by Scott, Gigi
Suddenly he grasps my hand and kisses it. My heart stops beating for a second as I watch him open his lips and suck my finger. I feel his soft tongue twirling on my fingertip. My belly clenches and my thighs tingle.
I lick my lips, imagining how good it would be if his tongue were in my mouth.
Mike seems to have heard me, because he swoops down to claim my lips, while clutching my back tightly with his hand.
Oh, my God. His lips are so much softer than they look, and just having them brushing against mine sends shivers down my spine. From online researches, I know what a good kiss is supposed to feel like: your knees become weak, your body goes limp. And this is exactly how I feel. Even better, I feel firework on my skin—wow.
As I moan, Mike presses me tighter against him. I feel his hot body through the thin layers of fabrics between us, and I grind my breasts against him, because they wouldn’t stop tingling.
Soon I’m sitting on Mike’s lap. His cock has become hard and I can see it standing upright under his jeans like a tent pole. I move to nudge my pelvis against it and make him groan.
Without breaking our kiss, I thrust both my hands into his thick curly brown hair and caress his head. My hand travels down to rub his neck and his shoulder. I meant to give him a gentle massage, an advice I gave my callers. But a fire in me makes me impatient and wild. I end up pinching and scratching his skin.
Mike suddenly pulls away. His eyes are fierce as he stares at me. “What are you doing to me, Kitty? I’m not supposed to do this,” he says in a hoarse voice.
“But I like what you’re doing to me,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt. “I want you, Mike!”
His pupils dilate when he sees my white globes half covered by my pink lacy bra. I feel a stream of warm juice trickling down my panties just seeing the fire in his eyes. I moan as he peels my bra down and brushes his thumb along the circle of my areola. It feels so delicious.
I writhe on his lap, driven by the urge between my thighs. I watch him fondle my breasts and roll my nipples in his fingers. The moment Mike leans forward to suck my rosy point, my pussy clenches and an electric current vibrates through. Shit. I think I’ve just come. It must be the nipple orgasm that I’ve read so much about. Unbelievable!
But I want more as Mike continues to suck my tits. “Oh God,” I say. “I want you, Mike. I want your hard cock inside my pussy.”
“Damn,” he mutters after a gasp. “Where did you learn to talk dirty, Kitty?”
“Online.” I spread my legs wider so he can slide his hand under my shorts.
Soon his finger is gliding along my folds. “Holy shit, Kitty. You really want me. You’re so fucking wet.”
Mike’s crude remark turns me on. “I’ve always wanted you, Mike.”
“Since when?” he asks while he continues fingering me.
“Since, oh! Junior high? Eighth grade?” I whisper between gasps. “You were kissing your girlfriend at dad’s house. I was so jealous. I think I actually cried.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I had no idea… I wouldn’t have if I had known.” He thrusts a finger into my pussy.
“Ah,” I whimper, liking the sensation.
He swirls his fingertip along my walls for a moment, and then he thrusts it deeper.
“I love it, Mike. Don’t stop,” I say as he pauses.
He frowns. “Are you a virgin, Kitty?”
I tense. This is embarrassing. “Y…yes. Don’t tell me that’s a problem?”
He pulls out his finger, looking guilty now. “I’m so sorry, Kitty! I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“W… what do you mean?”
“I can’t do this to you. John will kill me, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh please! I’m not my dad’s baby girl anymore. I’m over eighteen and I’m an adult!”
He sighs as he adjusts my bra and buttons my blouse for me. “No, sweetie. Out of the question.”
I’m so mad I don’t speak to him on our way to Pier Steakhouse.
When Mike asks what I would like to eat, I say whatever and he orders a cowboy steak dinner with fries for me. I gobble it down without a word, gazing at the ocean in front of us as we eat, feeling his eyes glancing over me from time to time.
Thanks to the delicious food, I feel better soon. I finish the last piece of fries and say, “Thank you for dinner, Mike. It’s so good.”
“You’re welcome, Kitty. Any dessert?” Mike asks, smiling as he hands me the menu.
“Mm… yes,” I say. I’ve burned enough calories walking earlier, so it wouldn’t hurt indulging myself a bit more. “I would like the cherry cheesecake.”
The cheesecake arrives soon, a generous portion with lots of syrup and a few fresh cherries.
“I like your appetite,” Mike says as he watches me savoring my dessert.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m a ravenous girl.”
I haven’t forgiven him yet, but I’m not mad anymore. I take a cherry by the stem and stick the tip of my tongue out. I lick the cherry slowly and roll it on my tongue a few times before putting it between my teeth.
Mike’s eyes turn dark, and he swallows.
Without closing my lips, I bite through the cherry slowly and let the juice run down my chin and drip onto my shirt.
“Oops,” I say and playfully wipe the stain on the top of my breast. It’s a trick I learned online as well. This gesture should drive a man crazy and I’m testing it.
Mike’s gaze falls onto my shirt and he gulps. “You are such a naughty girl, Kitty,” he whispers and shifts in his seat.
I glance at his pants and see that the tent is back. Yep. The trick works.
I chew the cherry and spit out the pit. “Looks like you want some cherry, Mike,” I say with a seductive smile, holding a cherry and nudging it against his lips.
He grasps my hand and pushes it away, his eyes narrowing as he glares at me.
“I know what you’re doing, little girl,” he says. “You’re trying to wind me up. But you’re wasting your time. I’m a man with infinite patience.”
My smile freezes. Of course. If Mike were that easy, he would’ve been taken already, right? He would’ve been married many times already. He would’ve had a harem and with an army of children.
I feel silly about my immature attempts. I bite my lip and hold back my tears of humiliation. But I don’t want to give up. Mike is patient, and he is tough. It’s why he’s such a successful lawyer. It’s why I love him so much, for so long. I never care for guys in school because obviously none of them is as successful as Mike.
I want Mike. I could’ve headed directly home after the finals, but I told my dad I needed to stay in LA to take care of some business. The truth is I wanted to spend time with Mike. I know he’s been avoiding me for a reason. At my dad’s wedding, Mike’s eyes never left me and neither did mine leave him. The attraction we had for each other was so strong it nearly drove me crazy. I was hoping to spend time with him alone afterward, but he left without even saying goodbye.
I now know the reason. He thinks I’m off limits. I have to convince him I’m not. But how? Mike is a lawyer. How on earth am I going to win an argument against him?
I feel despaired for a moment. But then I remember what we did earlier at the beach. I recall the fire in his eyes, and I cheer up. I need to be patient, too, and maybe a bit of a strategy. I’ve saved my cherry for Mike and I’m determined to have him popped it.
I have a week to accomplish my goal, but I need a plan. I think quickly about what to do.
“Are you seeing anyone, Mike?” I ask casually on our way back to his house.
He doesn’t answer right away. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious.”
“No. I don’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too busy.”
“I see.” I stifle my smile and feel hopeful.
Before I ask more questions, he speaks as if to change the topic. “So what are your plans f
or the next week? Do you want me to take you to sightsee?”
“Not really. I’ve been to most of the places in town,” I say, knowing he’s busy. Besides, all I want is to be close to him. But I don’t say. “I can go to the beach by myself every day, if it’s fine with you.”
He pauses as he looks me up and down. “Sure. But promise me you’ll put on something less scanty.”
I blush. Damn. Does he think I’m a slut? I want to tell him I don’t normally dress this way, but would he believe it? “Yes, sir,” I say, peering up at him.
He stifles a smile. “Good girl. I’ll take you to the Getty Museum on Saturday.”
“That’ll be nice!” I say. I’ve been there once already, but I wouldn’t mind going again, especially if it’s with Mike.
After we return to Mike’s house, he works on his laptop, and I watch TV. His eyes never leave the screen of his computer. At about ten o’clock I yawn and say good night.
I shower and then I speak to my dad for half an hour on the phone, telling him what a wonderful afternoon I had with Mike and how gorgeous his ocean view house is.
I’m quite exhaustive but when I lie in bed, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Mike. I wish he were next to me. I get up and go downstairs, wanting to talk to him. But the lights are off. I come back up and head toward his bedroom, which is two doors next to mine. I see a thread of light under the door, so he’s awake.
I stand next to his door and hear a faint groan coming from his room. It sounds like he’s getting off. I listen for a while, my body burning with desire. Whatever he’s doing, I want to do it for him! I raise my hand to knock on his door, but stop midway. I don’t think he wants to be interrupted.
I go back to my room but I can’t sleep. I become even more agitated, now that I know what Mike is doing. A moment later, I reach for my phone and dial his number. He answers on the second ring. “Hi Kitty, are you all right?”
His low voice sounds very sexy and my belly clenches. My hand drifts to it involuntarily. “No, Mike. I miss you.”
He chuckles. “You saw me less than an hour ago.”
“I know, but. I want to be with you. Next to you.”
I hear his heavy breathing. “Sweetheart. Be a good girl and go to sleep.”
“I can’t. I want to hear you voice. Can we talk?”
“Sure,” he says. “What do you want to talk about?”
“What are you doing?”
He pauses. “I’m lying down, trying to sleep.”
“What’re you wearing?”
“My PJ. T-shirt and shorts.”
“Are you going commando?”
“Jesus, Kitty,” his voice turns into a whisper. “Let’s not go there again.”
“Why not?” I ask. “I know you don’t want to pop my cherry, Mike, but it doesn’t mean you don’t want me. I know you do. We can have fun over the phone without hurting anyone.”
He doesn’t speak, and my heart jumps frantically as I pray in silence that he wouldn’t hang up on me.
A moment later, I take his silence as consent, and go on.
I say in a throaty voice of a phone sex operator that I use occasionally on my clients for educational purpose. “I’m still wet for you, Mike, waiting for you to fill me.”
He groans over the phone, but he doesn’t say anything.
I continue. “Since you wouldn’t, I’ll take care of myself. I’ll put my finger inside me, and pretend it’s your hard rod.”
“Fuck,” he mutters between his breath.
“Would you stroke your cock for me too? And pretend it’s me doing it?”
I know he’s doing it from his heavy breathing, although he doesn’t say.
I go on, determine to make him hard again. “I bet it’s king-sized already. It’s long, thick, and hard, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t respond, but his breathing becomes even faster.
“I want to lick its fat head, Mike, and suck your precum. I bet it’s delicious. And then I’ll let it go all the way down my soft throat. I’ll let it out, and then back in. Your cock is so big I can hardly take every inch, but I’ll do my best, because, oh, I want you so much, Mike. I’ll do anything for you…”
I hear a loud grunt and a thump as my pussy erupts. Damn. I’m good. I think Mike just came and he dropped his phone.
I wait patiently for him to speak, and he finally did. “Holy fuck, Kitty. Have you done this a lot?”
“No, Mike. It’s my first time. I take it as a compliment. And you’re welcome.”
He huffs. “Good. But don’t do it again.”
“What? Not even to… you?”
“No. Not again.”
He hangs up right after. Shit. I wipe myself clean and lie awake for a moment longer. Does he really mean it? Not again? We’ll see about that. I fall asleep soon after with that thought.
When I wake up at seven in the morning, the room is bright despite the thick curtains. I go out to the balcony to admire the beautiful morning ocean scenery and I contemplate jogging along the beach.
Mike is out of the house already. He isn’t in his room, and neither is he downstairs. I see a note on the kitchen counter, telling me where to find breakfast and that there will be a woman name Ana coming over to cook meals for me.
After having a bowl of cereal, I take my phone and Blondie with me and spend the morning on the beach. When I return to Mike’s house, Ana, a big Latino woman has made me a sandwich and a bowl of salad. She’s tidying up the kitchen.
I chat with Ana while having my lunch. Ana works for Mike for two hours every day over the weekdays. She normally only cooks dinner for him, but this week she’ll also make lunches for me.
The chicken fillet with avocado sandwich tastes like nothing I’ve had from the restaurants before. Ana has her own sauce and ingredients. No wonder she’s worked for Mike for over five years already.
The proprietorship she assumes as she works around the kitchen makes me jealous. I make a mental note. I’ve got to learn how to cook.
Ana is in her late thirties. She has a voluptuous body, and she’s a few cup sizes larger than me. She obviously adores Mike because she doesn’t stop praising him.
“Mr. Miller is the best boss I’ve had,” she gushes. “So generous and understanding.”
I nod in agreement. Not to mention hot.
“How long have you known him?” she asks me.
“For eighteen years,” I say. “Since the day I was born.”
Dad said Mike drove Mom to the hospital to give birth to me because Dad was at work and couldn’t make it home.
“I see, nice,” Ana comments, looking a bit jealous. “So he’s like a daddy to you, huh?”
“Yeah, you can say that,” I say. And I wish he weren’t because it was the reason he wouldn’t have sex with me.
Ana steps closer to me, and suddenly blushes. “Does he have a girlfriend in Sunnyfield?”
OMG. Ana has the hots for Mike, too. My mouth falls open for a moment. “No,” I say, glaring at her. “He’s gay. It’s why he isn’t married.”
The words just flew out of my mouth. I couldn’t help it.
“No, he isn’t,” Ana glares back. “He’s had women staying over. Various women. Gorgeous, too.”
“He did?” I squeal, because of jealousy rather than surprise. My body temperature rises and I can hardly control the volume of my voice. “Well. I didn’t know. That’s news. Wow. My dad would be surprised. I guess he’s changed… I mean, he might be bisexual.”
Ana shrugs. “A lot of people are, nowadays.” But her interest in him visibly diminishes, and she doesn’t ask me anymore questions.
But I’m curious now. “When was the last time he brought a woman home?”
“As far as I know, it was probably two years ago. He went back to Sunnyfield for a wedding, and when he came back, he was different. I thought he probably met someone over there.”
“Oh really? Interesting,” I say while my brain works quickly. This couldn’t be
true. Could it be that the attraction I felt for Mike that day was as strong as what he felt for me?
After working for a couple hours online in the afternoon, I wait excitedly for Mike to come home. But he phoned me and told me to have dinner by myself because he would be late.
My excitement and patience wear out at around ten o’clock. I go to bed without seeing Mike.
The next day is pretty much the same. I spend my morning at the beach and afternoon in front of my computer. I force my eyes open until Mike comes home, but he doesn’t give me a chance to seduce him. He also turns off his cellphone so I can’t talk to him later that night.
Shit. I screwed it up. Mike is tougher than I thought. Or I’m not as good a seductress as I thought.
I toss and turn in bed, hating myself. What have I done wrong? Do I repulse Mike? OMG. He must think I’m a slut! I thought all men liked sluts? Damn. I’m so stupid. But then, if I were all prim and proper, would Mike make a move?
On Wednesday afternoon when I turn on my computer to work, it’s slow because it’s downloading updates. I know it’s going to last for a while and it’ll interfere with my communication app. I call Mike to ask for his permission to use his computer, but he doesn’t answer the phone. It’s past my regular working hour and I don’t want to wait any longer. So I turn on his computer, intending to tell him later. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
Before turning off his computer, however, I’m struck by an idea.
I click on the icon of his mailbox and send an email to my account at Talk to Kay and add it to his contacts. And then I send him an advertisement of my website.
“Having trouble with your love relationship? Not sure how to confess to her? Is he cheating on you? Maybe it’s time to move on? Call Kay! She has the answers! Testimonials…”
My heart pounds violently long after I complete my misdeed. I stare at the incoming message in Mike’s inbox, my finger itching to delete it. This is wrong. I’m not only infringing on privacy but also trying to manipulate him…but this is my only choice. Besides, all I’m doing is making sure he gets the email. Whether he’s going to read it or even open it is his business, not to mention whether he’ll contact me.
