Page 18 of The Client
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed when they flutter open. “Yes.”
“Get on the bed,” I command, and then give her fair warning. “It’s going to hurt when I fuck you.”
Her eyes flash, but not with fear. With desire. For a second she doesn’t move, and then she crosses the room and lowers herself onto the bedspread. With one more glance my way, she lies flat on her back and looks up at the ceiling. She seems inexperienced, maybe a little afraid. All part of her act, I’m sure.
She’s good at playing innocent. The way she fumbled through that blow job almost convinced me she didn’t know what she was doing at first, but then it turned so, so good. It’s been a while since a woman has made me feel good. A hard orgasm always provides relief, but true pleasure doesn’t always accompany it. There’s a difference, one I’d forgotten about until her mouth flamed up those hot little sparks that curl at the base of my spine, and course through my brain. The pulses of ecstasy and surges of erotic pleasure have been missing for a while, no matter how many women I go through to try and find it.
Of course it would show up from the mouth of a woman my father gifted me.
Fuck.
Running a hand over my mouth, I kick out of my pants and rip off my shirt as I approach the bed. Huge eyes watch me advance. Flushed cheeks, red lips, heaving chest—everything about her is driving me insane. Oh, I’m going to use her good, until I’m completely spent. And then I’m going to use her again.
I step out of my pants and trunks, then take off my jacket and shirt as I approach the bed, tossing them onto a chair. The girl’s eyes rove my naked body as I advance. Her blue eyes are wide, her lips puffy from her oral exertions, her chest still rising and falling rapidly with excitement—even fully clothed, everything about her is driving me insane.
“Where did you learn to use your mouth like that?” I ask, leaning over her.
Digging my fingers into the waistband of her leggings, I pull down hard, panties and all, dropping the wad of clothing on the floor and leaving her bare from the waist down. Miles of legs, creamy skin, her thighs clenched together as if she can keep me from my prize.
At the foot of the bed, I cross my arms and give her a glare.
“Take your shirt off. Answer me while you do it.”
I’ve never seen cheeks redden so fast. But she obeys. She grabs the hem of her T-shirt and slowly, almost reluctantly, peels it over her head. The lacy white bra she’s wearing is so sheer, I can see her nipples through the fabric. Bright pink, like raspberries. My mouth waters.
“You haven’t answered me,” I say. “Do I need to repeat the question?”
“No. I just—”
Too late. I climb onto the bed and position myself over her face, my cock just inches away from those plush lips.
“Fine. I’ll give you a reason not to answer me. It’s hard to talk when your mouth is full.”
Reaching behind her head, I pull her toward me at the same time as I ram my dick back into her mouth. My eyelids close at the first touch of her wet, hot tongue. A choking sound escapes her but she adjusts quickly, suctioning my cock like her life depends on it. Digging my fingers into her hair, I pull until she winces, but I don’t let go.
Once she’s lubed me up well, I start to thrust. She matches my pace, sucking, pulling, licking like the pro that she is. I grab the headboard to steady myself, pumping back and forth, trying to forget where I am and who this is. All I want to focus on is pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s good,” I encourage her. The rise of her perfect ass makes a great view as I guide her head, moving her up and down on my cock exactly the way I need her to. Holding her head in place, I look down into her eyes and keep her still for a few seconds longer, reminding her who’s in charge here, and then slide out of her mouth. She gasps for air but doesn’t move, awaiting my next instruction.
“Move to the center of the bed.”
I shift to the side so she can scoot down, then rearrange myself over her with my knees between her legs. She’s still playing coy, giving me barely enough room to wedge myself between them. Placing my palms on the tops of her thighs, I run my hands down the supple length, reaching her knees and then wrapping my fingers around them.
She gasps as I push her legs apart wider, wider, opening up the sweet pussy that I own for the night. She’s breathing more heavily now, looking up at me wantonly with her hair splayed across the bedspread like pale silk. But I barely have time to register the lust in her expression, because I’m far more distracted by the prize at the apex of her thighs.
She’s waxed bare, the insides of her lips pink and glistening, her cunt juicy and ripe. The sight of her so vulnerable like this drives an almost mad desire inside me. My balls ache. Yet I’ve always been a sucker for self-torment, so I delay my gratification.
I press a knuckle against her soft pussy lips and stroke up and down, swirling her wetness from her opening to her clit. She pulls a ragged breath in every time I circle that tender nub. Eyes falling shut, she goes completely still except for the force of her breathing, as if she’s so focused on what I’m doing to her that she can’t respond to anything else.
I’ve barely touched her and she’s already primed to orgasm. Satisfaction washes over me. She’s so responsive, so easy.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes open.
“Is this what you want? You want me to touch your greedy little pussy until you come?”
I can see her weighing her response, her brows drawing together, trying to figure out what I want to hear. Trying to play the part for me, but unable to think of anything but what I’m doing to her.
