His Little Black Book

by Thea Devine

  “Okay?”

  MJ nodded.

  “Okay.” She grabbed a small gold evening purse fitted out with money, a credit card, protection, a folding brush, a multipurpose makeup pencil, and some breath mints.

  “Nervous?”

  “Scared to death.”

  The buzzer rang.

  “Go get him,” MJ said. Get him for me. “I want to hear every juicy detail later.”

  The limousine, long, sleek, black, and luxurious, delivered her to the TriBeCa Grand Hotel. Thane was waiting dressed in businesslike gray, imposing and impressive if not elegant. She allowed him to help her out, admire her, and tuck her arm under his as he guided her to the exclusive Sanctum nightclub.

  Here they would have drinks, a little conversation, listen to the hottest DJ playing the group of the moment, while he showed off his accessory of the moment: her. She understood that. Her job was to look beautiful and make certain heads turned as they walked by. When they were seated, he ordered the Calvados 75 champagne cocktail for her, a bourbon for himself.

  They watched trendies and hotties dance and drink, and at just the right moment, when there was a subtle pause in the noise, he signaled that they would leave. It was as if she rose from the sea with Neptune alongside her.

  Every eye was on them as they exited, and the noise rose behind them in a crescendo as they stepped into the hotel lobby, where his chauffeur was waiting.

  Inside the limousine, he relaxed. “I can only stand so much of that. How important is it to you?”

  Showing off for her? Be smart. “Not at all.”

  “Good. I like that dress. Come here.”

  A man in control, understanding his purpose and hers. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, covered her breast with his hand, and leaned in to kiss her.

  She let him kiss her as the limousine plowed through the night life traffic of lower Manhattan, and he fondled her tongue and nipple simultaneously until she was squirming. Squirming because that nakedness between her legs instantly creamed with arousal.

  He was a direct and blunt lover; his kisses weren’t so much arousing as conquering. But the caressing way he fingered her nipple beneath her dress put her in a near orgasmic swoon.

  He removed her strap to bare her breast. He sank into her mouth, he kept at her nipple, rolling it and compressing it, until she almost came.

  “SoHo, sir.”

  The chauffeur’s voice came from a distance, and Thane eased his mouth from hers, but not his possession of her nipple. “Thank you.” He went back to her mouth, sucking at her tongue, stroking her nipple. Her body arched, seeking the pleasure point, bucking against his kisses, his incessant fingers.

  “Brooke…” Somewhere in there, she heard her name as he maneuvered his thigh between her legs and she ground her waxed nakedness down onto his leg, onto that indecently expensive suit, and indecently creamed her orgasm all over it.

  He held her nipple quiescent, he kept his tongue in her mouth. Somehow, the driver knew to keep driving.

  It took a long time for her to become sensate again, to become aware of his thick tongue still occupying her mouth, to feel the hypersensitivity of her nipple, to feel the slick residue of her orgasm between her legs and on his trouser leg.

  He didn’t seem to want to relinquish the kiss, so she deepened it, seeking him this time. Be smart.

  She let him dress her; smarter still. She didn’t try to talk—even smarter. And the more she kissed him, the more reluctant he became to remove his tongue.

  Very smart.

  She was the eager lover now, lusting for his kisses and caresses as if she couldn’t live without them. Maybe she couldn’t—that had been one rocking orgasm out of nowhere.

  And because she was still straddling his thigh, she knew how thickly erect and how hot he was. She had to get to his shaft in a nonobvious way. She eased back on her kisses, murmuring, “Oh…I’m so sorry—I’m…It’s so much…and it’s just our first time together…”

  “No, no, no,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

  “I ruined your suit.”

  “I can buy another.”

  “So generous,” she breathed. “Let me get out of your way…” She started to climb off of him, but he shifted his leg and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled his bulging erection.

  “That’s where I want you.”

  She smiled. “That’s where I want to be.”

  He kissed her again, a long, thick kiss that made her as hot as he was, made her squirm and ripple against his throbbing shaft.

  She never would have thought…not his kisses, not his overpowering tongue. She moved restively and he slowly broke the kiss.

  “Thane…”

  “You want dinner,” he said bluntly. “At least dinner.”

  “I was going to say…I’m a little tender down there—they only just waxed…Could you…would you? unzip and let me…”

  He cupped her face, stared into her eyes. “Say it.”

  Be smart. “…let me dine on you.”

  “You are either damned smart, a damned con artist, or a goddamned wet dream. You can’t be real.”

  And smarter still. “Your penis is very real, Thane. I know.”

  He looked deeply into her eyes again and then called out to the driver: “SoHo, now.”

  He held her face, nipping at her lips. “We’ll eat later. I want to eat you first.”

  “Not before I eat you,” she whispered, flicking her tongue against his thin lips and catching his snaking tongue.

  The limousine drew to a stop. “SoHo, sir.”

  “Brooke…”

  “It’s so hard to stop…”

  “Five minutes and you won’t have to stop…”

  She shimmied against his erection. “Thane…”

  “We have a big room overlooking the river. Room service, anything you want. So the sooner we get there…”

  She felt as if she couldn’t stand to leave him. How had this happened so quickly, so soon? “Not now?” So smart…

  “Five minutes.”

  “Promise?” She climbed off of his lap.

  “Brooke.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the reproach; not smart.

  He took her arm and led her inside the hotel, wholly ignoring the splotch on his trousers. A stop at the desk for the key. The chauffeur following with his designer luggage. Everything quiet, hushed, expectant, respectful. The elevator silent as it whisked them to the highest floor.

  The room was as big as a house, with an expanse of windows overlooking the Hudson River and the twinkling lights of New Jersey.

  The bed was old and carved by hand, and the bedding was five-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton with silk pillows and a satin duvet. There were lush curtains for more privacy, a glamorous bath, a sitting area with a luscious leather-tufted sofa, chairs around a glass dining table, an armoire, and all the latest electronic connections and equipment.

  “Less than five minutes,” Thane said.

  She looked at him from under her lashes. He was waiting. She had been so eager, and he was waiting for her to act on her sexy little promise—but that walk through the entrance of the hotel had doused the heat in her. They should have stayed in the close confines of the car, in the dark, with the mystery of his rampant sex between them.

  Now, she didn’t know quite what to do. And there were too many lights, which reminded her of how not like a movie star lover he was. The elegant room seemed out of sync with his raw physicality, the reality of his sixty-something body, and his sharp, blunt looks.

  So, what—she wanted him to be the unknown lover, with a paper bag over his head? For some reason it had been easier in the dark of the limousine, easier to concentrate on the physical pleasure.

  He walked around the room turning out lights until just the dots across the river were visible. She heard him removing his jacket, his tie, his shirt.

  Then he took her hand, led her to the leather sofa, and pulled her down onto his
lap, back to front. “Let’s say that we’re still in the car.”

  He couldn’t have guessed. He couldn’t have.

  “Your nipple, Brooke.”

  Be smart. She pulled down one strap, he pulled down the other one, all the while licking and sucking her neck and shoulder, then turning her head commandingly to meet his kiss.

  She wasn’t ready, but his tongue quickly overpowered hers, and his hands cupped her breasts possessively. She felt swallowed by his interest, by his lust.

  She felt him harden again as he fingered her nipple, felt his shape, his length. Felt her own body begin to liquefy as the thick pleasure of his fondling coursed through her.

  I’m so easy…in the dark.

  He maneuvered her onto her back on the sofa and climbed over her.

  She made a distressed sound—he pushed himself up to rip off his trousers and put his sex into her eager hands. Smart.

  She guided him between her legs, never breaking the kiss, skimming her hands over his length and thickness, making luscious little noises of adoration at the back of her throat as she spread her legs and brought his shaft head to kiss her nether lips, then canted her hips upward to take him just inside her.

  Connected. That one breathtaking moment when a man’s sex breached a woman’s most intimate, most voluptuous, and vulnerable part.

  He didn’t push into her, just let himself be enfolded by her for one inimitable lust-locked moment.

  And then she squeezed and he made a sound, and he thrust into her like a piston, taking her hard and hot and hurried in tandem with his hard, hot kisses.

  “Brooke—” His voice was thick against her lips. “I’m…”

  “Yes,” she whispered. It didn’t matter if he jacked off first. Smart. “Come—I want you to shoot everything you have into me.”

  He groaned.

  “And then, I’ll eat…”

  He bucked, he tensed—

  “…your delicious hardness…” she promised on a sultry breath “…in my mouth.”

  He reared back and let go a long, hot spume of thick semen.

  And collapsed onto her.

  “You’re goddamned good,” he muttered in her ear.

  “You, too,” she whispered, being smart.

  She slept a little, then awakened to find he had ordered from room service. An array of appetizers and finger food awaited on the glass table.

  He was prowling the room, barefoot and dressed in just his shirt, his penis quiescent for the moment, dark, long, and massive.

  “Food,” he said, gesturing to the table.

  “I know what I’d rather nibble on,” she said. Smart. “Why don’t you come here?”

  He set down his drink and came over to her.

  “I haven’t forgotten how deliciously plump and thick you felt in my mouth,” she whispered, looking up at him as she grasped his thighs.

  His penis jolted and hardened.

  “So succulent.”

  And lengthened.

  “I want more,” she whispered and closed her mouth around him and sucked. She felt his hands in her hair, felt him shoving himself deeper, knew she was going to take the full brunt of his cum. So, let him listen to her pleasurable noises as she sucked him off, let him ejaculate all over her mouth, let her drip with his cream. Let him…let him…and let me be the one who does this for him…

  She took him voraciously, endlessly, not allowing him a moment to gather himself. This was what she wanted now, in the dim light where he was a prince with an incomparable erection and she could care for him in the way that a mistress should.

  Then she felt that moment of release coming. She pulled back to his head, she lapped and sucked it avidly, and a moment later he thrust hard and gave her his cum.

  She sucked it out of him, letting some flow down onto her, until he wrenched away and dropped onto the couch.

  She lifted her dress and smeared his semen on her mound, massaging it into her cunt lips as he avidly watched.

  “Take off that dress.”

  She smiled, stood, and let it slide off her body, followed by the necklaces, but she kept the sandals and the earrings. “No impediments.”

  “I noticed. Sit. Back to front.”

  She sat, her buttocks cushioned by his spent and softening penis. She leaned back against his naked chest. He curved her face to his so he could kiss her, while his other hand stroked her naked body, exploring all the curves and secret places he had not begun to discover.

  She gave herself to his questing hand, relishing the pulsating heat of him, the thick softness of his exhausted penis, the precision with which he felt her up.

  She closed her eyes, luxuriating in his unexpectedly soft and arousing touch. As his hands slid downward, she felt herself go limp with pleasure at his expert stroking. When he parted her legs and draped them over his thighs, she barely moved.

  When he began stroking between her legs, she loved it. When he parted her nether lips and spread them, she began to squirm. Every part of her now was open to his very knowledgeable exploration of her secrets. She didn’t like that he had control now and all she could do was lie back, the most naked part of her laid bare for him. But she was smart.

  And he had a light, commanding touch. He dipped and stroked and rimmed until her whole body went weak and she was all his, to do with what he would. And he did; he used both hands, driving his fingers into her with one hand and fondling her clit and outer labia with the other.

  The feeling of being possessed like this was indescribably luscious. Her body felt thick and molten hot. She arched and bucked as he pumped deeper; riding his fingers, riding the rolling thunder of her climax as it poured out between her legs, onto his hands, onto his shaft…

  She couldn’t stop; he kept humping her with his fingers, pulling out her pleasure even when she thought she was done, even when she wanted to be done. And then she was done, utterly spent, with him still elongating under her buttocks and his hands quiescent on her mound.

  He silently gathered her into his arms and turned her so that her head was on his shoulder and she was cuddled in his lap. Then he began caressing her buttocks and exploring and playing lightly with her anus. Whatever he wanted, she let him.

  He suddenly breached her from the rear and she gasped. Then he breached her between her legs again so that he held her imprisoned with his fingers, front and back, tight against his hammering chest and his massive, throbbing erection.

  First she went rigid with shock, then she melted into the feelings, the pleasure, and finally she melted against him.

  “Stay the night.” His voice was rough in her ear.

  But then there would be the morning. So far she hadn’t given away much that she hadn’t given away before; the stakes were just higher.

  “Do you want me?” she whispered.

  “Do I?” He nudged her with his penis. “What about you?”

  “I…yes.”

  “Yes, what, Brooke?”

  “I want whatever you want to give me.” Smart.

  “Stay, then. There’s more.”

  She nestled against him as he began pumping her again, front and back, and whispered, “Good. I can’t wait.”

  He finally made her sit down and have some food. She made him stand beside her so that she could play with his relaxed penis.

  “We don’t have all that much time together, even if I stay the night,” she pointed out. “So why should I give up even one minute I could be playing with you?”

  “No reason I can think of.”

  So she held it and fondled it as she nibbled on the nibbles, and periodically kissed it and tongued it and avidly watched it grow and thicken and become aroused for her. Then she nibbled on it and sucked his balls as he stood there, sucked him until he was weak with need, and before she knew it, she was straddling him and he was pumping his spunk into her like a geyser. She sank onto his depleted shaft and ate some more of the appetizers, delicately feeding him as well.

  In the muted
light, he was a big old bear with more stamina than she would have guessed. What was not to like about him on that level? That was the point of her Mistress Club.

  He was nibbling her nipple now. He’d smeared caviar onto the tip, and he was flicking it with his tongue and making her crazy. When he began sucking, she felt him thicken and elongate to fill her.

  She undulated her hips in belly-dance rhythm with his sucking, she held tight onto his shoulders, and she gave him the sounds of her slow, spiraling pleasure. And down she went, the sensation curling sinuously from the center between her legs to the deepest part of her and gently bursting there.

  He lifted her head and stared at her.

  “I don’t know what to make of you.”

  “You make me come, Thane. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Is it?” He kissed her roughly, thrusting his hips upward. He couldn’t stop. Her lips, her nipples, her tight, hot, waxed mound, his stone-hard erection—he couldn’t stop pumping, even when he barely had anything left to spew.

  He wrenched away from her mouth. “Is it? You didn’t answer.”

  She was on delicate ground here. She was still mounted on him, and she had no idea what he was getting at, no idea what he wanted her to say. The safest thing was to keep impressing on him that it was his sex, his vigor, his virility that were important, not anything she wanted.

  “Isn’t it? Hasn’t all this been enough for you?” She watched his face, the pirate dark skin, the hooded eyes. “I guess not.” She started to dismount, and he held her back.

  “Don’t leave my penis.”

  “I never want to,” she whispered without thinking. Shit. Not smart.

  There was a long beat. “You’re good.”

  She said nothing. What could she say, when she was naked and still straddling him? Whose pleasure—his? Hers? Right now, she didn’t know. But on some level, after all this sex, she couldn’t bear the thought of not having him inside her again.

  He was the one who broke the sexual connection. He lifted her gently from his lap, away from his semen-slick shaft, and stood up. She stood, too.

  “You meant it?” he said suddenly. “You don’t want to leave my penis.”

  And now, a roll of the dice.

  “I never want to leave your penis,” she whispered. “I want it right now, again. It’s too much for me—it’s so thick and hard and demanding. It’s everything you are, Thane. And it isn’t gentle. But—”