by Thea Devine
He came toward her then, his erection in full thrust, pure and naked man power that was irresistible. She backed away as he moved implacably toward her.
“But what, Brooke?”
“I’m obviously not enough for you.”
He kept coming at her and she backed up against the door, with nowhere to go and no response from him. He kept looking at her as if he were gauging her, because he wanted to believe she meant everything she said, that it wasn’t a game of take him for a ride.
He planted himself directly in front of her, his shaft nudging at the juncture between her legs. “Maybe you’re too much for me, Brooke. Maybe I can’t understand why I can’t get enough of fucking you, when I don’t have a centimeter of semen left in me. But goddamn it—spread your legs.”
He thrust at her, blundering his way into her body, pinning her hard, hot, and tight against the door. In that instant, he owned her, occupied her, and left her no room to move, to react; the only thing she could do was feel. And she felt—she was full of him, every inch of him, the thickness of him, the weight of him.
He lifted her legs and wrapped them around him so that she was supported solely by the door and the heft of his penis jammed into her.
“That’s all,” he breathed into her ear. “This is all I want. Just to stuff my penis into your hot, moist cunt.” He pushed deeper. “I have nothing left, and I need to fuck you. Tell me how a man can get that hard again after every fuck. God almighty…I will not give this cunt to another penis.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
“Tell me what you want.”
Be smart. “All I want is what you’re giving me now.”
“You can have my penis…” he pushed her tighter against the door, “…if you meant it about never wanting to leave it.”
“I meant it.”
He groaned and his whole body shuddered with a spurt of release.
“Twice a week. Overnight. Anything I want, any way I want it.”
She caught her breath. This was it—the mistress moment. And you didn’t bargain or try to dictate the terms.
She compressed her vaginal sphincter to give him a tight little kiss on his shaft.
“I’ll do anything,” she whispered.
“I thought you’d say that,” he growled, then caught her mouth in a hard kiss. “I’m taking you to bed.”
She buried her head in his shoulder as he carried her to the oversized, beautifully made up bed, laid her down and followed her down, covering her masterfully while remaining inside her.
And then he just rocked her gently, pressing himself deeper from time to time. He kissed her in his blunt, hard-tonguing way, and all of that was prelude to the growing excitement as his body gathered steam and hers began to cream.
And the lights were so low, and he was so thick, filling, and deep, and her body was so soft and pliant with the satisfaction of having achieved her goal…. It was a rainfall fuck, like hot little drops dancing all over her body as he thrust and drove and she belly-danced around the thick core of him, and made this moment her own.
Chapter Twelve
MJ called Delia early the next morning from Brooke’s apartment. “Guess what? Brooke hasn’t come home yet.”
“Hmm. That’s a good thing—isn’t it?”
“God, I hope so. I hope her elusive bigwig had sex with her all night, but I’m on pins and needles. Oh, Delia, she looked absolutely gorgeous last night! So I was thinking…maybe we could go to Images today.”
Delia knew what MJ was thinking: that maybe Marielyce would offer them the same entrée as she had Brooke. Delia wasn’t ready for that yet, but maybe MJ was. She’d been more her old self this week, but even though distance had given her a clearer perspective on Dallan Baines, she still had that doubt that any man could want a woman with her “secret.”
Delia knew what the secret was; she had gone through that same struggle over whether she was the kind of woman who wanted to be dominated and controlled. She wasn’t, but MJ was a different person.
“Okay,” she said, “let’s do it. We’ll go to Images and see what turns up.”
Brooke was prowling around the room, dressed in Thane’s white dress shirt, while he watched her from the bed, his naked shaft flexing playfully in invitation.
In the daylight she was wholly aware of him, the not Prince Charming who was lord of all he surveyed. What have I done?
Twice a week. Mistress Club heaven.
Looks don’t matter. Big pockets and a big penis do.
The penis part actually made her salivate; that part was heavenly. And he was everything that she had specified, except handsome and built.
Well, one part of him was built, that was for sure. And that was the most important part. She also liked the way he handled her, and what price could you put on that?
“Brooke?” His voice was thick with need and exhaustion.
“I’m here.” She climbed back into bed and nuzzled his slack manhood.
He eased her away and slipped his hand under the shirt to play with one taut nipple. “Nice and pointy. Did I tell you I’m hot for pointy nipples?”
“I get hot for your point.” She ran her hand over his shaft.
“Not now. I’d rather do your nipples.”
“Oh, please do my nipples, Thane.” She moved so he could reach both of them, her body tight and aroused, her breasts arched toward him. He took both nipples at once, squeezing and rolling, pulling at one, then the other, as she melted like putty.
“Such hot nipples.”
She straddled him while he played with her. She loved this part, she loved it too much, she couldn’t tell him how much she loved how he manipulated her nipples as she undulated and ground her hips against him in passion.
“I think I’ll call you Nipples.”
Her orgasm exploded at those words in a straight, hot melt from her nipples to her vagina.
“Nipples.” His voice held such pure male satisfaction that she wondered hazily if his doing her nipples twice a week would be enough for her.
Delia and MJ set out fairly early from Brooke’s apartment, MJ shimmering with an anticipation that made her cheeks flush and her green eyes bright.
She’d dressed in the emerald silk blouse with a Tahari suit, subtle makeup, and her red hair slicked back in a sophisticated, trendy style.
“Don’t anticipate too much,” Delia warned her. “Marielyce will not pounce on us the minute we walk in the door, and neither of us is brazen enough to ask her anything flat-out.”
“We’ll play it by ear,” MJ said. It was the perfect city morning, with a bright blue sky, clean air, and a pulsating sense there were places to go and she was going there.
For the first time in a long time she felt hopeful, as if she were on the threshold of something explosive and exciting.
The shop had just opened when they arrived, and Marielyce greeted them and asked what their pleasure was today. MJ slanted a look at Delia as they followed her down the aisle to see the new items she had taken in since their last visit.
“Handbags, ladies. Handbags are the accessory of the season. Vuitton, Prada, Chanel. One of these would update anything you’re wearing this next season.”
She had an array of barrel bags, satchels, messenger bags, and shoulder bags, all with prominent hardware, and MJ was instantly tempted.
Delia preferred the shoes. Chanel, Louboutin, Luca Luca—she was in affordable heaven there.
She was aware of Marielyce’s covert interest in them as they tried things on, made suggestions, and offered opinions. That had to be because of Brooke. Marielyce knew they were friends, so she was probably curious about what had happened with Brooke. But she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—ask.
I’m imagining things.
Suddenly, there were the shoes: burgundy suede, Hugo Boss, a Mary Jane strap across the instep, pleating across the vamp, four-inch heels. Delia grabbed them and didn’t even look at the price as she preened in front of the mir
ror. “I’m taking them!”
“Nice choice,” Marielyce said, as a little bell signaled that the last customer had left the store. “Another one of those brand-new gifts that some fortunate woman chose not to keep.” She sent Delia a meaningful look.
She meant some fortunate mistress, Delia thought, stroking the suede shoes. I never would have done that if someone were generous enough to buy something like these for me.
“How is Brooke?”
Delia blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“How is Brooke doing?”
“She’s fine—”
“—and otherwise occupied today,” MJ put in. “We hope,” she added playfully.
“Hmm.” Marielyce murmured and drifted away.
Delia sent MJ a reproving look. “Not good mistress form, MJ.”
“A little too bold? But maybe it subtly sent the message of our interest.”
MJ’s interest should be encouraged, Delia thought. They were here; why shouldn’t MJ pursue the coveted entrée to Maîtrise?
What to do? Maybe nothing. Maybe that little hint was enough to clue Marielyce in.
She picked out a beautiful winter white Kenneth Cole coat from the rack, slipped her arms into the coat, and walked to the mirror. The store was empty except for her and MJ, and Marielyce was folding garments that had been disrupted by the previous customers.
“Beautiful coat,” she said as Delia turned in the mirror. “It’s from this season’s collection, another discard from yet another unappreciative—”
“Mistress,” MJ finished for her.
Marielyce didn’t blink. “Indeed. Well, there has to be a place where they can get value for their assets.”
“It seems rather cavalier,” Delia said, stroking the material, “to give such an extravagant gift away for a third of its cost. I would think the giver would be devastated.”
“You are very caring, very sensitive to the feelings of the man,” Marielyce said. “Most aren’t.”
“I wish I could buy the coat,” Delia said regretfully as she slipped it off, “but unfortunately I can’t.”
“Perhaps there will come into your life a gentleman who could afford to buy it for you,” Marielyce murmured as she hung it up.
Delia felt prickles all over her body. “I would love to find such a gentleman,” she said carefully.
“And such a gentleman would love to find you. Perhaps I could be of service in that regard.”
“It would be deeply appreciated,” Delia said.
Marielyce looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “MJ—what have you found that has enticed you today?”
“The idea of being a mistress,” MJ said brashly.
Delia felt a little trill of horror go through her. Marielyce was so formal, so circumspect, that such a frank statement could put her off.
“Many are seduced by the thought,” Marielyce said. “But there is so much to consider. How little time your lover might have for you; how tightly you will be reined in, to be available for his pleasure; what he might demand of you and the use he will make of your body, his little quirks and jealousies…”
She was watching MJ’s face as she listed all the things that others might define as negatives, which were all the things MJ wanted. It was in her eyes and the avid look on her face.
“Are you really truly prepared for that, MJ?”
“I would love that,” MJ whispered.
Marielyce nodded. “Then tell me, what you have chosen today? The shoes, Delia? MJ, a pocketbook? Lovely choices. Let me wrap them, and in time you will know everything you need to know.”
She lay on her belly, her naked bottom canted upward. He had straddled her thighs and was sliding his shaft into her crease, pushing and prodding at her anus and her womanhood alternately as she shimmied her hips to entice him to penetrate her.
He didn’t speak much during sex, she was discovering. When he wanted, he took, and he took her now in a thick, driving swoop, his hands grasping her buttocks tightly as he embedded his taut, throbbing length deep inside her.
He ejaculated fast, almost as if he couldn’t control himself, coming coming coming in thick, rhythmic blasts as he collapsed onto her.
“God,” he muttered. “I goddamned want more. I want to rub my milk into your nipples…”
“I’ll do that for you, Thane. I’ll massage your cum into my nipples.”
He groaned and eased himself out of her, and she sat, her legs spread, her body arched, so he could see everything.
Giving him a sultry look from under her lashes, she reached down between her legs, swiped her fingers into her cleft, and then massaged his thick ejaculate all over the hard, pointy tips of her nipples.
He was stroking his shaft and almost came again, watching her slide her slick, semen-coated fingers all over her nipples.
“I want a picture of your nipples.”
“Thane!” She pretended to be scandalized. Was she?
“I want those nipples with me all day long.”
“Let me think about it.” Smart to hesitate? She didn’t know.
“Just your nipples.”
“Disembodied nipples?” She giggled.
“I’ll know whose nipples they are.” He pushed her back on the bed. “I can’t stop fucking you.” He pushed his shaft slowly and maddeningly into her.
She reached out her arms for him. “Don’t, then.”
“Two days, Brooke. It’s all I can give you.”
“It’s enough,” she whispered.
“It won’t be enough for everything I want to do to you,” he growled as his hips ground against hers. “But it’s what I’m offering.”
“That’s what I want, too,” she whispered.
“Do you?” he asked sharply.
“Yes,” she said, suddenly unsure. One moment he was thinking entirely with his sex, and four beats later he was a hard-nosed businessman. “I’m not a scheming bitch, Thane. Yes, I know who you are, but I don’t know anything more. You probably know more about me.”
“I do,” he said, his head cocked as if he were listening for something in her voice as well as her words.
What could she say that wouldn’t sound rehearsed and calculating? Or was everything with him some kind of test, just to see how she responded?
“That’s all I have to say, Thane.”
“It’s enough.”
“You do have a thing about enough,” she said without thinking.
“I have to.”
“Am I enough for you?” Was that too coy?
“My penis thinks so.”
“It’s most discerning,” she murmured. “I think I like it a little more than I like you.”
“Probably very wise of you in the long run. My penis likes your cunt.”
“And I like him rooted there, so—”
“So he’ll root.” He brushed her mouth in a brisk kiss. “And I expect he’ll take over from there.”
“You know what,” Delia said as they were waiting for the bus, “I’m thinking exactly what Brooke was thinking last Sunday.”
Traffic was heavy on Sixth Avenue, and MJ was in a fever to get back to Brooke’s place so they would be there when Brooke returned. “What was Brooke thinking?” she asked.
“That it was too fast too soon. Didn’t you think it was too easy? Almost like Marielyce was expecting us?”
“Well, why wouldn’t she assume we’d be as interested as Brooke? Especially now that Brooke is with someone. Maybe she knows.”
“Hmm,” Delia murmured as the bus drew up and they boarded. “But we don’t know if Marielyce did refer us.”
“She said the exact same thing to us as she did to Brooke.”
“That’s true. So we should find one of those cards tucked in the tissue.” Delia looked out the window at bustling Broadway as they passed Lincoln Center. Every block had a different feel, a different pulse.
“It’s Groundhog Day redux,” MJ said. “Didn’t we play this scene last week?”
“So who goes first?” MJ asked after they had returned to the apartment and were staring at their wrapped purchases.
“You do. For suggesting we even go to Images today.”
MJ carefully unwrapped hers, a dark-brown pebbled leather Cole Haan satchel with brass fittings. “I love it,” she murmured. “But will I love it more if…” She looked at Delia.
“Go on.”
“I want it,” she whispered and opened the bag. Marielyce had stuffed it with a huge wad of tissue paper and MJ removed it, then looked a little stricken when she found nothing.
“Any pockets inside the bag?” Delia asked.
MJ brightened. “Yes!” She bit her lip, held her breath, gently unzipped the pocket on the back wall, then dipped her fingers inside. “It’s here!” Her heart started pounding. “Oh, my God, Delia—it’s here.” Her hand shook as she held it out to show Delia.
It was the same as Brooke’s, the name Maîtrise and the address in the tiniest raised letters on the elegant vellum. “It got bent,” Delia noticed, handing it back.
MJ stared at it as if it were the Rosetta stone. “Now you.”
“I’m not so sure I’m ready for this,” Delia said, removing the shoe box from her bag.
“It’s not a commitment. C’mon,” MJ urged.
Delia chewed her lower lip as she took out the shoes. “Oh, they’re gorgeous.” She slipped her hand into the left one and held it up. “Nothing here. Maybe I’m just not mistress material.”
“Delia!”
“Okay” She shook the right shoe, and the card fell out onto her lap. “Oh!” She hadn’t expected it, honest to God. And now…now—
Delia handed it to MJ, her hand shaking a little.
“Exactly the same. And it’s bent in one corner, too.”
