by Roxy Sloane
Anyone else, I would quit right now and go find some easy suck at the bar, but I remember that flush on her cheeks when I talked about lapping her cunt and the dazed look in her eyes.
She’ll flush like that when I’m screwing her hard against the bathroom sink, watching her come her brains out in the mirror as I pound into her dripping wet channel.
Dammit.
I head inside after her. She wanders the main galleries, looking at exhibits, then takes a seat on a bench in front of this one painting. It’s abstract, huge slashes of color, but the way Keely is gazing at it, you’d think she was looking at God.
I want her to look up at me like that -- with my cock shoved deep in her mouth.
“Hey.” I slide onto the bench next to her, enjoying the way she gasps, almost jumping right out of her seat.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” I lean closer. “You owe me dinner.”
She turns back to the painting across from us, her eyes fixating on a slice of red running through its center. “I said no.”
“Why?” I counter, trailing a fingertip down the side of her throat. She shivers under my touch, her breathing getting shallow. “I can tell you want me. So why keep pushing me away?”
“You’re a client.” She tears her eyes away from the art to glare at me, scooting away from me on the bench. “It would be wrong.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Keely.” I inch closer on the bench. “The things we think are wrong? They’re the ones that feel so goddamn right.”
“Please. You’re so sure I want you.” She shakes her head again, looking back at the painting, the plaque next to it—anywhere but at me. “I can’t.”
Can’t.
That’s when I know I’ve got her. Not ‘won’t.’ Not ‘isn’t going to happen.’
She’s hot for me, she wants my cock just as much as the rest of them. The only thing standing between me and this sweet pussy is whatever bullshit voice of reason is shouting me down in her mind.
So I just have to make it stop. Stun her with lust and danger so she doesn’t have time to listen.
I glance around. The gallery room is almost empty, just a few people checking out the exhibit at the other end of the hall and an older couple nearby.
“Have you ever had sex before?” I ask casually.
“What?” Her eyes flash in shock.
“You heard me.” I straddle the bench, watching her body tense. “I’m just wondering why you’re acting like a scared school-girl every time I talk about fucking you. Hey, there’s no shame in it,” I add. “I love teaching virgins.”
Her cheeks flush, looking angry. “I’m not a virgin,” she mutters. “I’ve seen a man’s penis before, thank you very much.”
I give a lazy laugh. “This isn’t an anatomy class. You can say cock. Not that flaccid thing your high-school boyfriend slipped inside you for ten seconds in the backseat of his daddy’s Camaro. Not the tiny dick your ex jackhammered away at you with, that you could barely even feel for shit. I’m talking about a real man’s cock. Hard. Big. A fucking animal.”
I lean closer, seeing her breath catch. Her pupils dilate with desire. “You want it, don’t you?” I whisper. “To know what that feels like. When it hurts to take all the way but you just can’t help it because it feels so damn good.”
She stares at me. Her lips moisten. Damn, I could use those around my dick right now.
“You’re making pretty bold promises,” Keely says with an edge in her voice. “I bet you’re all talk and no trouser.”
I laugh. “I’ll make you come your fucking brains out. You’ll be on your knees, begging for the chance to suck me off.”
“I don’t believe you.” She meets my eyes in a brazen stare. Damn, this girl’s got more guts than I thought.
“Try me.” I get up off the bench.
“What?”
“Bathroom. Now.”
She scoffs. “Stop dicking around.”
“You questioned my manhood. The least you can do now is let me prove you wrong.”
I see the struggle clear on her face: the war between curiosity and good girl bullshit manners. It’s same fight I see every woman go through, just because society decided getting off for the sake of pure pleasure is some kind of crime. Fuck, I could murder the guys who figured that one out, probably some frustrated pussies who couldn’t get laid and wanted the rest of us to suffer right along with them.
Keely goes back and forth, her indecision clear on her face. Finally she looks me straight in the eyes. “Let’s go.”
I see the challenge in her stare. She thinks she’s won by calling my bluff, but we’ll see who comes out on top.
“I’m insane,” she mutters to herself, rising to her feet.
“Wait thirty seconds,” I instruct her. “Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about you.” I wink, leaving her blushing as I saunter to the single restroom at the back of the hall. A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door.
Keely peeks her head around, then quickly darts inside, locking the door tight behind her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says, cheeks red. “But just a look, I’m not hooking up with you. This is a strictly business relationship.”
“Sure thing.” I reach for my belt buckle, then unzip my fly. I’m commando under my jeans, and as I yank them over my thighs, I hear a gasp slip from those luscious lips.
Ladies, meet your wildest fantasy.
Some people say, size doesn’t matter. Those fucking pussies don’t know shit. Because even just a glimpse of what I’m packing makes Keely shiver with lust.
“Satisfied?” I ask with a grin. She’s staring at it, wide-eyed, her breath coming fast. Damn. I feel myself start to get hard, and I give myself a couple of tugs, swelling even larger under my hand.
She takes a couple of steps closer. “I’ve never seen...” she swallows. “How do you even...?”
“Fit?” I finish, still lazily jerking myself. “Believe me, honey, once I’ve warmed you up right, you’ll be ready.”
“Can I...” she reaches hesitantly, her eyes already dilated with curiosity and desire.
“Be my guest.”
Her fingers close around me, soft. Her breath catches. “I can hardly hold you,” she murmurs.
“That’s called girth,” I tell her, watching the way her cheeks flush. She strokes me, whisper-soft, and I stifle a groan. “Harder, baby, I won’t break.”
She sucks in a breath, and squeezes tighter. Her eyes never leave my dick as she slowly pumps her fist up and down. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Like that.”
Bolder, Keely brings her other hand in, stoking over my tip as she pumps from the base. My cock is all woken up now, straining under her touch, veins bulging thick along my stem. Her delicate fists work up and down, sliding along the length of me, wet with pre-cum.
I sink back against the wall. “Fuck, that feels good.”
She looks up with a devilish smile. “It does?”
One hand dips beneath my legs, cupping my balls in a soft squeeze, and then reaching further, stroking my taint.
“Fuck!” I exclaim in surprise, feeling my cock leap to attention. “Do that again.”
Instead, Keely pulls her hand away. I look over in frustration. She’s still pumping me one-handed, a torturous rhythm that’s driving me out of my damn mind. With a wicked grin, she slips her free hand down the front of her skirt, under her panties.
What the fuck?
She gasps, touching herself as she jerks me off. I can’t believe it, she looks so fucking innocent. I let out a groan, crazy with lust, and then Keely pulls her hand out again, wet with her juices, and slides it up and down my dick in a slippery vice grip.
Fuck.
I’m losing it here, the pressure of her hand and the warm, wet drip of her juices. Dammit, I want to taste her, so I grab her wrist away and bring her fingers to my lips, sucking hard.
She lets out a whimper. Her eyes are bri
ght with desire, she’s panting right along with me. She pumps hard, circling my head with her thumb, playing with the ridge of my cock. Damn, she’s good. I growl, thrusting up against her hand, desperate for release. What I wouldn’t give to be inside her right now, fucking her cunt, her asshole, her lips.
The door handle jiggles. “Oh, I’m sorry,” a voice comes from outside.
Keely freezes in shock.
“Don’t stop,” I growl, forcing her face back to mine. “Harder.”
She flicks her eyes nervously to the door, but she obeys, closing her fist around me, pumping fast. I feel it rise, fuck yeah, a goddamn tsunami.
There’s another knock. “Excuse me, will you be much longer?”
“Just wait a goddamn minute!” I roar. I could come right now, shove her down on her knees and plunge my cock in her mouth, spurting my seed down her throat, but something stops me.
I want to make her feel this too. I need to make this girl come.
Shove her back against the wall, I yank up her skirt up and push her panties aside, plunging two fingers deep inside her wet pussy. She lets out a cry of shock and pleasure as I sweep my thumb hard across her clit and she breaks, shuddering around me as my world implodes and I come and come and come, spurting my juices into her eager hands.
I catch my breath. She stumbles back. “I said... I said I wasn’t hooking up with you,” she gasps.
“Plans change.”
“But--” Her perfect lips open in another goddamn complaint, so I fill it with my fingers instead, still dripping with her slick juice.
“You came. Is that a problem?”
She blinks, slowly opening her mouth again. I wait for a whine, but instead, her lips curl in a delighted grin.
“I’ve never orgasmed with a man before. With someone else, I mean.”
I yank my jean back up and rinse my hands. “If you’re still standing, and able to string two words together, that wasn’t an orgasm.”
She frowns. “What was it then?”
“A rehearsal.”
NINE
KEELY
You’re insane. You don’t even know him and you’re hooking up in the bathroom?
The minute my orgasm fades away, and I realize what I’ve just done, I bolt from the museum bathroom and I don’t look back.
Slut.
Humiliation crashes through me as I race blindly down the sidewalk, so fierce I want to die. How could I lose my mind so completely? One minute, I’m sitting in the gallery, doing my best to stay cool under his teasing stare, and the next...
You’re up against the wall, close to the edge just from the feel of him, so hard and massive in your hands.
Oh God! Just thinking the words in my head make me want to hide away in shame. What was I thinking, letting a man talk to me like that -- touch me like that? A stranger. A client!
I drive home in a sick nauseous panic. What if he tells my boss what we did? I’ll be fired for sure.
I don’t know how it even happened. I was trying to keep things professional, but there he was, trying to provoke me, saying more of those shocking, sexy things that I should have hated but really made my thighs clench with lust.
So I called his bluff.
I thought it was the only way to make him quit. I should have known a man like him, so sexy and dangerous, would have the goods to back it up.
And boy, he’s got the goods.
Even the memory of his fingers inside me makes my breath catch. And he had to be eight, nine inches, easy -- as big as the dildo my friend Helen got at her bachelorette party last year. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before: thick and hard, his bulbous tip straining, the vein bulging down the length of him. Back then, we all giggled and joked that men like that didn’t exist.
But he does.
I couldn’t help myself, just the sight of it made my body tremble with desire. It was like some deep feminine instinct took over, blocking all rational thought from my mind. I had to touch him, know what it was like. And once my fingers were wrapped around him, I couldn’t stop.
Watching the desire on his face as I touched him. He is so sure about everything, I had to show him what I could do. Push him to the edge and see him lose control.
God, I loved it. The power.
I’ve never done anything so reckless and sexy in my life, and even now, the memory feels like it happened to someone else. An impostor. An out of body experience. Some other girl, hijacking my body and making me do the naughty things I’ve only ever read about in books that I hide on my Kindle at night.
And then when Vaughn touched me...?
The way he worked with my body, the things he did with his fingers... It was the most mind-blowing, intense orgasm of my life.
I’m losing my mind.
It’s Friday, so thankfully I don’t have to face everyone at work for the next two days. I stay home, busily doing all the chores I’ve been avoiding as a punishment for my behavior. I clean the oven and scrub the bathroom floor, do a million loads of laundry, and cook a month’s worth of nutritious meals to freeze in tupperware so I don’t wind up eating junk-food takeout for dinner again. And all the while, I block out every thought of Vaughn and what happened in that museum bathroom.
It was madness. It was a crazy mistake. It’ll never, ever, happen again.
By Monday morning the knot in my stomach has turned into a giant black hole, swallowing me up in shame and guilt. I drive to work feeling like I’m going to my own execution: my palms sweating as I step into the elevator and hit the floor.
This is it. Time to face the music.
“Wait up!” Justine comes skidding into the elevator at the last second. She catches her breath as the doors close. “You look nice.”
“I do?” I look down. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning with panic, so I had extra time this morning to blow-dry my hair and pick out an outfit. I even did my makeup too -- lingering in front of the mirror to delay the inevitable. “Thanks.”
If I’m going to be fired and thrown out of the offices, at least I’ll look good, marching out of the elevator with my box full of office supplies.
The doors open. Justine steps out. I can’t move.
“Coming?” She frowns.
I gulp, and slowly edge after her, my heart pounding in my chest. The girl at reception gives us a bland nod. A couple of lawyers pass us in the hall with a friendly smile.
I check around to be sure, but everything seems normal. No glares. No whispers. No mob with flaming pitch-forks. Maybe Vaughn didn’t report me. Maybe I’m safe---
“Fawes!”
Carter’s yell echoes through the office. My blood runs cold. This is it. The end of my career. He comes charging out of his office, and my heart stops. He’s going to do it right here, in front of everyone.
Oh God.
I brace myself, shaking.
“Where’s the Montgomery file?” Carter demands.
“I’m sorr--” I start to grovel my apology, before realizing what he’s just said. “Wait, what?”
“The fucking file!” Carter yells. “I just had them on the phone, and I couldn’t tell them one damn thing.”
“It was on your desk,” I stammer, my mind racing.
“Of course it was on my desk!” Carter bellows. “You think I don’t know that? Where the fuck is it now is the question.”
Then I remember I had it with me when Vaughn showed up. I must have taken it by mistake when I was distracted.
“I’ll find it now.”
“You better,” Carter threatens. “Or I’ll have you out on your ass faster than you can say--”
“Mr. Abrams.” His assistant, Erin, tugs on his sleeve, looking terrified.
“What the fuck?” he demands.
“You have a client,” she whispers, wide-eyed. “Here.”
Carter spins around. “Oh. I...” He falls silent, and clears his throat. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Clearly.”
Vaughn.
I freeze, blood rushing to my cheeks -- and another, more private place.
Carter stands aside, still apologizing, but Vaughn ignores him, meeting my gaze with an amused grin. “Miss Fawes,” he says with a smirk. “So good to see you again.”
“You’ve met?” Carter looks back and forth between us.
I panic, waiting for Vaughn to reveal the truth, but instead, he answers smoothly.
“You were indisposed on Friday, so Miss Fawes was kind enough to take the meeting,”
He winks.
I blink in shock. Does this mean he’s not going to tell? Relief washes over me, but part of me stays alert. Uneasy.
What else does he want with me?
“I’m sorry,” Carter is sneering. “She’s just an assistant.”
“A paralegal,” Vaughn corrects him. “And she was more than helpful. She guided me through the process to a very satisfying conclusion. I was in very able hands.”
What is he playing at? My cheeks flush hot, and I’m sure people can tell what he is alluding to. I can’t take this anymore. Thank god Carter is so self-obsessed, he probably didn’t notice.
“I have to get that Montgomery file,” I mutter quickly, turning on my heel and fleeing down the hallway. I’ve turned the corner, heading for the safety of my cubicle, when I feel a hand grab my arm and I’m suddenly pulled into the privacy of a small alcove.
I gasp, finding myself pressed up against Vaughn’s muscular body for the third time in a week. “What are you doing?” I yelp, as his hand slides up my thigh. “Stop that!”
“I didn’t hear any complaints last time.” Vaughn leans closer, his breath hot against my throat.
I feel a twist of lust, but I fight it back and shove him away. “That was a mistake,” I tell him, “It can’t happen again.”
“I bet you a hundred bucks it will.” Vaughn reaches out and pops my top button open, his finger grazing my skin. I shiver. I should step away, redo my blouse—but something stops me. “Have dinner with me, tonight,” he says. “I promise, you’ll be too busy coming all over my tongue to care about losing the bet.”
My stomach clenches. Dear God, but he’s sexy when he talks like that. I have a sudden flashback to the bathroom: his fingers inside me, his body grinding against mine.
