by Lila Younger
“Please,” I murmur, not sure what exactly it is I want him to do.
Spencer’s hand runs down my side, cups my ass. He squeezes appreciatively, before he parts my legs. I’m turning towards him, opening myself up to him. His touch is scorching, and I’m trying hard to remember to breathe. He licks my nipple again, nibbles at the peak in a way that drives me wild. My pussy is pulsating with desire, my clit a single point of need. His fingers trail up, pets my pussy lips. I’m so wet that it’s a waterfall, dripping down onto the bed, covering his fingers.
“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” he drawls, releasing my breast.
I nod mutely.
“Good,” he says, pushing off the bed.
He drops down onto the floor, yanks me so that I’m dangling off the edge of the bed. His hands are on my hips, his stubble rough against my inner leg as he kisses his way to my center. My folds are slick and steaming, rosy pink and ready to be taken. His tongue sweeps forward, licking up from bottom to top. And then he’s sucking on my clit, hard and rough, answering my aching plea with pleasure. I moan, hands fisting in the sheets as he does it again. I want him so badly, that nothing else matters.
“Jesus you taste good,” he says, the fire in his voice breaking through that calm at last.
Spencer dives back in, his tongue pressing into my virgin entrance. I’ve never had a man go down on me before, but it felt so good that I forgot to feel self-conscious. The ladies from earlier did an amazing job with me, my whole pussy is bare and soft, the lightest pink as my nether lips puffed up under his touch. He slides his tongue over my slick cunt, sucking on my swollen folds. I could feel another gush of liquid as he feasted on my pussy, my pussy glistening and ready to be taken. My head tilts back into the mattress, my chest heaving as he kisses my pussy and circles my clit again with his tongue. Just when I don’t think I can take any more, his reaches between my folds, parts me so he can push his tongue deeper, hitting that sweet spot that makes me see stars. My hips arch off the mattress, desperate to get closer to that tongue of his. He rubs my clit with his thumb, thrusting into me hard and fast.
“Spencer,” I gasp. “Oh, Spencer, I-”
My hips rise up even higher. Not even his other hand can restrain me. I want this, I want all of this, a scorching hot need that leaves nothing in its path. I can feel the pressure building inside of me, inching higher as he thrusts his fingers roughly into me. The walls of my pussy tighten against him, clench down against the intrusion. His tongue fucks me faster, pleasure cascading through me in waves. I whimper helplessly as he moves hard and fast, my whole body concentrated on how stuffed he makes me feel, and then he lifts his head just enough to lock those green eyes with mine.
“Come for me Tessa. Now.”
And I do, crying out his name as pleasure arcs through my body. He pushes his face deep against my pussy, my whole body quivering and spasming as I come onto him. His thumb rubs my clit over and over, making me dizzy with release. I feel my vision blacking out, my whole body tightening and exploding in bursts of pleasure.
My god. It’s no wonder Michelle can’t seem to go without this.
Chapter 4
Spencer gets up from his position at the end of the bed, pulls his phone out and takes the call. I lift my head, and I can see his erection clearly outlined in his pant suit. He’s big, all right, maybe even bigger than that toy, and I’m going to have to return the favor. I’m not sure if I can follow up on what he did for me, but I’m going to try. My orgasm still has me feeling weak, and I lean back down on the bed, closing my eyes.
I can hear Spencer as he paces the room. He’s angry, his voice tightly controlled and low, and I can’t make out the words. I feel sorry for the guy on the other line. Whatever is happening though, it must be urgent.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he hangs up. “I have to go now. Let’s pick this up again tomorrow. Will you be alright getting home?”
I sit up in confusion.
“Something’s come up at the Belmont,” he says, referring to his biggest casino. “I’m needed.”
I nod. He’s the owner, so I can’t imagine he would be called in for something small. He’s probably got tons of employees to handle everything. Whatever it is, it must be really important.
“Oh, of course,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“I’ll call you,” he says.
He pauses, gazing at me hungrily, and I feel self-conscious.
“What is it?”
“I wanted to remember this for later,” he says. He grins at me. “We’ll continue this tomorrow Tessa.”
And with that, he leaves.
I fall back down on the bed. This is certainly not what I envisioned was going to happen. I’m kind of glad though. I don’t want to lose my virginity here, even if I was bought by Spencer. I can’t believe I’m doing this. All of this. But as the mirror above me can attest to, I have.
Finally I get back up. I have no idea where my clothes are, or where I’m supposed to go. I look around the room and spy a telephone on the far side of the wall. A place like this probably would have someone on hand for if special requests were needed. I walk over and pick up the phone, and I’m right.
“What can I do for you?” a female voice asks.
I don’t want to say that I didn’t fulfill my contract. That just sounds bad. Technically I have a week, but I have no idea how Honey Foxes would react if I didn’t close the deal. They might get worried that a client who doesn’t get what he wants would demand a refund.
“I’m all done here,” I say instead, which is technically true. “Where should I go to pick up my stuff?”
She gives me the instructions, and I say them to myself to make sure I remember. Then I tie my bikini back on, grab the heels, and head out.
To my surprise, not a single person stops me. I hurry as much as I can, changing back into my own clothes, returning the bikini and heels, and head back out. They have a staff entrance that’s at the far end of the parking lot, and it’s already dark out. It didn’t seem like I was in there for very long, but I guess it must be. My mom would probably be pretty worried, I realize, and I pull out my phone to text her and let her know that I would be home soon. Next, I pull up my bank information on my phone. I didn’t think I would already be paid, but to my surprise the money is there. I’ve never seen so many digits on my balance.
“Don’t get too excited yet Tessa,” I tell myself. “You still have to do the deed first.”
But it does make me feel pretty fantastic seeing that I’ve finally found a solution to our problems, and that it’s actually happening. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel now. Finally, after everything my mom’s done for us, all those extra shifts, all those times she’s had to work extra at the end of the month to make ends meet, all those missed opportunities because she had to take care of me… I can finally be the one to do things for her for a change.
I spend my entire drive home trying to figure out how to tell my mom all about this without telling her about this. I know that I could say I won it at a casino, but she’s always been against gambling. From when I was very little, she drilled it into me that old saying ‘the house always wins’. She’s seen firsthand how easily a life can be ruined by slots, cards, every kind of game they have. She’s even hinted to me a few times that that’s why she never married my bio father and he isn’t a part of our lives. So even though I could say that I won it, I know that she would be so disappointed and hurt that I went against her. And I don’t want that. Not when the money should be a source of joy for her.
My mind cycles through a bunch of other explanations, each of them less believable than the next. Finally I give up. Maybe it’s best that I don’t spend the money quite yet anyways, not until the week is over and I’ve given my virginity to Spencer. Just in case.
When I walk through our apartment’s doors, I’m greeted by the smell of lasagna. It’s a comforting smell, and a happy one, because it mea
ns mom felt well enough today to cook.
“I’m home,” I call out, and mom comes around the corner to greet me.
She’s lost her hair, and she’s very thin now, but she’s still my mom in all the ways that matter. We actually look quite alike, especially when we’re both smiling. I’m glad I inherited most of my looks from her instead of my dad. Both of us are short too, and we’re both musically talented, although mom likes to sing rather than play instruments. She used to sing in church, although she doesn’t go now. I get the feeling it’s because of my grandparents’ reaction when she got pregnant. Even to this day, my mom won’t talk to them. Once in a while grandma calls, and they always send cards on her birthday. When I asked why they don’t send me a card, she told me it’s because she never told them when my birthday was. As far as she was concerned, they turned their back on her when she needed them most, and she hates that they try to gloss over that fact. She refuses to speak to them, not until they apologize. When I asked her how they could when she refuses to speak to them, she got pissed and told me to go play on my own.
“Hey you,” she says. “What have you been up to?”
“I had a job interview,” I tell her, moving towards my bedroom.
“Job interview?” She frowns. “Weren’t you with Michelle?”
Oops. That’s right. I completely forgot about my note. I’ve never had reason to lie to my mom after all.
“I did that too,” I say, and then I change the subject quickly before she figures out the truth. “You’re cooking my favorite. Does that mean you’re feeling better?”
“A bit,” she says. I can tell that she’s hasn’t completely bought my explanation, but she doesn’t push it. “It’s been ages since we’ve sat down to dinner together, so I thought it would be nice to over a home cooked meal instead of mac and cheese.”
She catches the sheepish look on my face.
“I can see the boxes in the recycling basket, Tessa,” she continues. “That stuff isn’t good for you. Honestly, after all those cooking lessons I gave you, you still go back to that junk. Anyways, dinner is going to be in twenty minutes.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
I duck into my room. The first thing I do is open my laptop and do a Google search on Spencer Belmont. His picture pops up, and it’s definitely him. Same dark eyes, same controlled expression, same perfectly chiseled cheekbones. Next I jump over to his Wikipedia page. Some facts I already knew, like how he owned a bunch of casinos here in Vegas. But there was a lot that I didn’t, like his age (35, which is a lot more than I thought, given his looks). I scan over his biography. His father started with one hotel and casino, the Belmont, before acquiring and growing his empire. Spencer grew up in complete wealth, living at a penthouse suite at the very top of the casino, spoiled by every employee. After graduating from business school at Harvard, he returned to take over his father’s company, demolishing and expanding the Belmont into the second largest hotel and casino complex in the United States, as well as increasing the hotel side of the business into a series of high end resorts and hotels around the world.
I scrolled down a little further, to the personal history. As interesting as it was to read his history, what I really wanted to know was whether he had a girlfriend, or had been married. There’s surprisingly little in that section. All it said was that he’s single, although he had a fiancé at one period in his life. The engagement was called off when he found out that she had cheated. In retaliation, she published, which was swiftly shut down by Spencer’s lawyers. It claims that he’s a ruthless tyrant, a workaholic, a man who has no other goal than to chase for more money. There have been no other women since.
Well that explains a lot, I think. It wasn’t that Spencer can’t find a woman. It’s just easier to have a Honey whose contracts already have a confidentiality clause in it. I can’t imagine what he must have felt, not only to have been betrayed, but to then have his whole personal life bared open for anyone to see. I’d be pretty wary of getting involved again too. I wish there was a copy of the biography for me to read though, not because I would believe it, but because I do want to know more about him. Something about that carefully controlled exterior makes me want to peer underneath it, to see what sort of man Spencer is when he lets his guard down.
Our doorbell rings as I try to find out whether or not there’s a pirated version of the book, but I pay it no mind. The book was published briefly three years ago, so there must be an e-book version, and if that’s the case, it might still be there on the internet. A few minutes later, my mom knocks on my door.
“Tessa,” she says. “There’s a delivery for you.”
“I didn’t buy anything.”
“Well, someone did.”
I get off the bed and follow her back down the hallway. There’s at least ten bags with a bunch of different logos on them in our tiny living room, piled on the couch and the floor in front of it. The guy delivering all this shows up at the door again, with four more bags in his hands. He’s smartly dressed in a suit and tie.
“That’s the last of it,” he says. “Have a good night Ma’am. Miss.”
He closes the door behind him. My mom and I look at each other, baffled.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Just that it’s for you,” my mom says. She picks up a bag. “Tessa, this stuff is expensive.”
I take the bag from her and sit cross legged on the floor. The package inside is wrapped up in tissue paper. I rip it open, and unfold a gorgeous off the shoulder red dress, the silk slipping through my fingers like water. Mom’s right, this is pricey stuff. I pull set it aside and lift up the next dress. It’s a black number, completely backless, a slinky gorgeous dress for a red carpet.
“Wow,” I breathe.
I go through more of them. In some I spy lingerie (which I carefully leave in the bag), while others hold jeans, tops, swimsuits, bags, and heels. There’s a dizzying amount of clothes here, and each piece is probably more than my paychecks. I feel almost nauseous at how much money has been spent. There’s only one person this could have come from, but I don’t really understand why he would give me all this. He must have asked the company for my address. I don’t know how that sits with me.
“What’s going on Tessa?” my mom asks. “Who got you all this?”
I honestly have no clue what to say, so I go with what’s closest to the truth.
“It’s from a guy,” I tell her. “I’m sort of seeing him.”
Mom raises an eyebrow.
“So he bought you a whole new wardrobe?” she asks skeptically. “Why haven’t I heard about this guy before?”
“He… he’s got money. I mentioned that I needed a new pair of jeans and I guess he decided to get me all of this. It’s not really too serious between us right now, and you’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to tell you about him yet.”
My mom nods slowly, but I can tell she’s not buying it. I wouldn’t either. I hate lying, absolutely hate it, and not just because I’m really bad at it.
“Well, it certainly is nice of him,” she says at last. “Just, be careful okay Tessa? I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I made. Men like that, who are used to buying whatever they want, can be very forceful sometimes.”
No kidding. I’ve never met anyone like Spencer before in my life. When I’m around him, I feel off balance and confused. But there’s no way I’m going to admit that and make mom worry more.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell her instead, grabbing the clothes. “I’ve got it all under control.”
Which is the biggest lie I’ve told my mom yet.
Chapter 5
The next day, Spencer texts me, letting me know that he’ll be picking me up at six for dinner. It works out perfectly, because mom’s not going to be home until seven, and I’ll be safely gone by then. Wear the red dress, he adds.
I spend most of the day getting ready. He doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but I’m as
suming by the choice of attire that it’s something fancy. The only thing is, there’s lots of fancy places in Vegas. Which one will he pick? There’s no sense in guessing, I think. The name Spencer Belmont can unlock any door, and clearly he wants to surprise me. It’s actually a pretty nice thought when I think about it. He’s really going out of his way to make this experience pleasant for me, which is more than I can say for Michelle’s Tindr dates. Half of them don’t even wait until the end of the date to start groping her.
Since I don’t have a staff of professionals helping me out, it takes me a lot longer than usual to get ready. I don’t have a curling iron, so I pull my hair up instead. Spencer wants me in the red dress, which is a showstopper, so I decide to pair it with just a white gold bracelet he’s given me. I put on light pink gloss, a bit of mascara, and just a little bit of eye shadow, enough to look like I’ve done something. I skip the blush, because I know that I’ll do more than enough of that naturally.
He’s also sent me at least five pairs of heels, and he must have seen how much trouble I had walking in them, because all of them have heels under two inches. Just enough to be sexy, without risking a twisted ankle. Is there anything he misses? I wonder. Probably not. You don’t get to rule the Strip by not noticing the details. Of course, he’s also made note of my measurements, because the lingerie he’s sent fits me like a glove. I pull on the black sexy strapless bustier, along with the matching black panties, more see-through lace than anything else.
Lastly, I pull on the dress. The silk slides over my skin, and when I zip it up, I feel like a model. It’s breathtaking, and I make a note to hang up the dress tonight so I can save it for another occasion maybe. At least once everything’s over, I still have this to remember it all by.
