by Betty Paper
It was as though we’d been together a thousand times. He knew my body that well. I’d get to the crest of pleasure and he’d bring me back down again slowly, then rebuild it until I was panting and fumbling the keys again. He did this over and over.
“Henry, please,” I begged as the final chords of the song rang in the air. “Please.”
He lifted me up, pushing me down across the piano, making the keys clang discordantly. My breasts pressed against the cold edge of the piano and the keys bit into my thighs. The bench clattered somewhere behind us as he pressed me harder into the wood. His fingers probed me from behind and then I felt his member pushing at my entrance. I was so slick from his fingering that he slid into me beautifully right to the hilt.
Gripping my hips, he pounded into me. Never had I been taken so roughly or so thoroughly.
He came at me with everything he had. Before too long I gasped, nearing my climax. When my pleasure hit it was as though I’d been thrown into another realm. Crying out his name, my legs went weak. Were it not for him behind me, holding me up, I’d have dissolved into a puddle at his feet. He held me there, pushed up against the piano as he shuddered out his own release.
With a hand on the back of my head, keeping me pinned where I was, he pulled out of me. The loss of him made me whimper. I could’ve stayed like that with him inside me forever.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
I did as he asked. My breath came in hot pants as I struggled to regain myself. Never again would I look at the hammers and strings inside a piano without thinking of Henry and the naughty things he’d just done to me. Nor would I ever play Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto without remembering the way Henry’s hands had felt on my bare flesh.
“You are a wonder,” he whispered in my ear as he brought me back against him, filling his hands with my breasts. “I must taste you.”
My head spun as he lowered the top of the piano and replaced the cover over the keys. Then he lifted me and laid me on top, my feet resting on the keyboard cover. I was so overwrought, all I could do was let him stage me the way he wanted.
He set the bench upright and sat upon it between my spread thighs. His mouth was hot and hungry on my exposed sex. He began with gentle licks, tiny flicks of sensation. Pressing my legs open wider, he increased his ministrations. In no time I writhed atop the piano, moaning and carrying on as though I’d die without release.
I was beginning to see that it would always be this way with Henry. It had been the same with my Johnny. I was shameless with him, begging for what I wanted and insisting he should give it to me now. My Johnny had given me everything and then some. Henry was proving to be just as skilled, just as aggressive in his pursuit of my pleasure. There was nothing for me to do but give in to him and his dark demands.
Lesson Six
I awoke the next morning in the big white bed thoroughly used and alone. Sitting up, I looked around for some sign that Henry was close. The silken sheet slid down my body, revealing the marks he’d put on me. Love bites, my Johnny would’ve called them. Henry had marked me. I’d never allowed Jack or Aaron such liberties. It had been my experience that men, while they didn’t mind a woman’s boldness in bed, never liked to be reminded that they weren’t the only one she gave her affection to.
My cheeks heated at the thought of explaining to my other two gentlemen callers just why I’d allowed a third man to do to me what I’d patently refused them. What did that say about the change Henry had brought over me? Was it me somehow subconsciously allowing myself to be owned by Henry in ways that I’d only ever allowed my Johnny? Did this mean that I no longer wanted to entertain the affections of Aaron and Jack? For surely they’d take one look at me, in my present condition, and refuse to lie with me. The ego of man was a fragile, fragile thing.
I rose from the bed and stretched. Every part of me was sore, especially between my legs. Henry had used me in more ways and more times in one night than I was accustomed to. A delicious thrill raced through me at the remembrance of all the pleasure he’d given me. He had more stamina and comeback than any man I’d even been with, including my Johnny.
The thoughts drifted in like unwelcome ghosts, casting their doubt. Thoughts I’d firmly set aside every time Henry had entered me. He wasn’t here now to chase them away so they lingered and grew roots.
I slid a hand between my legs. Dry. As many times as Henry had taken his pleasure inside of me, I should be full of him upon rising. So full that it should trickle down my legs. But there was nothing. And then I thought of all the times he’d pushed my hands away when I’d tried to touch him, or turned me around so I’d faced away, and how he’d never been nude with me, having worn his pajama bottoms all night.
I ran a hand over the sheets. It was the same. We should’ve soaked the sheets with our combined fluids. My confusion grew until it filled my head, washing shame over me in hot waves. Henry had been good to me. I should be grateful. He paid me handsomely and treated me with care. He gave me unmeasured pleasure with his hands and his mouth and his…
My thoughts stalled. Henry was generously endowed. He’d filled me multiple times. His powerful thrusts brought me to pleasure over and over again. But there was something not quite right about the whole business.
If I’d had no experience I might not have noticed. I could never feign virginity or innocence. I was a fallen woman. A woman men paid to lie with. I knew what I was and the names people used—tart, wanton…whore. I was all of those things and more and yet I wasn’t ashamed. I gave as much as I got. It was an equitable exchange of pleasure. My gentlemen always came back for more. Henry was no exception. Except that he was. What was the protocol in such circumstances?
The bedroom door opened and Henry strode in carrying a tray laden with food. He took in my appearance, his gaze silkily stroking my skin like a touch. He wore a robe over his bare chest and pajama bottoms. I was struck all over again by his handsomeness. He was beautiful, heartbreakingly so.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’ve brought you sustenance.”
The question I’d first posed in his office the day we’d met came flying at me from out of nowhere. “Why am I here? You could have anyone. Why me?”
He set the tray down on top of the piano, rattling the dishes. “This again.”
“I’m not especially beautiful. I’m not as worldly and sophisticated as I once was. I’m a widow, a whore who sells her body to finance her existence. You could be with debutants and starlets. What are you doing with me?”
“I thought we went over this.” He pulled his cigarette case from his robe pocket and lit one, keeping his gaze steady on me. But there was something dark behind his eyes, something that made me lean back in defense.
“You said that your needs are unusual,” I pressed. “What needs? From the things we’ve done, your needs aren’t any different from those of other men. There are some peculiarities—”
“My needs,” he ground out, “are mine to share or not share. Frankly you aren’t in a position to question me. I pay for your body, not your thoughts.”
I flinched at his words. He’d never spoken to me like this before, but then I’d said the same about myself. I shouldn’t be shocked by them. The thoughts about him drifted in again, demanding to be answered. “Is there something the matter with you, some condition you haven’t shared—”
“Silence!” He stubbed out his cigarette on the tray. “On your hands and knees. Now.”
“Henry—”
“If I wanted your mouth, I’d wrap it around my cock. On your knees.”
I started to obey, partly out of fear and partly out of salacious curiosity.
“Turn around,” he said. “Then down. On the floor.”
I did as I was told, presenting Henry with my bare backside. I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me as he knelt behind me and put his hands between my legs.
“You’re wet. Does talking back to me excite you?” He wrapped his fist in my hair and pul
led back gently to bring my head up. “Is this what you want?” He ground his erection against my backside. “Have I not given it to you enough?”
“You have. I just… Why can’t I touch you?” I reached a hand between my legs, grazing his member with my fingertips. “I want to touch you, take you in my mouth and pleasure you.”
He reached around me and grasped my wrist, bringing my arm behind my back, but not hurting me. “I’m the one in charge here. I say what happens.”
“I’d understand. I’ve heard of prosthetics—”
He used his size and strength to topple me over onto my back and came down on top of me. His breathing came in harsh, heavy pants. There was something like panic in his expression that made me want to reach out and soothe his brow.
“I thought you were different,” he whispered. “I thought…”
“I am. This?” I pointed to his love bite on my breast. “I’ve only ever allowed my Johnny to mark me, make me his. Only him, and now you.” I took his face in my hands. “I just want to be close to you, to understand you. You had to know I would figure it out eventually. I can’t be the first.”
He laid his head in the crook of my neck. “You’re not demanding money for your silence?”
“Is that what others have done?” It all made sense now. Why he paid me instead of dating the kind of women a man like him would want on his arm. “I’m not like them.”
“I know. I think I knew that from the first moment I met you. I want to be inside you. I want you to come apart under me, screaming my name. But I need you to not question me anymore on this. I need you to not look at me or try to touch me. I need you to pretend…” His voice broke on the last word. “I’m a real man.”
“You are a real man.”
“No. I’m not. But being with you…” He raised his head and looked down at me. “I feel like one.”
“Come inside me.” I pushed my pelvis into his, rubbing against his prosthesis. “Make me feel you. Give me pleasure and let me give it to you. I promise not to look or touch.” I slipped my thumb into his mouth. “Lie with me, Henry. Make me yours once more.”
He pulled back a little, fumbling with the front of his pajama bottoms. His gaze stayed on mine as he pushed into me. I arched up as he filled me, my eyes drifting closed.
“No,” he said. “Look at me. See me.”
“I do see you, Henry. Don’t you get it? I’ve only ever seen you. Not this room, this house, your wealth and status…or your secret. I see only you.”
He thrust into me harder, making me gasp. “I want to see you come. I want you looking at me when I push you over. I want you to know it’s me who can give you this.” He punctuated his point with a grind of his hips that sent me spiraling toward orgasm.
I grasped my breasts in my hands, rolling my nipples. Close. So close.
“That’s it, love,” he coaxed. “Come for me.”
I broke into a thousand pieces under him. He rotated his hips a few more times, rubbing deliciously against me, and then he too found his pleasure, crying out my name. I brought him down and crushed my lips to his. Our mouths met in a mad frenzy, then slowed as the last flickers of ecstasy pulsed through me.
As my heart rate slowed I became aware of several things at once—Henry’s body heavy and warm on top of me, the silkiness of his hair between my fingers, and a sudden unexpected realization. My mind scrambled to wrap around the unwelcome thought.
This was his fantasy and it was my job to fulfill it, I reminded myself. Not question it. I’d already pushed too hard and gone too far. I could’ve lost him. If I didn’t control my wayward thoughts and just live in the illusion, I would lose him. Of this I was certain. So I smiled up at him as he gazed down at me with a satisfied grin on his face. I could almost read his thoughts as he stroked the hair back from my face.
He was becoming so much more to me than either Aaron or Jack had and possibly ever would. I think I knew the moment I met him that he would change my life in much the same way I knew my Johnny would when I’d first met him. Everything Henry had said and done to me in his office that first day came flooding back to me. And I knew. I knew.
Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes.
“Hey,” he said in a bit of a panic, thumbing away the wetness. “What’s this? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think you could ever do that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just happy.”
“These are happy tears?” He brought his thumb to his mouth. “They don’t taste like happy tears.”
“They are. I promise.”
He lowered himself so our bodies touched again, resting his weight on his forearms. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Believe this: you’ll always be safe with me. Your secrets are mine. In the short time I’ve known you, we’ve built a connection that goes beyond the physical. I know you feel it too.”
He lowered his head in agreement.
“Whatever your needs are, just know that I can meet them. I want to meet them.”
His gaze flickered up to mine and his lips parted as though he meant to say something, then he pressed them together and gave a brief nod.
“We’ll leave things as they are for however long you want. It’s up to you. I’m happy to go along as we are and equally as happy to take it further.”
“Thank you.” His voice was gruff, his eyes shiny. His gaze roamed my face as though he were looking for something in my expression or trying to read my thoughts, then he shook his head and he was back to the Henry who was in control. He pressed his lips to mine and slid out of me. “I’ve occupied you too much.” I kept my gaze on his face as he adjusted his pajama bottoms. “You must be sore. Come.” He rose and held his hand out to me. “Let’s breakfast and talk of other things.”
He held out a silken robe for me to slip into. It felt like heaven against my skin. “I am hungry.” My stomach chose that moment to heartily agree and I clapped a hand over it in embarrassment.
Laughing, he took my hand and led me to the piano where he’d left our food. “You must maintain your strength. I have lots of plans for you.”
Lesson Seven
Henry’s man drove me home after breakfast. As he held me during our goodbye, I got the impression Henry didn’t want me to leave, but he had an empire to run and couldn’t stay in bed with me all day.
On the way home I mulled over our time together, coming to a couple of conclusions and a decision. The timing would have to be just right to pull it off. I wasn’t entirely sure I could do it though. My doubts about Henry and me had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. He was a very proud man. As well he should be.
What little I’d gleaned about him from Jack, the few scant newspaper articles, some library research, and from Henry himself told me that I had a very tall mountain to climb. Most women wouldn’t make the effort. They’d take his money, his gifts, the pleasure he offered, and go away happy. Apparently I wasn’t like most women. There was a connection between us that I wanted to deepen and the only way to do that would be to lay everything out between us. No secrets. No shame.
He hadn’t asked it, but I had the strong feeling Henry wished he had me all to himself. I owed so much to Jack and Aaron, including my meeting Henry.
My Henry.
I sighed and glanced out the car window. I couldn’t break things off with the other two gentlemen. I wouldn’t. If Henry had verbalized his wishes I wouldn’t comply, even if it meant Henry would end things between us. My loyalty and dignity meant everything to me. Jack and Aaron had been good to me. They cared for me. I was bound by honor to respect them and honor our agreements for as long as they wished.
The car rounded the corner of my little street. Aaron’s truck was parked at the curb. His dark head was bent as he sat on my stoop so he didn’t see me pull up until the driver closed the car door behind me. He took in the vehicle and the driver, then his gaze slid over
to me and stuck. I smiled and gave him a small wave. His expression didn’t change as he stood and brushed off the seat of his jeans. I realized he was staring at the love bite on my neck. Self-consciously I put a hand over it as I reached him.
“Hi,” I said, feeling awkward for the first time with him. “What are you doing here?”
He reached up and pulled my hand down. “Guess I know what kept you.” There was an edge to his voice.
“We don’t have an appointment for today.”
“Actually we do. We rescheduled from last week. I was supposed to get an extra.” He glanced at his wristwatch, still holding my arm. “You’re nearly half an hour late.” He leaned forward, putting his face to my neck, and inhaled. “I can smell him on you.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot. Come inside.” I rushed past him to the door and opened it.
When I turned around he was watching Henry’s car drive down the street. “He pays you more than I do.” He said it contemplatively, as though he were commenting on the weather or a sporting event.
“Come inside.” I stood just inside the door, holding it open for him.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and did as I asked. Stopping in front of me, he eyed the mark on my neck. “What other extras does his money buy?”
I swung at him without thinking.
He easily caught my wrist in his big hand. We stared at one another, our chests heaving, eyes angry. He’d never spoken to me like this before. I wasn’t sure I liked this side of him. He stroked the inside of my wrist with the pad of his thumb.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless, unable to rein in my physical response to him.
