She was my plaything.
Her thighs opened wider as she welcomed me exploring her wet folds with a delicate touch, her tender clit throbbing as my index finger brushed along the nub.
“Hold yourself like this.” Taking her hands, I had her ease back her labia. “That way I can do this.”
Smack! I tapped her clit.
She flinched and gave me a look of shock.
“Do I have your attention?”
She gave a frantic nod.
“Again,” I demanded.
Her breaths were panicked and her eyelids heavy, but she obeyed, reaching low and pulling back her labia.
This time, I slid down onto my knees on the floor of the car and leaned in between her thighs. “Make no mistake,” I said fiercely. “This is not me bowing before you. This is me giving you what you deserve. Am I making myself clear?”
A subtle nod.
I planted kisses up and along her left thigh and when I almost reached her pussy, I moved my attention to her other knee, causing her entrance to pucker in a rhythm of want.
“Play with your nipples.”
She placed her fingertips at her breasts and tweaked the buds just like I had, mimicking the way I’d teased her.
“Harder,” I demanded.
She obeyed my command like a well-trained bottom, twiddling her areola with verve.
“Continue like that,” I demanded.
Her clit swelled at its tip at the first touch of my tongue. I thrummed it delicately at first, and then more insistently before dipping into her entrance just enough to make her gasp.
God, she’d be tight when I entered her, sheathing my erection like a vice, hungry and needy, with her selfish cunt clinging to my full length. I’d be balls deep soon and thrusting if I didn’t slow this down.
I lavished her pussy until her breath hitched and she neared the edge over my feasting. I tasted her sweet juices, devouring and plundering every crevice; savoring what was mine.
I peered up at her. “Tweak your nipples to the same rhythm as my tongue, understand?”
She gave a nod and her eyelids became heavy; dark lashes flickering, her jaw slack as she followed my command and played with her nipples to the same beat as my flicking tongue. Swirling in a circle as wide as it was slow, I could feel her clit swell and harden, its response pleasing.
This was my privilege, to perform cunnilingus as many times a day as I desired, wherever we were, in any setting.
Beneath my touch she came alive, rocking her pelvis. My hand reached down and felt her toes, delighted to find they were curling—proving she was close to coming.
I continued to lick her clit as my hands reached up and nudged hers away from her breasts, taking over playing with her tits. I wanted her to relax so she could savor her climax as the luxurious gift it was.
I devoured her sex as only an obsessed master can.
Her body stiffened as an intense trembling stretched all the way through her body. She climaxed long and hard, her deep-throated groaning revealing her pussy was truly possessed by me.
Her cries became panicked at the intensity of her never-ending orgasm.
My mouth let her down slowly, lapping at her until she was seemingly boneless and breathless. She slid down the seat a little, dazed and gasping for air.
She looked over at me, unable to hide the pleasure she’d enjoyed, her blue eyes bright and her smile dreamlike.
I pushed myself up.
Subs deserved after-care no matter the treatment, but Pandora hadn’t earned the right to wear the necklace.
I sensed that much was true.
It had been the way she’d followed my every move as though seeing it for the first time. She’d been mesmerized by each shift in movement, each lap or kiss, and each suckle.
Grabbing my necktie from where it lay on the seat, I weaved it around my shirt collar until it hung from my neck and then twisted it into neatness.
With that done, I eased her breasts back into the cups of her bra and pulled down her gown, ensuring her hem was over her legs to hide what I’d done to her.
All in silence.
All done with the precision of a master who was merely warming up.
With a push of a button on the console, I lowered the glass divider exposing us to the driver once more. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check on us and then turned his focus back to the road.
Fucking her before we reached the house was still a possibility. If she opened her big mouth again. If she made one complaint.
We were ten minutes away.
Enough time to get my heart rate below sixty. I fished around in my pocket for my smartphone.
My cock was rock hard.
“You may wear these again.” I handed the thong to her.
Pandora discreetly slipped her underwear on with the endearing shakiness of a novice.
Popping in my earbuds, I tapped the music app on my phone and selected Puccini’s Madam Butterfly, letting the agony of the soprano flow through my soul. I stared dead ahead, getting myself in the mood for when we reached home and I could torture the truth out of her.
The pleasure to come would be sublime.
This was the kind of progress I’d given up on.
Finally, I was standing inside Damien’s Foxhall home, despite our argument at the St. Regis an hour ago. We’d been tentatively dating for six months and in one brave move, I’d leaped all the way here to his private sanctuary.
His kitchen, to be exact.
This…the transformative effect of a simple pendant.
I’d also dragged him away from the event. There’d probably be repercussions for that later. The polls would be closing in just over three weeks, so every event mattered. Time was too valuable to waste.
I studied him now, in case that exact fact might have pissed him off, but I couldn’t read his expression.
I set my purse down on a barstool, my gaze shifting to the wide windows that would welcome the light in during the day. The dark wood paneling of the room complemented the open floor plan. Every time Damien took me to one of his homes, I dived deeper into his world and got to see another side to this mysterious man.
God, I still felt tingles down there.
Still reeling from what he’d done to me in the car, I reminded myself why I was here—not to have him overpower me, but for me to keep the upper hand.
Wandering over to his kitchen table, I looked down at what appeared to be architectural designs. “What’s this?”
“The Fairfield Project.” He walked over and folded them, his body language changing as he gathered them up protectively.
Watching him carefully, I asked. “Can you tell me more about it?”
He turned to face me. “Want a drink?”
“No, thank you.” I slipped off my high heels seductively, grateful for the feeling of relief.
He leaned back against the wall and watched me take in the décor of the home he’d never before brought me to—because I’d always been a token and nothing more.
“Well?” he said, interrupting my musing.
“It’s beautiful.” I looked at him. “Do you have any staff?”
“No.” He shrugged. “A housekeeper. Once a week.”
“You cook?”
“Yes, Pandora, I am not helpless like some people we know.”
“Funny.” I looked around the kitchen, impressed with its simplicity. “I like it a lot.”
“I’ve been told I should sell it. The Secret Service hates all this glass. I have a wall around the property, but drones, you know. They can fly over.”