my lips will bruise. I relax my jaw even more and take it all, bobbing my head in time with each thrust. When he releases down my throat, I take that too, swallowing down every last drop as I look up at him, watching his face in the shadows. His eyes are narrowed, his expression impassive. Without a word, he zips himself up and turns away from me.
I pull my dress back on and fold my hands in my lap, silently taking in the view of the city outside the window.
Maybe Rhys thinks he was punishing me by having me suck him off in the back of the car, in nothing but my thong…but the truth is, it was no punishment at all.
Because when it comes to being Rhys McConnell’s whore, I can’t seem to get enough.
15
IZABELA
“Finally,something interesting and mysterious is happening here.”
This is the first time I’ve called my sister in weeks. Normally, we talk on Saturday mornings (evenings for her, since Zamosc is seven hours ahead), but ever since the auction, I’ve been skipping our calls.
It’s been easy enough to lie to her in my texts and emails, pretending I’ve been extra busy with work, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid my sister forever. And I also knew that if Eva heard my voice, she’d instantly intuit that something was wrong. Which is why I’ve been dreading this call. That girl has a knack for squeezing the truth out of me. Even though she’s only fourteen, she’s always been perceptive and wise beyond her years.
Perhaps it’s because she had to grow up so fast after our parents died, just like I did. Or maybe it was living with a chronic illness that did it. Pain has a way of maturing you either way.
“And what would that be?”
