Until I had gotten my hands on her.
Now she was like a new toy I'd gotten that everyone else wanted to touch, but I refused to share, got angry if anyone so much as stared at it longingly.
She wasn't mine.
She could never be mine.
But the impulse, the desire was there regardless of the rationality - or complete lack thereof - involved.
I knew it would come to an end.
Sooner than I would likely wish, she would have the money she needed, she would put her experiences with me on a high shelf in a dark corner of her mind, never to be thought on again.
And then she would belong to whoever she wished.
Not me.
Never me.
So I was going to go ahead and be selfish, let myself possess her for this short window of time, get every bit of her I could.
Because then, well, I was going to have to let her go.
"Are you waiting for me?" Rosie's voice asked, making me jump, turning on my heel, finding her standing in the hallway wearing a simple blue dress that was neither tight nor loose, her hair hanging around her shoulders, a small smile pulling at her lips.
There was something different about her, though. An ease, a lightness that hadn't been there before.
"You look nice," I heard myself saying, having to press my lips together to keep from smiling when her cheeks went pink, when her head ducked a bit.
"Oh, thanks. It's gross out," she added, wanting to deflect the attention from her. "It's nice in here," she went on when I didn't say anything.
"I haven't been out since I got here this morning," I admitted, holding an arm out for her to fall into step at my side.
"Are we using the same room again?" she asked since there was no other reason for us to be going down this hallway.
"It was what was open."
"I like it," she told me, stepping inside. "I think the black is, I don't know, more intimate, I guess," she said, moving to drop her bag on the table, pausing with her arm outstretched, her gaze moving over the items lined up there.
The water. Wipes. A bowl of mints.
Lube.
A small butt plug.
A butterfly vibrator.
"They're optional," I told her, not able to see if she was simply curious, or worried.
Her purse hit the table, her hand reaching for the butterfly, brows furrowed.
Taking my cue from her, I moved in at her side. "It's hands-free," I explained, flipping it to the back to show her the image there. "The straps go around your thighs and then the butterfly body presses against your pussy. And, if you look close, the antennae actually slips slightly inside you to tease over your G-spot."
"I've never seen anything like this before," she admitted.
"It's popular so that when you're going solo, it doesn't feel like you are doing the work. Lets you slip away. We can try it if you want. Or you can take it home with you," I added, the idea of her wearing it making my cock already start getting hard.
"I couldn't take..."
"Sure you can. We get them for free from the companies. It's yours," I told her, slipping it into her purse, knowing she wanted it and that she would never put it there herself.
"Is this, um, supposed to, ah... help?" she asked, motioning to the butt plug without actually touching it.
"It can help, yeah. But we don't need to use it if you're not comfortable with it. It's small," I added, slipping my finger under the tape sealing it, drawing out the silver tapered plug. "We can use it while we have sex," I told her, being purposely vague, figuring if I got too graphic, she would freak. "Get you used to the sensation. Get your body prepped."
"I, ah, guess we will see how things go," she said, shrugging her shoulder.
I tossed the plug and the lube toward the bed then reached out toward her, snagging her chin, gently pulling it upward. "You nervous?" I asked, figuring she must have been.
Firsts were scary.
"Yeah," she admitted openly, wetting her lower lip.
"You said you were curious though, right?"
"I, ah, yeah."
"Good. I'll make it good for you, baby. Just have to keep you relaxed," I added, leaning forward, pressing my lips to the spot below and behind her ear. "I know it doesn't seem possible, but a lot of women who let themselves relax into it tend to come harder from anal than they would with normal sex. So long as you have a good partner," I added, teeth nipping her earlobe.
"Then I'm set," she whispered, and when my head tilted, her cheeks were pink.
Eager, my hands slid down her sides, finding the hem of her dress, sliding it upward, finding her arms already raised by the time I got it bunched up to her waist.
Maybe it was a job to her, money she desperately needed.
But she wanted it, too.
She wanted me too.
Dress gone, my hand slid down her stomach, then slipped between her legs, finding her panties already damp with need.
Her hands were on me, working my clothes off with a practiced ease, now familiar with the process, carefully tucking my cufflinks into my breast pocket before removing my jacket, slipping off my belt with a sexy little smirk.
My hands removed her bra as hers freed me of my pants and boxer briefs.
I wouldn't have been able to see it coming.
Not without coaxing her, without explicitly asking for it.
But her body lowered down in front of me as her hand gripped my cock, her head tilting up to look at me for a second before her lips closed around the head, her tongue tracing over the bead of pre-cum gathered there before sucking me deep.
My hand fisted in her hair as she worked me, using every bit of self-control I possessed not to come down her throat, trying to remember what rewards came from patience.
Like feeling her tight, wet walls clenching around me as she came.
Like being able to be inside her like no man ever had before.
I'd never fed into the virgin fetish. It was an antiquated, misogynistic urge to be the first, the only. Some innate fear that if a woman had something to compare you to, she would know you sucked.
I knew I didn't suck.
I didn't need a fresh canvas to create a masterpiece there.
But there was a primal desire within me to get her like no man had been able to before, to show her that she could enjoy something that she wasn't ever sure enough in the past about to try to experience it.
My hand curled in her hair, gently dragging her back up onto her feet, walking her backward toward the bed, my other hand wiping her swollen lower lip.
I lowered her down on the bed, my hand going between us to rip her panties away, my cock sliding inside her before she would even register being free of them, making her voice catch in her throat as her head fell back, her lower back arching up off the mattress.
When I paused, her hips rose greedily up to me, wiggling, grinding, demanding more.
My arm slid under her, holding her to me as I flipped down onto my back, pulling her over me.
"Ride me," I demanded softly, my hand sliding up her body to cover her breast. "Show me how you want it," I added, my other hand sinking into her hip, urging it forward.
That was all it took.
Her body, too overcome with need to be insecure, took over, rocked, withdrew, circled, found her own little rhythm while I got to watch the view.
Her head tilted back, her hair swinging around her shoulders as she rode me.
I noticed a small beauty mark in a star shape below her third rib, a little thing I found myself fascinated with as she started to whimper, her voice getting caught, her walls tightening around me.
"Pas encore," I told her, pushing her hips up, my cock sliding out of her before she could come, my other hand reaching out for the plug, sliding it down her cleft, slipping it inside her pussy before she could start to get nervous.
The cold metal made her body jolt, her lips opening on a silent gasp.
A pathetic replacement
for my cock, I tilted it, raking it across her G-spot until she was writhing above me, then sliding it out and back, pressing, waiting to see if she objected, freaked.
Her wide-eyed gaze flew to my face. There was uncertainty, but more so than that, curiosity, trust.
I applied pressure, felt it slide slightly inside, slippery with her own wetness. My cock twitched as I realized she got wet enough for me, drenched my cock enough that the lube wouldn't technically even be necessary.
Some women were lucky that way.
Rosie, it seemed, was one of them.
The plug slid to the hilt as a slow breath shuddered out of me.
"You okay?" I asked, my hand sliding between her thighs to tease over her clit.
"Yeah." Her voice was a raspy whisper, her thighs tightening on the sides of mine.
"You can ride me again," I offered, reaching to slide my cock down her cleft.
She lifted up, not even pausing before sliding back down, taking me in.
"Oh, my God," she whimpered, feeling a new fullness, her hand slapping downward, curling over mine, holding on as she started to ride.
I didn't try to slow her down, try to drag it out.
I let her ride me until the orgasm shot through her system, her hand almost crushing mine as she did, my name coming from her lips as her body shook with the intensity of it.
Her body folded forward after, her chest to mine, her head in my neck.
My hand sifted through her hair, slid down her back, glided over her ass, then down further, grabbing the edges of the plug, pulling, making her body jolt, her hands planting to look down on me.
"Breathe," I told her as I pushed the plug in again. Then out further, back in. My gaze held hers, looking for discomfort or objection.
But I saw nothing.
I watched as she let go of her pre-conceived ideas, when she simply let herself experience it for herself.
And her pussy grabbed my cock as I kept working her, priming her, getting her to the point of no return.
Sensing it, I let go, guiding her body down on the mattress in front of mine, cocking her legs up, moving behind her.
Big and little spoon.
I gently removed the plug, moving my cock against her instead.
Her muscles tensed, but she didn't pull away. In fact, her hand grabbed mine, holding on, trusting, waiting.
I waited for her to take that steadying breath before I pressed my pussy-soaked cock against her. Just a pressure for a long moment, then gently sliding the slightest bit inward.
"That's it," I told her, pressing a kiss to her neck as she let out a slow breath, trying to stay relaxed as her body adjusted. "More?" I asked, pausing, waiting.
She didn't find words.
But her hips pressed backward, taking me a little deeper on a small gasp.
My hand slid down her belly, pressing between her thighs as I withdrew and pressed again. When a low whimper escaped her, I withdrew again, pressed forward, a little deeper, taking more of her, letting her have more of me.
Over and over.
My muscles were tight, the need for release a painful thing as I gently fucked her ass, waited for her to start to grind back into me, her gasps becoming moans, her pussy getting wetter and wetter by the moment.
"Pres..." she choked, feeling her orgasm start to crest.
"That's it, baby. Come," I demanded softly, feeling it when her pussy started contracting, pulsing her pelvic floor, taking me with her, coming so hard that my vision flashed white for a long moment.
"Oh, my God," she was still whimpering when I became aware of anything but the waves of pleasure again, her breathing labored, her heart slamming in her chest.
"You okay?" I asked, nuzzling my face into her neck, pressing a kiss to the column of her throat.
"I thought you were just trying to talk me into it," she admitted, shaking her head a little.
"What do you mean?"
"About the, ah, intensity," she told me as she sucked in a greedy breath.
"Rosie, baby, I would never lie to talk you into something," I told her, a little upset she would think that of me.
But, I reminded myself, she didn't know me well enough to know I would never do something like that to her. Only assholes did that shady shit.
"I didn't mean to... that was just unexpected," she told me, her head leaning back into me, her hand holding mine still, refusing to let go.
"You were so good, baby," I told her, my hand stroking down her body, watching the way goosebumps rose up on the surface of her skin.
"Yeah?" It was almost inaudible. If my head wasn't beside hers, I would have missed it.
"Fucking amazing," I added, giving her hand a squeeze.
"I thought it would hurt more," she admitted, more willing to share when she didn't have to face me.
"For some. If you're not ready. If the guy is in a rush. If you're not wet enough."
"We didn't use..." she started to remember, spotting the unopened bottle of lube.
"You got wet enough for me," I told her.
I could have sworn her body flushed at that.
I felt my lips curl up.
Sweet.
She was too fucking sweet.
For either of our good.
"Relax again for me," I told her softly as my hips started to pull backward, sliding out of her. "I'll be right back," I told her, moving to clean up, coming back to do the same for her.
But I didn't immediately go for my clothes, didn't hand her hers either.
I simply moved into the space at her back, curled my arm around her, folded her up onto my chest.
Her body was stiff at first, then relaxed into me with a sigh.
I wasn't, by nature, a snuggler. And co-stars, as a rule, simply didn't snuggle after. Once things were over and you cleaned up, the intimacy of the moment was usually gone, and you were ready to get dressed and get back to your life.
Because this was work.
But the reality was, nothing about this felt like work to me.
This didn't feel like acting mixed with a little actual pleasure.
This felt real.
This was something I had never experienced before.
A closeness.
A connection.
And I wasn't quite so ready to give it up, get back to the rote motions of my life.
"Will we... do that again?" she asked a long moment later, her finger tracing shapes across my chest, distracting in the best way possible.
"Do you want to do that again?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then yes."
It didn't escape me, either, that she said we. Like there was no question in her mind that the scenes would simply continue to be about her and me.
"And maybe next time I can engage your G-spot too," I added, my hand grabbing her ass, giving it a squeeze. "If you thought that was good, then you are going to lose your mind over a triple-zone orgasm."
A slow, silly little chuckle escaped her. "I don't know if I can handle it," she told me, burying her head in my chest as she did so, like she was embarrassed by admitting it.
"You can handle it. You already come so hard. You're going to implode. In the best way possible," I added.
"I wish that we..." she started, only to cut off at the sound of voices in the hall.
We were too far down for anyone to be there casually. No one used the side exit. The cafeteria was several feet up.
Whoever it was out there, they were deliberately eavesdropping.
Whatever she was about to say got lost, though, as the spell got broken, as reality came back to her much more quickly than I would have liked.
Her body shifted, pressed back, turned her back on me.
"Sorry about the panties," I told her, sliding to the edge of the bed with her. I wasn't sorry at all. And she knew it, casting me a smirk before reaching for her bra, slipping it on.
I got up, handing her the blue dress as I went about dressing myself, grabbing the plug, t
ossing it, putting the lube away, leaving the extra vibrator on the table.
"Preston?"
"Yeah?" I asked, turning, wondering if she could see how much I liked hearing my name on her lips. It became something new entirely when she said it.
"Um, when will we.."
"How many times a week are you free?" I cut her off.
I kept getting distracted by her, and hadn't figured out her schedule yet, her plans.
"I think three is possible."
"So maybe a Tuesday and the weekends?" I asked as I slipped my tie back on.
"Yeah, that works for me."
"Alright. I will have Cooper work it into the schedule. Take all the guesswork out of things. Is there anything else - schedule or schematic-wise - that you need to know?"
"Ah, no. I think I am getting a hang of things. I even got onto the webcam and chat last night," she added, avoiding eye-contact. "I'm, ah, not really... that popular, but it was kind of nice actually."
"Hey, you don't need a ton of clients. Just a loyal one or two is good enough. Keeps the weirdos to a minimum. I think it's better to have one or two guys you enjoy interacting with than dozens of them that you don't."
"I do too," she agreed. And, was that something almost dreamy in her voice, in her eyes? Could she have possibly been as into the conversation the night before as I had?
Her head turned as she moved toward the door, taking away any chance of me knowing for sure.
But, I figured, I would know if she was on again, if we talked again. If we clicked again.
I had a feeling she would be there.
"I will see you this weekend," she said, giving me a warm smile before disappearing down the hall.
She didn't know, of course, but I would be seeing her that night.
I would be seeing her every night.
Because every night she signed on.
Every night, she eagerly talked to me.
She put on the camera without me asking.
She even turned on the mic so I could hear her laughing, could hear what music she was listening to.
We filled the hours between her work and bed discussing everything and nothing at all until I knew her better than I knew practically anyone in my life. Until she had more information about me - though carefully crafted - than most people had too.
faire l'amour Page 13
