Sharing Nicely

by Blisse, Victoria

  * * * *

  The hotel was astounding, the suite we were in was opulent but comfortable and the little balcony had a view out towards the Eiffel Tower. It was perfectly romantic.

  “What a view,” I sighed. I leaned against the edge of the steel scrollwork of the balustrade and felt the autumn breeze ruffle my hair. I was a little cold, but I didn’t mind. I was in awe of the vista, the sprawling city with quaint corner cafés and pretty white houses, tall and thin and elegant. I’d always dreamed of visiting Paris—I only wished I could stay longer.

  When I looked over my shoulder to find where Greg was because he hadn’t answered, I saw him pacing up and down past the golden scrolled fireplace with his mobile pressed to his ear. It was clearly a business call. I felt momentarily disgruntled, but then I shrugged it off. He was a billionaire businessman, would he really stop his work just because of me?

  A wicked idea crossed my mind and before I really thought I turned around. I walked back into the room and slipped off my shoes. He hadn’t noticed me, so I cleared my throat. He looked up to see me unfastening the top buttons of my blouse. His eyebrows raised but he continued to talk into the phone.

  “Can’t Robertson deal with it?”

  I sashayed closer to him, hips swaying as buttons unfastened surprisingly easily between my shaking fingers. At six feet away from him I dropped the blouse from my shoulders and fiddled with the fastening on my skirt.

  Greg’s gaze was fixed firmly on me. His voice rose.

  “Look, Victor, I have left you in charge, so you need to deal with it. Yes, I know what I told you but now I’m telling you to deal with it your bloody self!”

  Greg licked his lips. I dropped the skirt from my hips and I took another step towards him. I was bold, I was brave. Maybe it was something in the air because when I reached him, I entwined my arms around his shoulders and whispered into the ear unoccupied by a phone, “I want you to fuck me now. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

  I stalked away from him, heart thumping, and as I moved I slipped the material of my knickers down over my buttocks and let them fall from me before stepping out of them and into the bedroom.

  “Look, I’ve got something more urgent to deal with. Just go with your gut, I’ll call you later.”

  I scurried into the bedroom, pulled off my bra in a hurry and threw myself onto the bed which bounced back joyfully and enveloped me in warm, luxurious comfort.

  “Wicked, naughty girl.” I looked up to see Greg striding across to the bed, his shirt part removed and his hand on his belt buckle. “I should spank you for distracting me like that.”

  “What?” I asked, coquettishly fluttering my lashes. “I did nothing.”

  The clunk of his trousers to the floor and the addition of his weight to the bed made my stomach leap with anticipation.

  “Nothing, wench? You could well have just caused the downfall of my company.”

  “Oh, no,” I squealed as he grabbed my naked waist and pulled me to him. “I merely gave you a suggestion.”

  “A suggestion I’d have been mad to refuse,” he growled then kissed me hard, crushing the breath from my lungs.

  “Well,” I gasped when he let me up for air, “I have always been good at providing a convincing argument.”

  “Indeed”—he nodded, a sparkle of mischief in his eye—“and I am good at providing suitable punishment for bratty, beautiful girls like you.”

  He pulled me towards him. I yelped and sprawled across his lap, his erection digging into my stomach, my hands dangling down the side of the bed, my legs wrapped in the mussed up blankets.

  “Oh no,” I gasped. “Don’t spank me!”

  I’d never been spanked, never seen the attraction. As I waited there under the control of a hard, ruthless and gloriously handsome man I started to realise what I might have been missing.

  “Nope, you deserve it. Stop wiggling,” he commanded and slapped my buttocks. The impact stung but excited. I yelped. Greg stroked my arse and whispered gently, “If it’s too much, darling, shout ‘Diamonds’ and I’ll stop immediately.”

  I nodded, touched by his caring words, then thrilled by the crack of his hard hand on my soft, giving flesh once more.

  “Tell me you’re sorry,” he growled, hitting me once more. It hurt. He wasn’t holding back. I was tempted to shout out in my shock but I didn’t because beneath the pain and the embarrassment was the prickle of pleasure and the anticipation of more.

  “No,” I gasped, the heat of my arse rolling through my body, making me glow with ecstasy.

  “I will not stop”—he punctuated each word with a spank—“until you say sorry, you naughty, naughty, wicked, temptingly wonderful woman.”

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped, grinding my hips against him, the hot, harsh bloom of pain diffusing into the hot throb of desire. “I’m so sorry.”

  “And so you should be.” He stopped spanking. My arse ached more with need than the pain of impact. I wanted him to continue. “Now get up here and kiss me, so we can make up and fuck.”

  “Yes, sir.” I brought myself up on hands and knees then lifted back until my buttocks skimmed my heels. The pressure against my reddened skin made me squint and tighten up but then he leaned in and kissed me and I melted into Greg’s embrace. He wiggled down onto the bed and pulled me over him.

  “Condom,” I squeaked, my words almost refusing to leave my lips. I was eager to fuck but not that eager.

  “Got it.” Greg slipped his hand beneath the top pillow and pulled out a small, square packet. I assumed he’d put it there earlier—either that or this place had run out of chocolate mints. I kissed him and he reached beneath my body to cover himself. He barely struggled, confidently sheathing himself and doing battle with me, lip to lip and tongue to tongue.

  I settled down onto him, his cock embedding within me, stretching and arousing me, combining with the ache in my arse to consume me with bliss. I moved instinctively, my mind addled with ecstasy. I lifted and fell, my hands resting on the pillow beside his head, his hands gripped tightly on my hips. My eyes closed, unable to fight the weight of pleasure pulling them down.

  Sparks of orgasmic enjoyment erupted at every impact of crotch against crotch, and gasps, pants and moans from both of us merged together in harmony. I felt Greg labouring beneath me, lifting his hips to push him deeper into me to get more purchase. I flicked open my eyes and watched him. His cheeks were red and rosy, his lips parted and his eyes were screwed up tightly. He looked vulnerable, sexy and real and I felt a pang of something deeper than lust that intensified when his eyelids fluttered open. He met my gaze and smiled—his face was transformed with it. I read something there, something fleeting, something deep that sent a jolt of enjoyable fear through me. I closed my eyes, unable to take the intensity, and he screamed roughly, held himself deep within me as he came.

  I melted in a puddle beside him, still fizzing with sexual tension but happy not to climax. I had come once that day anyway and I was pleased to have pulled him from his business to provide him with some pleasure. So I was surprised when he turned towards me, kissed my cheek and ran his hand down my front. He swept over my breasts, fingers tickling my nipples and eliciting a soft moan from between my lips. His touch drifted lower, skimmed the curve of my stomach and dipped between my thighs. I spread them a little wider. Greg’s thick fingers tickled over my pubic hair hinting that maybe I was still open for more. I was. Where moments earlier I’d been sated and satisfied with what gratification I’d got, with the sweep of his touch along my body I was once again alive with desire.

  I wondered if he was merely teasing because his fingers stopped just short of my clit. I wanted to whimper and moan, to plead for release, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I opened my eyes and looked up, crooking my neck slightly so I met his gaze. He had his head propped on one hand, offering him a good view along the length of my body.

  I tingled under his appreciative stare. I didn’t pull away from it. I held my breath as
I waited for his reply to my voiceless challenge. Inside my mind I was goading him to make me come, laying down the orgasmic gauntlet. I wished the words would force out of my mouth but the power in his dark eyes locked them away deep inside me. I wasn’t the one in control, I just had to wait to see what his next whim would be. I was pliant and frustrated all at the same time and couldn’t have been more thankful when his fingertips grazed my clit.

  I closed my eyes and pleasure tore through me, centring my attention on the fingers that explored me. Greg took his time stroking my slippery folds. Weak and painfully turned on, I didn’t have the energy to lift a limb, to move my body, to direct him to what I wanted. I lay compliant beneath him as his lips tickled my collarbone in time with his seeking digits.

  By the time his kisses rolled down to my nipples I was hanging on the very edge of ecstasy. I knew that just a few well-positioned strokes would bring me to climax. I wanted it desperately, but at the same time I didn’t want it. I didn’t want the tension, the anticipation to end. I was so sexually alive and I felt so good being out of control for once. I wanted it to go on forever, even if I would expire from the pressure building up inside me to come.

  Greg sucked my nipple hard and slid his fingers to my clit. I tightened, anticipating the last moment of want, eagerly awaiting the breaking climax. He surprised me once more by resting his finger there on top of my wet need and lifting away from my nipple. My eyes flicked open and his face was above mine. His focus drifted from my eyes to my lips and back again. He was taking in every aspect of my visage.

  “Come for me.” He said those three words, gently, deeply but with such command that as he pressed my clit and rubbed once and just before he completed the next sweep the ecstasy swamped me. I felt the swathe of his fingertip and I shuddered and twisted beneath him. His upper body pressed down on me as his lips met mine. He sucked on the orgasmic gratification that poured from my body and it transferred from my body to his, like a wave. He then passed it back with the movements of his lips and the stilling of his fingers. The intensity of pleasure lessened as we batted it between us, lip to lip, finger to clit.

  I gasped deeply when he pulled out of the kiss, desperate for oxygen and stability. We lay still, atmosphere heavy, bodies replete. I could feel the need to say things, to whisper sweet nothings—this was the point to do that. But when I rolled over, ready to say something potentially stupid, he rolled the other way and perched on the edge of the bed.

  “I better check that my company still exists, but I’ll be back for you soon, my wicked temptress.”

  I smiled then and swallowed the words that had bubbled up inside.

  * * * *

  I soon persuaded myself it had been silliness, a response to the ecstasy that had streamed through my body. The short trip passed in a whirl of shopping, eating and fucking. It was glorious but when we were out I felt the gaze of the world on my shoulders. I felt a little like I was being paraded around like a prized pet. I didn’t know if Greg thought of me like that—he never professed anything deeper than lust for me, even there in the city of lovers.

  I felt a sadness creep over me when I got home. I got back into the swing of work and loved that, as always, but when I got home each night—well, early hours of the morning—I felt the loneliness of an empty apartment more keenly. Remembering the encounters with Greg and of course Darren didn’t remove any of that.

  Chapter Five

  “So, sweet cheeks, what have you got planned for today?”

  I shook my head against my mobile and sighed. “Work, Darren, it’s Saturday night.”

  “You’re the boss, can’t you—?”

  “No, I can’t,” I snapped before he finished his sentence. I hadn’t slept well since returning from Paris earlier in the week. Something weighed heavy on my heart but I was reluctant to inspect it further to find out what it was.

  “All right, fair enough, love,” he sighed. “Maybe another time, then?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” My tone and my resolve softened when I heard the disappointment in his voice. He was only trying to be nice to me after all.

  I forgot the conversation soon enough in the hubbub of that night. We had a birthday party to cater on top of the usual rush for food and drinks and a good old time. I was a barman down to flu and a nasty virus had wiped out several of my waiting staff. I divided my time between the two, filling in the gaps. I might have been the boss but I was just a member of staff like any other and I mucked in when needed to make things work. I was knackered by eleven and although food service had ended and it was relatively quiet I knew it wouldn’t last. Saturday night saw the clubbers turn out in force. We would be packed to the rafters again within the hour.

  “Jen, could you stay on and tend bar?” I asked one of the waitresses as she walked past.

  “Oh, boss, you know I would usually but—” She patted her tummy, which was a little more protruding than usual. I then remembered why I hadn’t asked her to do any overtime for a while.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot in the madness of it all. How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad,” she replied. “Morning sickness is over at last, thank God. It’s the swollen ankles that do my head in now, but still, won’t be long till the little sprout makes an appearance.”

  “No, not long. We need to meet about your maternity leave… Before you go could you just ask the others if any of them want to do the bar tonight? I’ll give them time and a half for it.”

  “Sure, boss, I’ll ask.”

  I knew I was lucky. I had a good body of staff—yes, I had a relatively high turnover, since many of them were students and eventually they’d go off to seek long-term employment, but I could rely on my team to go the extra mile. People were happy to work in Diamonds. I suspected the high tips from wealthy patrons had more to do with it than the firm but fair boss, but it all worked and that was the main thing.

  “Well, hello,” a familiar voice roused me from my thoughts. “I didn’t have you down as a barmaid.”

  “Hi, Darren.” I smiled stiffly. “We’re short-staffed tonight.”

  “Bummer,” he sighed. “I was hoping to whisk you away for a night of hot loving.”

  “No chance, darling. Sorry.” I shrugged, and passed the pint I’d pulled to the skinny man stood beside Darren. I took the money and passed back the change. I wished Darren wasn’t there. As much as I liked the guy, I didn’t have time for small talk.

  “Do you need a barman?” he asked.

  “Tonight, yes, we’re a server down.” I took the next order, two pretty drinks for the small, pretty lady in red.

  “Good job I’m here, then. Move over.”

  “What?” I looked up to see him slipping over to my side of the bar.

  “I was a barman for years when I was at uni. I’ll give you a hand.” He smiled, leaned over the bar and took the next person’s order.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” I sighed, opening the till.

  “Sure I do. Where’s your price list?”

  I pointed down to the cheat sheet we kept below the bar for trainees. Darren nodded.

  I shook my head and carried on serving. If he didn’t get under my feet or seriously upset a customer I supposed there was no harm in letting him help out for the evening.

  He turned out to be very capable, an absolute godsend in fact. The customers thought it was brilliant, being served by a billionaire. Darren posed for many photos and kept the people who were waiting for drinks entertained. We had zero complaints from the moment he hopped to my side of the bar.

  “So, Mr Bennett, are you looking for a full-time job?” I looked up from the glasses I was putting away as he walked by.

  “Why, are you offering me one?”

  “On tonight’s performance I certainly think I should. You were great.”

  “Aw, shucks. I’m flattered but, and don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t think you can afford my wages.”

  “You’re telling me ten quid an hou
r doesn’t draw you in?”

  “Naw, I make closer to ten thousand quid an hour, so I’ll pass. But I did enjoy myself tonight.”

  “Good. You really helped me out tonight. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. Now, about that payment, can I take it in kind?”

  He brushed up close and I put the tumbler down just before it fell from my shaking fingertips. “Well, I have a couple of kilos of assorted bar snacks in the store…” I winked.

  “That’s not quite what I meant.” Darren grabbed me and pressed his lips to mine before I had time to protest or to check if anyone was watching. I was incensed and turned on all at the same time so I didn’t push him away for a few seconds.

  “Darren,” I snapped, “stop messing about. Someone could see.”

  “Are you ashamed of me?” He looked hurt and that surprised me.

  “No, but I’m the boss here, I don’t want my employees gossiping about me behind my back.”

  He shrugged then kissed me again.

  “No one’s here,” he answered as I banged on his chest. “I sent them all home with a generous tip and a smile.”

  “You sent my staff home?”

  “Yep.” He nodded and ran a finger down my cleavage. I took a step back and the bar struck the middle of my back.

  “Without asking me?”

  “Indeed.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on my hips.

  “And you expect me to be okay with that?” I was angry. I was the one in control when I was at work. I was the boss, I made the decisions, no one else. I was pissed off but I couldn’t stop myself appreciating his musk-like scent and the bulge in his trousers that he pushed against my hip.

  “Not really,” he continued, “but I was hoping that a good shag would make you forget all about it, or at least make you not care about it.” Darren smirked irritatingly and squeezed his hands up over my waist to cup my breasts through the cotton of my work T-shirt.

  “Do you think I’m that shallow?” I was losing the plot of why I was mad with him, but I was clinging to the fact that he’d upset me and there must have been a good reason behind it, even if everything within me was crying out for me just to stop thinking and fuck him.