“I have,” I say, still shaken with adrenaline. I fiddle with my necklace, then slip it into my purse. When she looks at the bottle on the table in between us, I pour her a glass and hand it to her. She doesn’t thank me, and I don’t expect her to. Taking a sip, she lets her eyes roam over me again, then settles her gaze on my heels. The fire I see in her eyes tells me she almost let her guard down for a split second. It also tells me she has a thing for high heels.
“Stand up,” she says then, taking back control. Her casual tone makes me think she does this all the time, and I wonder how many women she’s had in her thrall before me. Hundreds? Does she do this every night? Pick someone who looks desperate enough to do what she wants because she gives so much satisfaction in return? I’m not sure of anything anymore but do as I’m told anyway, because how could I not? It’s what I’m here for; I want to please her, simply because it excites me.
“Take off your dress. Leave the rest on.”
My hands tremble as I pull down the side zipper, then slowly slide the dress over my hips and step out of it. I feel exposed but my confidence grows when she shifts in her chair, unable to hide her desire. I know she wants me and that’s the greatest turn-on of all. Feeling wanted like this… I didn’t know what it was like but now I thrive on it, need it.
The lace fabric of the black wireless bra I’m wearing is so thin that it’s sheer and I know my hard nipples are clearly visible as I stand before her. My matching Brazilian hipster panties cover only a third of my ass, and the thought of having her hands on it soon makes me twitch.
“Come here.” She pats her thigh and puts her glass down as I walk over, then straddle her lap. I hold my breath, aroused beyond control at being so close to her again. I shiver when her hands trace my heels, stroking them as if they’re a fine art object. Then she rakes her hands along my legs and my hips before settling on my waist, and I wrap my arms around her neck as I lean in to kiss her. One of her hands moves into my hair, the other down to my ass, squeezing it hard while she pulls me closer and parts my lips with hers. Her tongue claims my mouth, and I moan into the kiss. Fuck. No one has ever kissed me so possessively before. No one has ever come close to what she does to me, how she makes me feel. It’s crazy. She brushes her thumb over my nipple and when I gasp and arch my back, letting her know I need more, she yanks down one strap of my bra, exposing my left breast. Her hungry mouth closes over my hard nipple and it’s deliciously warm and wet as her tongue circles around it, driving me wild. I cry out in surprise when she bites down on the spongy tip, just hard enough to hurt, and thrust my hips forward as my head falls back. She pulls my bra down entirely and turns her attention to my other breast, biting even harder this time. It hurts and as I’m balancing on that perfect edge of pain and pleasure I never knew existed, I never want her to stop.
“Fuck!” I scream and close my eyes.
“Do you like that?” She asks.
“Uhuh.” I want to say more, encourage her to go on, but I’m silenced by another tug of her teeth. Riding her lap, I thrust into her as she feasts on me and I actually think I’m going to lose all sense of control. Her hand on my backside moves to the front, in between my spread thighs. She roughly pulls my panties to the side and, as if I know what’s coming, I brace myself for the mind-blowing flash of delight that inevitably radiates into every part of my body when I feel her fingers running through my aroused folds. She lazily traces her fingers up and down, then settles on my clit, the sensation making me gasp in ecstasy.
“I love how wet you are,” she hisses in my ear as she slides a finger inside me. “It feels so fucking good.”
“Only for you,” I whisper, and it’s true. I lift my hips and gasp when she adds another. Lowering myself onto her fingers, I’m trembling all over as she fills me up and again, there’s that smile that strikes me deep in my core.
“Good girl.”
I shake my head at the irony of that statement because it’s clear that I’m not as good as I thought I was. She moves with me as I ride her fingers, faster and deeper. When her teeth start tugging at my nipples again, I know I’m going to come harder than I ever have. Her arm around my back holds me up because my muscles are giving up on me now. A sharp stich of pain, then wave after wave of euphoria wash over me as I clench around her dexterous fingers and tense up in her grip. The throaty sound that escapes me doesn’t sound like me, but I don’t even attempt to hold it in. It feels liberating to let it out, to release something that’s been buried so deep for so long. I feel dizzy and realize I must remember to breathe. When I open my eyes and look at her, her fingers are still inside me and although I want them to stay there forever, she slowly retracts her hand. There’s something in her gaze that looks pretty close to tenderness, but I tell myself it’s just in my head. Still, I kiss her softly, and when I feel her hand cupping my cheek, I know I wasn’t mistaken.
6
“Tell me something about yourself.” We’re still in the same chair and I’m sitting on her lap, my legs flung over one arm and my elbows behind me resting on the other, when she asks the question that takes me by surprise. Her hand is in my hair, twirling my blonde locks around her fingers. It seems strange for her to want to know something personal about me, considering how private she is herself.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I’m curious.” She trails a finger down my neck and over my shoulder and the light touch makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“I’m curious about you too.” I tilt my head and lock my eyes with hers. “But that still won’t get me anywhere, will it?”
“I know. I’m sorry I can’t talk about myself, but you intrigue me, Emily, and so I’d like to know more about you. This perfectly controlled front you put on is such a contrast to how free you are with me. Sexually, I mean…” She pauses. “And I get a feeling that’s new to you, which intrigues me even more.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve figured me out all on your own,” I say with a little sarcasm running through my voice. If she’s not giving anything away, why should I?
She shrugs, amused by my reply. “I could try, if you want?”
“Fine. Try me.” I lean back and wait for her to make her first mistake. She doesn’t seem like a person who makes mistakes but I’m not exactly an open book and there’s no way she can read me. My grandmother used to worry I was borderline psychopath when she was still alive, as I rarely show signs of emotion. Although I always dismissed her concerns, I still thought about it a lot over the years and have come to the conclusion that I’m simply a closed person, who only cares about a few things and people in life. If that makes me cold, then so be it. One thing is certain; I’m far from cold when I’m with her, and it’s almost scary how she makes me feel like I’m on fire whenever she as much as looks at me.
“I’d say your upbringing was conservative, perhaps to the extreme. Religious?”
“Hmm…” I fall silent for a moment after her first guess is spot on. “Yes, it was. Both conservative and religious. But not in a bad way.”