Expert Service (A Pleasure Chest Story)

by Penny Wylder

  He pulls me against his side locking me to him with one arm and pulling up my dress with the other. Again that teasing touch finds me, and I stifle a moan. “You’re going to kill me,” I whisper.

  “On the contrary,” he says against my ear. “Did you know that the French used to call the orgasm le petit mort, or the little death? No, Scarlett. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you have many, many little deaths.” His fingers press through my panties against my clit, and I squirm in my seat, wanting to get closer to him but also not wanting the cab driver to have any clue as to what we’re doing. The way he’s touching me, it’s gentle, calm, and insistent. It tells me he’s not afraid to take his time, that he knows exactly what he wants and he’s going to get it. It’s exactly the way he is at Ellison, only this is ten times hotter.

  The pressure he’s using on my clit is soft and pulsing, and it’s making me wet. I can feel the way the fabric of my panties is dampening, and I know that he can too. His lips press my ear again. “I’m not sure if I expressed this earlier, but you are so utterly hot,” he says. “From the second you walked in that door yesterday my cock was hard, wanting you. And now I can’t wait to have all of you.”

  He presses against me more insistently, and my back arches. “How long until we’re there?” I ask.

  “Not long.”

  The rest of the cab ride is lost in a haze of touching. Chris’s hand feels like it’s everywhere. His fingers sweep down the insides of my thighs, only to rush back and tease me beneath my panties. Suddenly they’re at my breasts, feeling the way my nipples stand at attention under the fabric of my clothes, and then back to my clit to draw tiny circles that have my hips trusting against his hold on me. I’m going to combust. The cab driver pulls over in front of the hotel, and I gasp in relief. Chris pulls my dress down and pays the driver, and we rush inside. He takes me by the hand, pulling me along.

  There is no frenzied make-out session in the elevator, no falling against the walls of the hallway as we make our way to the room. There is only the firm steadiness of his hand, the iron in his grip leaving no room to doubt that he’s going to make good on all of the promises he made. The door seems to loom in front of me as he opens it. I want this so badly, I’m almost afraid for it to start.

  The door closes and we’re left in the half-light of the room. We left a couple of lamps on, and the lights of the city are streaming in through the window. The dimness feels sensual and dangerous, like anything could happen. Chris takes his coat off and drops it to the floor, pushes mine off my shoulders and watches it fall. “I’ve been watching you in that dress all night and it’s been driving me crazy,” he says. “Now I want to see you out of it.”

  I walk past him towards the center of the room, stepping out of my heels as I go. I can feel his eyes on me as I turn, shimmying the straps off my shoulders and pushing the dress down my body. I watch his eyes follow it as it falls into a puddle on the floor. “Your turn,” I say.

  His suit jacket comes off, and unlike earlier when I barely had a chance to look at him, this time, as he unbuttons his shirt, I get the chance to drink him in. The lean lines of his muscles are highlighted in the dim room, and the sparse trail of hair that trails from his chest to his stomach leads my eyes straight to where I want it to go—across his delicious abs and down to where his cock is once again begging for attention.

  I take of my bra as he takes off his pants, and then he’s naked. I stop undressing to catch my breath and just look at him. He stalks towards me, powerful and smooth as a lion, and I’m begging to be his prey. He picks me up as if I weigh absolutely nothing, laying me back on the bed, his mouth following his fingers as he hooks them into the waistband of my tights and panties, shedding them from me. Now his lips are on my thighs, and I spread my legs for him, more than ready to have him there, for him to take me in whatever way he wants.

  But he doesn’t put his mouth on me. Instead he teases me. He drags his lips along my skin, pressing kisses to my knees. Who knew knees could drive you crazy? He works his way up my hips where he decorates my skin with his lips and his tongue, kissing low across my stomach. It’s so close, so close to where I want him. I arch my back and raise my hips, offering myself to him, trying to get him closer. Instead he crawls up my body, pinning me to the bed and putting his face close to mine. “No, Scarlett. Not yet.”

  “Please,” I say, writhing beneath him, feeling his cock press against my skin.

  “If you’re going to help me blow of steam,” he says, his mouth quirking up into a smile, “then you’re going to do it on my terms. I’m going to take my time with you, and by the time I’m done you’ll be screaming so loud the hotel will hear you.”

  My breath leaves my chest all at once, the bluntness of his words turning me on even more. I changed my mind. If he puts his mouth on me right now, I might come just from that. Chris puts his lips on my neck, and I press myself into him. I love the feeling of his skin on mine, our bodies tangled together. He travels, drawing a path of fire with his mouth, sucking against my skin, leaving bites in his wake. Down between my breasts where he stops and lifts his head to look at me, blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light. “I like these,” he says moments before he takes one of my nipples between his lips, rolling it, sucking, tugging and grazing it with his teeth. His fingers tease the other one, and I watch him squeeze and pull, the dichotomy in sensation sending shudders through me.

  He lifts his mouth, sucking my breast and letting it fall. He gives me a wicked smile. “Your tits are perfection. Later, I’m going to fuck them.”

  I don’t have a chance to respond, because his mouth closes over my other nipple and I’m lost again to the torrent of sensation. An image flashes in my head of him over me, his cock pushing through my breasts, and I feel myself get wetter in response. I stroke my hand through his hair, pushing his face harder against me, and I let myself feel it. Force myself to stop thinking about it. The scratch of his tongue and teeth has me grabbing onto his shoulders, fighting to get closer to him.

  He finally releases me, and I sag onto the bed as he continues his journey down my body, circling my stomach, teasing me. Just when I think I’m finally, finally going to feel what that mouth can do to me, he stops. He crosses to his suitcase, rummaging inside. “What are you doing?” My voice is already hoarse. I’ll be lucky if I have any voice at all tomorrow.

  He holds up a sleep mask, and I raise an eyebrow. He comes over to me, and I’m distracted by the sight of his hard cock, stretching towards me, practically begging to be touched. “Are you not comfortable with that?” he asks, seeing the way I look at the mask.

  “No,” I say. “Honestly, I just didn’t think you were a sleep mask type of guy.”

  His smirk returns, and he leans forward to slip the mask over my eyes. “Only on planes. And you’ll pay for that.”

  “Gladly,” I say under my breath, adjusting to seeing nothing but darkness. My breathing gets a little faster, and I can feel a spike of adrenaline run through my body.

  There’s a dip on the mattress, and then Chris is there again, right where he left off. He draws gasps from my lips. I never know where he’s going to touch me next. His hands push my legs apart, and I let him as his hands stroke the insides of my thighs. There’s a light brush of lips on my hip, and then another flutter near my knee. His mouth is everywhere, leaving light butterfly kisses on my legs and stomach, never touching me where I need him to be. He keeps his hands on my knees, making sure I’m just where he wants me. After what feels like an eternity of teasing, I find a pattern. Ever so slowly, his mouth is getting closer to my pussy, incrementally. I can feel how wet I am and he must be able to see it. I thrust my hips upwards in a futile attempt to show him what I want, and I hear him chuckle softly.

  “I like you like this,” Chris says. “Spread open for me, let me give you the pleasure you deserve.”

  His mouth lands on the outer edge of my pussy, and I gasp. He hasn’t gotten that close yet, and ev
en that simple touch feels like fire. His tongue flicks against my upper thigh, and I jump. He laughs, and I moan, because I can feel his breath on my clit. He’s right there, waiting.

  The touch on my clit is light, barely a brush of his lips, but it feels like everything. It’s so swollen, so sensitive, that I feel everything. I feel his lips part ever so lightly so the tip of his tongue can taste me. When it touches my clit I get a burst of pleasure, and I want more. I want his whole mouth on me, and for him to swallow me whole. But Chris is still holding me in place, and I know that I’m totally at his mercy.

  A stronger kiss now, this time at the top of my mound. “Dammit, Chris,” I say, and he bursts out laughing. “You really are killing me,” I say.

  “I know.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he presses his mouth to me again. A stronger lick against my clit now, and I shudder. Now that his tongue is involved, it doesn’t stop. He starts up his random pattern with his tongue, licking me everywhere. My body won’t stop moving, trying to get more of him, and his fingers grip me harder to keep me still. He flicks his tongue up one side of my clit and down the other, sending a burst of pleasure flaring through my nerves. But it’s nothing compared to when he seals his lips around it, sucking it deep into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. My back arches straight off the bed, and I curse loudly. His laughter vibrates against my clit, and my muscles start to shake under his mouth. He sweeps his tongue across my pussy, lapping at the entrance, taking me. He dips inside, exploring me in the most intimate way I can imagine. He swirls his tongue inside, and I’ve never felt anything like that before.

  My breath is coming in gasps now. I know that he can push me over the edge any time he wants—my body is ready and begging for it—but he’s choosing to keep me here in this divine limbo where I’d be blind with pleasure even if I weren’t blindfolded.

  Something changes, and Chris starts to speed up his pace. His tongue circles my clit, every rotation making that pleasure gather tighter and tighter, ready to explode. His hands move from my knees to my hips, he lifts me against his mouth, holding me still while he consumes me like a meal. His mouth is touching every part of me, lips and tongue and teeth exploring places I didn’t know I had. But he has a way with his tongue and he’s not teasing me with randomness anymore. Instead he’s stroking my clit with a steady, uncompromising rhythm, one that’s got my mind hazy with feeling and I’m reaching out for him, begging him to finish me. I’m telling him yes, I’m begging him to lick me harder. My climax is coming closer in waves, every rise and fall bringing me a little closer to that bright finish.

  He can tell when I’m close. I can’t speak anymore, there are no more words, only pleasure and his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking. Just when I think I might be trapped in this delicious purgatory, he sucks me. Sealing his mouth over me, he sucks me harder than ever before, and my orgasm breaks over me like a tidal wave. I see nothing but white behind my eyes as my body shakes with the pleasure of it, writhing against his mouth and grasping at the sheets. There’s nothing in the world that’s ever felt like this. I think I cry out, but I can’t hear it over the rushing in my ears. It feels like it goes on forever, and Chris’s mouth keeps going, drinking me in as come. I can barely breathe. If I breathe I’ll lose it all.

  And then it’s gone, rushing out as fast as it came, leaving me limp in its absence. “Holy fuck,” I say, the only words that I can find to say.

  There’s a sharp sting on my clit and pussy and I jump, unable to identify the sensation. “Such naughty language,” Chris says, and the stinging sensation comes again, with the sound of skin on skin, followed by that stinging spreading into warmth and arousal. The floor drops out from under me with the realization, and I feel dizzy as I say the words. “Did you just spank my pussy?”

  The stinging comes again, harder this time, and I lift the blindfold to find him staring at me, his hand raised over my clit. He’s not holding me, I could close my legs, tell him to stop. But I don’t. He’s looking at me, and I at him, and he sees the moment I choose not to stop him. I see his hand drop, and the pain followed by pleasure follows quickly. “I’m not into pain,” I tell him. I’m not. I’ve never wanted someone to hurt me, and yet… “Are you?”

  “Real pain?” he says. “No. But I have found that just a little can sometimes make it better.” His hand falls again, and he rubs his hand over my pussy guiding the pain quickly into heat and pleasure. He’s not wrong.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, raising his hand.

  I should want him to stop. I should tell him that this is crazy. I shouldn’t let him do this. But the curious part of me wants to know why this feels the way it does, wants just a little bit more of the bite, wants him to do whatever he wants to me. “No,” I say. His hand falls again, and I gasp at the fiery pain, transmuted quickly. The heat gathering in my core is unexpected, and I can feel my pussy getting wet again under his attention. He notices too, pushing a finger deep into me, spreading my wetness across my skin. He spanks my pussy again, and my hips arch off the bed in surprise. That last was harder than before, and it takes his fingers caressing me a few seconds before the fire turns into yearning.

  “You’re so surprising,” he says, running his fingers through my folds. “And another time, I might want to see if I could make you come just like this.”

  I shudder at the thought, at how wrong it seems, and how good I think it might be. “Another time?” I ask, a little breathlessly.

  He crawls up my body again. “Another time,” he says. “Right now, I’m going to keep my promise.”

  “Which one?”

  His wicked smirk answers me.

  8

  Chris

  I can’t help but smile. Which promise? The only one I’ve made her. I rake my eyes up and down her body, loving the way she looks spread out underneath me, breathless, panting, and already looking like she’s been thoroughly fucked. Her pretty pussy is glistening with juices, just waiting for me. My cock twitches, and I lean down to whisper in here ear. “The only promise I made you—to be fucked harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.” I pull back in time to see her eyes flare with desire. Whatever idiot screwed up that shrimp dish at the party…thank fuck.

  I roll off the bed, digging in my bag for the condoms that I carry with me, in the hope…

  It’s been a long time since I’ve a chance to use any of the packages I’ve bought.

  “Turn over,” I tell her. She does, and I climb onto the bed behind her, pulling her to her knees so her ass is displayed in front of me like the hottest wet dream I’ve ever had. I rip open the condom, and I’m so hard that rolling it on has never been easier. I trace her ass with my hands, running my fingers through her folds again. She’s soaking wet, and I can see the beginning of her wetness dripping down her thighs. “Are you ready?” I ask, pressing her chest down to the bed so her ass is even higher in the air.

  “Yes.” Her voice is quivering with anticipation.

  I fit my cock against her entrance and I hear her take a breath. “Good.” I push all the way into her in one stroke, and she moans. Her pussy is gripping me like a goddamn vice and I love it. She squeezes those muscles and it feels so good that it hurts. My breath is shallow, because I don’t want to disturb this moment. I want to remember it. I haven’t felt this good in a long time. I haven’t felt so relaxed and open, and I manage a laugh. Damn it all, those bastards at the meeting were right. But I’m not going to think about them right now, because I promised to fuck Scarlett into oblivion, and I plan on doing just that. I pull back just an inch, and I see her hips move with me, seeking more of me, and I know she’s ready.

  Gripping her hips, I pull out to the tip, slamming back in to the hilt while pulling her back onto me. God, it feels like coming home. And I don’t stop. There’s a brutal energy in me, and I let it out, pounding into her pussy with everything that I’ve got. I feel free and feral, like a new man claiming what’s his. I watch as Scarlett’s hands grasp t
he sheets, as her back arches into the bed, as her fucking toes are curling next to me, and I love that I’m the one doing this to her. The sounds coming out of me as I thrust are sounds that I’ve never heard myself make before, and the sound of our skin slapping together is making me even harder.

  I don’t know how it’s possible that this girl I didn’t know a day ago is doing this to me, but I’ve never felt this alive. Circling her waist with my arm, I pull her up and back against me, so her back is pressed against my chest, and I’m still buried as deep as I can be. “How do you like it?” I ask her as her head falls back onto my shoulder. I slow my thrusting and roll my hips with hers. I reach down with one hand to tease her already sensitive clit, and she cries out at my touch. “Like what?” she asks, her voice telling me she’s barely thinking straight enough to say the words.

  I place my lips against her neck, licking her skin. I love the way she tastes—sweet and warm sugar all over. “How do you like me being buried inside your pussy?” I say, thrusting up to the hilt. Her fingers dig into the arm I have wrapped around her. She doesn’t answer right away, instead moaning my name as I push into her again and again and again. She’s so hot inside, like my own personal volcano that I can’t get enough of. Every time I thrust it’s like my cock is touching heaven. “What was that?”

  “More,” she says faintly.