Janine had not yet reached the point where she came from anal sex, but it would heighten her arousal. He continued moving in and out of her accelerating his pacing until he could feel the pulsing semen ready for release. He withdrew from her and came on her ass and back. He flipped her onto her back and buried his face between her legs. Her clit was swollen having escaped her folds and he lovingly licked it using his tongue to move in and out of her. He loved eating her pussy. The smells emanating from it as her juices flowed to him were intoxicating. She grabbed hold of the sheets as she squirmed beneath him ready for her own release.
She screamed out, “Oh, shit!” before grabbing the back of his head pressing him further into her. Her back arched as she drew her knees up trying to move him away. But he stayed planted between her legs continuing to lap up and down her clit until she finally shuddered beneath him releasing even more.
His penis was swelling again, and he desperately wanted to fuck her. He hurriedly got off the bed and led her to the shower. He turned on the water and handed her the soap.
With the hot water washing over them both, he whispered, “Wash me.”
She complied lathering the soap in her hands before taking hold of his fully erect penis and stroking it with soapy hands. She smiled realizing just how hungry he had become. Completing her task, she dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth grabbing hold of his hips. Guiding him in and out of her mouth she flickered her tongue around his shaft. He took hold of her hair forcing her to stand and then pressed her against the stall as he slid inside her. His powerful thrusts raised her slightly with each stroke as their pleasure heightened once more.
“Do you want to cum?” he grunted.
“Yes, Sir” she groaned, “May I please?”
“Not yet,” he said thrusting faster.
“Please…ughhhh!” She was gone.
As much as he loved watching her cum, he’d teach her how to hold on a little longer. But in the moment, her orgasmic convulsions pushed him over the edge. They were both lost.
CHAPTER 8
It had been an exhaustive day at the office, Michael was tired and all he really wanted to do was go home, relax and go to bed early. As he placed a few papers in his messenger bag, he realized he had one more task ahead of him. He had promised to meet former colleague Randy Armstrong for drinks. Randy reached out to him about participating in a panel discussion for a major foundations conference being held in D.C.
He agreed to do it months before, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss exactly how they were going to proceed or structure the presentation. He wanted to cancel, but he’d already missed the conference call with the other presenters due to a court appearance. Making matters worse, the conference was in less than a month and he hadn’t prepared for it at all. He took a deep breath and headed out of his empty office suite.
He looked at his watch noting he had less than twenty minutes to make his way over to DuPont Circle. Fortunately, it wouldn’t take him long given it was already close to eight and the Metro evening rush was over. The brief walk to his Farragut West Metro stop ensured he’d get there on time if he caught the next train. Walking quickly towards the station, he promised himself he’d only stay for one drink before heading home to crash. As he stepped out of the station, he headed north towards the bar where they agreed to meet.
When he walked in, the place was crowded and the transition from after-work patrons to singles on the hunt was apparent. He scanned the place looking for Randy and found him at a small table near the rear of the place. Michael stopped at the bar, ordered himself a scotch before making his way to Randy.
“Long time, no see!” Randy said as he raised his beer glass to him.
“Yeah, it has been. How’re you doing Randy?” he said as he sat down.
“I’m good. Real good. How about you?” he replied.
“The same. Busy, but that’s a good thing, right?”
The two men were friendly but not close. When they worked together, they formed a cordial relationship and occasionally went out for drinks. Less than two years in, Randy got married and started his family making evenings out more rare.
“How’s your family?” Michael asked wanting to get the small talk over with so they could get on with the business at hand.
“They’re good too. Kids growing like crazy. My oldest is in the third grade and the youngest is in pre-K. Less stress on Becky and me to be honest. I see you’re still single.”
“Yeah,” he said really hoping Randy didn’t try to get too personal. It seemed to be an annoying habit married people fell into—wanting to know the status of everyone else, as if there were some secret society he’d enter if his answer were any different. Or worse yet, they’d try to fix him up with an available friend.
“Lucky bastard!” Randy said laughing heartily.
He was not in the mood for that level of banter and decided to cut to the chase. “So what do you need me to do for the conference panel?”
“Right. Um, well during our call, we decided to go the traditional route. You know, as the moderator I’ll introduce everyone and then give brief remarks. Then each of you will present about fifteen minutes of specific commentary and then we do a good twenty-minute Q&A with session attendees.”
“Okay, and there are three of us on the panel for a total of what, forty-five minutes of commentary?” Michael asked.
“Right. Leslie Jackson is going to talk about major changes in healthcare trusts and foundations and how they are responding to legislative changes in entitlement programs. Pierce McDonald is talking about the pros and cons of rolling averages for funding in a volatile market.”
As Michael listened to him, he was already bored and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to do this. He took a long sip of his drink and feigned interest by nodding occasionally as Randy prattled on about latest trends, analyses and impacts on philanthropic organizations. He was tired and wanted this all to end as quickly as possible.
“So given all that, where do you see me fitting into this scenario?”
“Your legal work with smaller groups—you know, the little foundations and nonprofits—has gotten a lot of attention. I mean it’s unlikely any of them are going to be there, but at least you can share some of your insights on the lessons you’ve learned from them. Your work might be applicable to the larger philanthropies.”
What a condescending prick, Michael thought. “Humph. I see. Well, based on our earlier conversations I thought the larger topic for consideration was how these philanthropies could benefit from actually listening to their grantees instead of blowing smoke up their own asses and pushing agendas that don’t do any real or substantial good. But I’ll work on that.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Look, I think I know where you want to go with this. I’ll keep my remarks to fifteen minutes and be prepared for the Q&A, okay?”
“Great. I know you’ll do a great job—that’s why I asked you. Plus I thought you might want the extra exposure and connections.”
“Actually we have a full client load right now.”
“Really?” he asked. “How many attorneys do you have with you now?”
“Four…and growing.”
“I had no idea. I heard you moved your offices from Southeast to Eye Street, but…well that’s great. Congrats, man.”
“Thanks. Look, I’ve got to…”
“Will you look at that hot piece of ass over there!” Randy said unexpectedly.
Michael was tired and on edge, otherwise Randy wouldn’t have annoyed him as much. Finishing his drink, he subtly looked in the direction of Randy’s glaze. The woman capturing his attention was a standard silicon-breasted, bleached blond hovering in a group.
“Have at it man, but be careful. You’re married now,” he said as he picked up his bag to leave. “Look, I’ve got to run. What time do I need to be at the conference center the day of the session?”
“Oh, right.
We start at three so if you can arrive by two-fifteen or two-thirty, that should be fine. If you have visuals, email them and we’ll pre-load them and be ready when we get there.”
“Got it. Take care man,” he said before moving through the larger crowd on his way towards the front door.
“Michael?” The voice was familiar, but unexpected.
He looked around for a moment trying to determine if the greeting was meant for him or someone else. He stopped when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. As he turned around he was stunned to see his ex-girlfriend Christine Morgan.
“Hello, Michael!”
“Hi Christine.” He hadn’t seen her in almost two years.
On the surface, they seemed the perfect pair. In addition to her physical beauty, she was a smart and polished woman. She was doing well for herself as a marketing professional with a leading publication and traveling the world. But at the end of the day, he knew they had very little in common of any real substance. In hindsight, the fact they were together for almost three years was more a reflection of his ambivalence towards the relationship versus any expectation of forever—which was in sharp contrast to her intentions. When they were together, Christine appeased him out of her sense of dutifulness not out of a genuine desire to please him. But he was comfortable with her and at the time she was enough for him. If he were honest with himself, he did love her once.
Following the fiasco at Kelly’s wedding, they tried to reconcile but it didn’t last long at all. Their eventual breakup was as ugly as they get. Given those circumstances, he was certain she’d never want to speak to him again—she even said as much. Yet here they were in a loud, well-known pick up bar and she’d reached out to him.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. Per usual, she was extremely well dressed with just the right mix of class and seductiveness. Not a hair was out of place and her makeup accentuated her stunning features. Without a doubt she was a beautiful woman who’d have little trouble attracting a suitor. It just wouldn’t be him.
“I just popped in to meet a colleague for a quick drink. But I’m on my way out,” he said.
“Oh. Are you sure you can’t hang around a little while? The night’s young, who knows what can happen,” she said.
She can’t be fucking serious, he thought. “No, ‘fraid not. I have a busy day tomorrow. But take care, have fun and be safe,” he said as he gave her a light pat on the shoulder and headed out the door.
As he walked to the Metro, he thought about the eventual relief he felt when their relationship finally ended. He loved her as much as he could, but even when he was with her, he knew he could never really share all he was with her. Ironically, he was fine with it because he felt a certain ease and familiar comfort with her. But there was something important missing from their relationship. At the time he didn’t fully understand what it was. But now it was definitely over and done. There was no going back.
Reaching his building, Mr. Willis greeted him warmly as he entered the lobby. Rather than engage in small talk he just smiled, nodded and got his mail from the box. He headed up to his condo grateful for the respite awaiting him. Riding up the elevator, he flipped through the mail noting the bills and junk mail before seeing the card with his mother’s insignia. Shit! What new hell is she inviting me to now? He thought.
From the time he was two years old, he and his siblings were involved in an organization devoted to ensuring black children from wealthy, prominent or “old” families knew black excellence was not an anomaly. Virtually every Saturday they were hauled off to some special event, museum or other “enriching” experience. While there were certainly advantages to belonging to the group, it took years before he fully appreciated it. Intended or not, it also showed him how his peers knew all too well how to put on the required façade and still find their own ways to rebel.
At sixteen he escorted his first debutante to her cotillion at his mother’s insistence. He spent months learning how to waltz, foxtrot and a series of other ballroom dances he’d unlikely use again. In addition, his dining and etiquette lessons were reinforced ad nauseam. After his first cotillion, his mother volunteered him for escort duty when other boys dropped out, couldn’t meet the requirements or some girl couldn’t secure someone to perform the ritual. Each year until he graduated high school it was a required duty. It was one of many expectations and most he fulfilled well.
When he got into his condo, he dropped his bag by the floor and hung his coat in the closet. Thoroughly exhausted, he headed towards the kitchen dropping the mail on the counter island as the card slid out from the others. He stared at it before hesitantly opening it. It was an invitation for a party she was throwing in honor of his father’s seventieth birthday.
Even though it was after nine-thirty, he pulled out his cell phone and called her.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Well hello, Sweetheart!” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Tired, but good.”
“You sound exhausted. So to what do I owe this rare pleasure?”
She just couldn’t help herself. He hadn’t talked to her or his father in weeks. But the task of calling always seemed to fall to him. She rarely called him unless it was family business or some event she wanted him to attend. Otherwise she preferred to complain about how he never felt the need to check on his aging parents. The fact was both of them were in very good health and traveled extensively. His father was physically fit and very active. She was equally busy with all her clubs and board service responsibilities.
Choosing to ignore her, he said, “I got the invitation for Dad’s birthday celebration.”
“Wonderful! I hope you can manage to squeeze us into your busy schedule.”
“I’ll be there. How big of an event is this?” He knew his mother had likely planned something extravagant with every friend, business associate and family member she could think of.
“Well, I expect at least seventy-five to a hundred. Of course Mya and Rick are flying in with their families. We’ll make a weekend out of it. It’ll be wonderful to have all of my children and grandchildren under the same roof again.”
“That sounds great, Mom.” Regardless of her claims to the contrary, there was little doubt in his mind this would be an event for at least one hundred fifty people, if not many more.
“Will you be coming alone or will you be bringing a guest?” she asked. There it was, the inevitable question that seemed to rear itself more and more the older he got.
“I’ll be alone.”
“Oh, alright then. Well, I’m sure you’re busy so I’ll talk to you some other time. Hopefully before the party.”
“Is there anything in particular you’d like me to get for Dad or bring?”
“What could he possibly need other than to have you here with us?”
“Duly noted, Mom. Look, I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s been a rough day, and I’m exhausted,” he said. He didn’t have the physical or emotional stamina to sustain much more of this conversation.
Her tone shifted significantly. “Sweetie, are you alright? You know I can’t help but worry about you, Michael. You’ll always be my baby boy.”
“I’m fine, just tired. Really.”
“Are you sure? You don’t sound ‘fine’ to me.”
“Mom...”
“Alright. I won’t pry. Instead, I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“I love you. Say ‘hi’ to Dad for me,” he said as he hung up the phone.
As much as he loved her, she could also drive him insane. Yet he knew under her judgmental, elitist shell was a remarkable woman. She was creative, loving and could fill the entire house with indescribable warmth when she let her guard down. But for reasons he didn’t understand, she didn’t show it nearly as often anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually heard her laugh and just be free. He missed that part of her.
CHAPTER 9
After a hellish two weeks at the offi
ce, Michael was glad to finally have a weekend free to unwind. He rarely lingered in bed opting instead to brew a pot of coffee and enjoy his newspapers seated on the couch watching the sunrise. But this morning he chose to lie there and enjoy the comfort of his new bed. In the two weeks he lived in the condo, he usually fell into it thoroughly exhausted only to wake the next morning and begin the tiring schedule again. Other than doing a little laundry and making a run to the cleaners, he could finally just relax. The following weekend he’d spend at his parents for the birthday celebration so he wanted to relish the quiet.
As he let his mind drift, his eyes wandered to the cross in the corner. His mind flashed to his first exchange with Nikita at Mistress Spectra’s club. That night was the first time he had ever set foot into one of the dungeons even though he had watched others from the loft above many times. Being newly matched, Nikita wanted him to “break her in” after the collaring ceremony binding them as Dom and Sub. She wanted to be chained to the St. Andrew’s Cross for a flogging. He would have preferred a far more private consummation of their arrangement, but he obliged her having learned she also had a penchant for exhibitionism. Even then, he knew she would be an extraordinary partner.
As eager as she was that night, he took his time, taunting her and building her anticipation before he struck her. He whispered things to her, touching her while she squirmed and begged for his punishment. With each strike, he watched her desires heighten and quickly learned how to physically challenge as well as sexually entice her. She was a woman who clearly loved pain but beyond that, he was certain she hadn’t experienced many other ways Doms and Subs could interact. The more he thought about her, his penis twitched. He thought about handling it himself, but he had a much better option.
He reached for the phone on his nightstand and called her even though it was only seven-thirty in the morning.
His Pleasures and Pain (Book II) (Allen Trilogy 2) Page 6
