And I’m helpless against her wishes.
You’re making a real sacrifice here, Rochester.
I drop my head back in the armchair. “You’re too drunk.”
“And you’re not the boss. You don’t get to make the decision for me.”
She’s adorable. And technically incorrect. I am the boss. “We should wait.”
“So you can come up with more excuses?”
A bark of laughter. “I don’t need excuses not to touch you. God, look at you. In a T-shirt and jeans, looking more sexy and elegant than anyone else in the room.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it.”
She has a mouth on her, that’s for sure. I do enjoy her submission, but if she were only ever meek, it would not be enough. I like when she challenges me.
I take her small, delicate hand and put it on my throbbing cock. There are layers of cloth between her skin and mine, but pleasure still pulses through me. “This proof enough?”
She starts to slide off my lap, but I stop her. “Nope.”
An adorable pout. “I thought you liked it.”
“No, sweetheart. I fucking loved it, but we’re not doing that tonight.”
She bites her lip and strokes her hand along my cock. It may have been her first blowjob, but she learned fast. “I liked what we did before.”
“That was number three. We’re moving on to number four tonight.”
Her dark eyes hold the depth of the ocean. “What’s number four?”
“Get over there to the couch.”
She picks herself up off me and walks to the couch.
Then she sits there looking prim and a little nervous. This is what she would have looked like if she were local to me and had come over for an interview. This is how she looked in the video interview from the agency. I would like to say I didn’t imagine her sucking my dick while watching her talk about getting straight As, but that would be a lie.
I didn’t think it would actually happen, though.
“Take off your shirt.”
She pulls it over her head. None of the hesitation from last time. Maybe she’s getting comfortable with me. Or maybe she’s just drunk. I should put her to bed without touching her, but instead I’m going to make her feel good.
“Now your jeans.”
They fall to the floor. She stands there in her bra and panties, firelight licking at her bronze skin. I want to worship her. I want to ride her. She wakes every instinct in my body.
“Do you want this, Jane?”
A guileless gaze. “When I’m with you, I forget everything else.”
I laugh a little at myself, only internally. For wanting a different answer. For wanting something with me, Beau Rochester, son of a lobsterman, entrepreneur, playboy, and now uncle. Instead she wants release, and doesn’t she fucking deserve it? “Sit down and spread your legs.”
She does. It’s a little awkward, but that makes it sweeter.
I stand up. My leg puts up a strong protest. Agony streaks through me—not only the actual wound but through my entire body. I lean on the walking stick and make my way over to her. It’s inelegant in the extreme, the way I manage to kneel without blacking out from the pain.
None of that matters when I’m looking at her pussy.
It’s covered with her white underwear, which has gone damp.
“I think it did make you hot,” I tell her. “Oliver and Lucas touching you.”
“Maybe.” It’s a whispered confession.
“It’s okay. You have nothing to be ashamed about.” I’m the one who’s ashamed. For letting Zoey into this house, into my bedroom. For doing it to make Jane jealous. I didn’t fuck Zoey, but I let Jane think I did, and that’s the worst part. “They would have made you feel good. They’d have taken you back to their room and fucked you. They like it in both your pussy and your ass. Would you have given them that?”
She shifts on the leather, half uncomfortable, half turned on. “I don’t know.”
“You’d feel good in the moment. They’d make sure of that. Only after you’d be sore.” I tap on the placket of her panties. “You can, you know? You could have gone with them for the night. I don’t own this pussy. I don’t own your body.”
“It feels like you do.”
My cock flexes against my boxer briefs. It likes that idea. A lot. Tonight isn’t about my cock. “Yeah. You like being owned? Possessed? You like being told what to do?”
“Yes.” The word is almost a moan.
“You liked it when you had to rub your pussy on my shoe, didn’t you?”
“It was so wrong. So humiliating.”
“And it made you hotter than ever. Your mouth full of my cock. Your pussy juice covering my shoes. You were desperate to come, weren’t you? My good little nanny.”
I tug her panties down her legs and then push them apart. She’s so pink. So swollen. Fuck, she’d feel amazing around my cock. No. No, this is for her.
When I’m with you, I forget everything else. That’s what this is about.
Her bra covers her breasts. They’re not particularly large. Not particularly small. This middle size. This in-between that should be unremarkable. And yet, they’re perfect. A goddamn revelation. I push the fabric aside, so her breasts jut out. The bunched-up bra cups push her up, cup her the way my hands want to. I tweak her nipple, making her moan.
I press my face against the inside of her thigh. She jumps, still nervous about this.
“No one ever tasted you, did they?”
She already said she hadn’t given a blowjob, but it doesn’t mean for sure that no one did this. Her dark gaze holds mine while she shakes her head.
I’m the first. The only, some primal part of my brain demands. I spread her with my fingers, watching her open for me, petal by petal. She would have let me lick her pussy regardless of the alcohol. But she might not have done it in a room lit by lamps and fire. For that I have to thank, ironically, Zoey. I only let her plan this fucking dinner party because I was curious. Curious to see what Jane would make of my old friends. Curious to see what they’d make of her.
Turns out they want to fuck her. Funny, that it should bother me so much.
I give one long lick from base to top. It’s the warmup, but it’s so intimate, so delicious, that I groan. How am I going to last through this? My comfort doesn’t matter. My aching leg. My throbbing cock. None of it has anything to do with my tongue against her clit.
She sucks in a breath, her body rocking gently with desire.
I pull her hips to the edge of the couch so that I can lick her deep. I slide my tongue into her pussy and bite down gently on her outer flesh. She lets out a small keening sound. Then I push a finger inside—God, she’s tight. So swollen with arousal. I have to force my way in. I lick my way to her clit and then flutter my tongue over the sensitive bud.
It makes her ass come off the couch. She rocks against my face in urgent abandon. “Please, please, please.”
The way she begs makes me want to give her everything. I hold back. I could suck her clit and reach her G-spot and make her come right away. That would shortchange her. It wouldn’t make her forget everything, so instead I continue a soft flutter. I spell out words with my tongue. Beautiful, I tell her. Perfect. Mine. I write across her clit with soft swipes that make her thighs quiver. Her hands come to my hair, and she yanks. She yanks hard enough that it distracts me from my leg, and I grunt in satisfaction.