With some effort, he pushed the cock harness over Richard’s erection and secured it with the stud fastener around his balls. He was almost entirely covered. I could just see his balls squeezed up inside the circles of leather, and the very head of his cock pushing out of its containment. The harness was extremely tight and I could see the effect it was having on Richard, his whole body growing more rigid by the second, as if he was being gripped in a hard heavy hand, his blood-filled cock bursting for release.
“Get back to work on Suzie, right now.” Tom pushed him back between my thighs. By then I was on the very edge of the chair, my legs spread wide to get more of him. Tom walked behind him and pulled the condom out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands. He looked at me; his green eyes glittered like gemstones. His eyebrows lifted imperceptibly and his mouth was fixed in a devilish smile. He wanted my approval. I whimpered, my head barely nodding, but I really wanted to see him doing it. Tom opened his fly and got out his rock-hard cock. He pumped it in his hands for a moment, his eyes on mine. This was one of my favorite sights; I couldn’t get enough of seeing him with his hands on his cock, and he knew it. He looked down at my chest, growling. I followed his gaze and saw that my nut-hard nipples were jutting up from the edges of my bra, my breasts oozing out of the restraining fabric.
Tom eased the condom on and then knelt down behind Richard. When Richard felt his legs being pushed apart his mouth stopped moving and clamped over my sex. His body was rigid between us, his buttocks on display to Tom, his face pushing in against my sex, his muscled arms bound tightly behind his back. If I rolled my head to one side I could see his harnessed cock.
He remained quite still, his tongue in my hole, when Tom began to probe him from behind. Tom’s face contorted and I felt Richard’s head thrust in against me as he was entered from behind. My hips were moving fast on the chair, moving my desperate sex flesh up and down against the leather mask, his mouth and the rough edges of the zipper. I couldn’t help it, I was gone on this.
Richard’s cock looked fit to burst. Tom pulled out and ploughed in deeper, his teeth bared with effort and restraint. He must have hit the spot, because Richard’s body tensed and arched, his tongue going soft and limp against my clit. I glanced down and saw his cock riding high and tight in its harness, then it spurted up under his arched body, which was convulsing.
“You made him come,” I cried accusingly, but with delight, and a dark laugh choked in my throat. Tom grinned at me and then jammed into him hard again.
“Suck her good, Richard; I want Suzie to come next.”
Our obedient slave began to tongue me again. I gasped my pleasure aloud for Tom – Tom, my gorgeous lover, watching me. It was just like our sessions of mutual masturbation, but with Richard’s darkest secret filling the void between us; to-night he was the gap across which we watched each other’s deepest pleasures rising up and taking us over.
Tom’s lean body was taut, his hands gripping on to Richard’s hips, the sinuous muscles in his arms turning to rope. His eyes were locked on mine, urging me on as he sent Richard’s tongue lashing my clit again and again with each deep thrust. I began to buck, wildly out of control, shock waves going right through the core of my body and under the skin of my scalp as wave after wave of relief flooded over me, and then Tom threw back his head, roaring his release as his hips jerked repeatedly and he shot his load.
Tom sat across the breakfast bar from me. He sipped the rich black Colombian coffee I had made us, his fingertips running against mine as he eyed me over his cup. He smiled as he put the cup down and lifted my fingers to his lips.
“You looked incredible,” he whispered, kissing my fingertips. It was an extremely intimate moment; he was looking at me with possessiveness and something akin to awe.
“So did you,” I replied and I meant it; I was overwhelmed by my lover. Richard had long since left us, but the images he had given us of each other would be with us for a very long time.
“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not. Would it bother you if we did?”
I gave it some thought. I pictured us casually speaking to him in the office, the way we used to, but this time the three of us would be looking at each other and knowing what had gone on. The idea of it made my pulse quicken again.
“No, not in the least.” I liked the idea. I smiled at Tom. Not only had we seen each other anew, but Tom and I had become part of Richard’s secret, part of Richard’s darkest secret.
Watching Lois Perform
Saskia Walker
“Trust me, Lois.” Jack’s arm shot out, blocking the doorway to her office. “I know what you need.” His shirt sleeve was rolled up, revealing a strong forearm dusted with black hair, his fist sure and large against the door frame. Halted in her steps, she took a deep breath. Her glance moved to meet his. “Trust me, Jack, you don’t.” Steeling herself, she pushed his arm aside, ignoring his knowing look, ignoring those dark eyes filled with suggestion and the tangible wall of testosterone he exuded.
She headed for her desk, her stiletto heels clicking over the polished wood floor. The skin on her back prickled with awareness, awareness brought about by his presence. He’d done it again. He’d made her curious, responsive. She didn’t take any nonsense from the men she worked with, but Jack Fulton had unsettled her. Counting to five, she put her laptop down on the desk and turned to face him, ready to challenge his comment. The door was ajar, the space empty. He was gone.
She shook her head. “Typical.” Grabbing her bag and coat, she left the building.
The pavement outside was growing crowded with commuters; the Friday evening London rush hour was under way. She stepped into the crush, leaving the office behind, hurrying to the tube station and descending the escalator at a pace. The display board told her it was four minutes until her train was due. She strode up and down the platform, her body wired. She was always like this after delivering a successful presentation. It had gone well, and she’d easily dealt with the put-downs issued by the men who defied her female power. She thrived on her success, but now she longed to throw off her city suit and heels.
The crowd thickened on the platform behind her, noisy and restless. Wind funneled down the tunnel, a distant train rumbled. She glanced across the tracks. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Jack standing opposite her, still as a predator about to pounce. A barely perceptible smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Even across the rail tracks she could see the intense look in his eyes.
She swallowed. What was it about Jack Fulton? The way he looked at her did powerful things to her, sexual things. They’d worked together for just a few months, but he was one of the few men who didn’t challenge her. Instead he sat back with a secret smile, watching as she defended herself at board meetings, where she proved over and again that she had earned her right to be in this male-dominated world. But it was more than that. His dark sexuality was evident in the way he carried himself and the way he scrutinized her. He made her self-aware in the extreme, her underwear soon growing damp when his gaze followed her with that knowing look in his eyes. The knowing look he had on right now.
He inclined his head in greeting. She nodded back and then glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of her shoulder bag. One minute until her train would arrive. His earlier comment echoed through her mind: I know what you need. Her curiosity was growing. Her instant denial had been because of the controversy at the meeting, where she’d been giving the research stats for a proposal to change power source in the company’s major manufacturing plant. Men were always telling her they knew better than her, even though it was her field of expertise. As soon as she’d rebuffed Jack’s comment about knowing what she needed, she’d realized he meant something other than work. Something more intimate. She wanted to know more. And he’d gone.
Glancing back, she saw that his train was approaching. He never took his eyes off her. She craned her neck when her view was obscured by th
e moving carriages. The shift of the crowd into the train made it impossible to pick him out. Then it was gone. The platform was empty. She stared at the place where he had stood until her train pulled in. She moved to the far side of the carriage, where she could stand out her journey, and turned on her heel just in time to see Jack close in behind her.
“Your place it is then.” His eyes glittered with anticipation, with certainty.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Her lips parted, but this time no retort emerged. Between her thighs, a pulse throbbed with need. She closed her mouth, snatching at the overhead handhold for support.
His smile was triumphant.
Later, in her flat, he threw her by rejecting a comfortable, relaxed seat on the sofa. Instead he pulled out a dining chair, indicating that she do the same and sit facing him.
He’d teased her all the way home, innuendo in his every word, keeping her wired. And now, despite the fact they were in her home, he took charge immediately. Not in an aggressive way, but with a relaxed sense of surety that was disarming. She put her wineglass down on the table and took her seat, noting how exposed the setup made her feel.
He lounged back over his chair, one leg folded, his ankle resting on the opposite knee, his hand loosely on the juncture. His looks were rugged but suave. He was dangerously attractive.
She tried to look as relaxed as he appeared, but she was far from it.
“I enjoyed watching you deal with that moron Laybourne at today’s meeting.”
She gave a breathy laugh, releasing some of the tension he had aroused in her. “He’s just an arrogant little prick with very little real knowledge.”
“You’re so right.” He gave a deep and genuine laugh. “He’s jealous of your abilities though, and he’s lusting after your body. The two vying motivations confuse him. Lust for a competitor can screw with a guy’s mind.” He looked at her with deliberation.
Her heart raced. “It can?”
“If he lets it.” His gaze moved over her body, slowly.
“And are you jealous of my skills?” She crossed her legs high on the thigh, crushing the pounding pulse in her clit.
“No, I admire them immensely. I’m not threatened by you.”
Then for a moment silence hung heavy in the atmosphere.
He raised one eyebrow. “I notice you didn’t ask if I lusted after you.”
“I don’t think you came here with the sole purpose of analyzing today’s meeting.”
He tipped his glass at her. “Indeed. And you did let me come home with you.”
She couldn’t deny it. “So I did.”
Silent acknowledgment raced between them. We are going to fuck.
He took a sip of his wine, eyeing her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“It’s not easy for you, is it? Blonde, pretty, extraordinarily intelligent.”
Something akin to relief hit her. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled, genuinely appreciating his words. He really had been observing her.
“What do you usually do, when you bring a man home for sex?” He said it as if he was discussing the weather, and glanced around the open-plan living area, as if the furniture could tell tales.
“Oh, fast, dirty sex, nothing prolonged in terms of involvement. I don’t have time.” She pushed her heavy hair back from her face, watching for his response. It was the truth. What would he think of her?
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps you should make time.”
“Perhaps I should.” Where was he going with this?
“How many times do you reach orgasm, when you have ‘fast, dirty sex’?”
It felt as if the temperature had risen dramatically. “That’s a rather intimate question.”
“I mean to be intimate with you, Lois.”
He wasn’t kidding. His provocative questioning had her entire skin prickling. “Once, mostly,” she replied eventually.
He nodded. “I’d like to see you come more than once. You deserve better than that.”
If he’d wanted to grab her attention, he’d certainly found the way. Up until that moment she could have turned away, asked him to leave. Not now. Not anymore.
“There’s a determination about you that fascinates me,” he continued. “You stalk after everything. If we were living in a primitive world, you would be a powerful huntress.”
She smiled at the image, loving it. “Very amusing, but what’s your point?”
“My point is that even powerful women can learn by pacing themselves.” He ran one finger around the rim of his wineglass. “You might benefit from restraint.”
Her sex clenched. The nape of her neck felt damp. “You’re suggesting bondage?” She let her gaze wander over his body: bulky with muscle, his expensive clothing barely concealed his obvious strength. Being under him would be quite something.
He shook his head. “No. I’m talking about a different kind of restraint altogether. Will power. I enjoy seeing you battle with your energies, using and controlling your power in the workplace. Whether it’s in the boardroom or elsewhere, your desires are only just harnessed. You’re a powerful woman, but it’s as if you’re always on the edge of losing control. And that is such a turn-on.”
Breathing had become difficult. More than that, his words about willpower struck a note with her, and she recognized herself in what he said. She had never thought about it that way, but yes. He was right.
He smiled and it was filled with dangerous charm. “I’m enjoying watching you now; you’re racked with sexual tension. I can almost touch it.” He moved his hand, as if he was touching her from where he sat. “Your eyes are dilated, slightly glazed. Your body is restless, your movements self-conscious, jumpy; your skin is flushed. Your nipples are hard.”
She took a gulp of wine. The way he described her was sending her cunt into overdrive.
He loosened his tie. “You’ve been squirming on that seat for the last five minutes. I’d put money on your underwear being very, very damp.”
Her skin raced with sensation, the thrill of his words touching her every inch of skin, inside and out. She wanted to fuck. Now. But he was making her sit there and listen, controlling her with his intimate, knowing words.
His glance dropped to her cleavage. She realized her fingers were toying with the button there. She clutched it tight, stilling her hand, and bit her lip.
“Be careful, you’ll draw blood.”
He didn’t miss a thing.
“How wet are you, Lois?”
She squirmed on her chair, desperate for contact, her eyes closing as she replied. “Wet, very wet.” She stifled a whimper.
Silence hung heavy between them again while she looked up at him for his response. He was still as a bird of prey, his chin resting on one hand. A large bulge showed in his expensive Armani pants. She wanted it badly, wanted it inside her where her body was begging to be filled.
He lifted one finger, gesturing at her crotch. “Open your legs, show me.”
Swearing under her breath, she followed his instruction, dragging her short skirt up and over her hips, her eyes never leaving his. As she opened her legs, pivoting out on her stacked heels, his eyes darkened.
“Oh yes, you are wet.” His lips remained apart as he stared at her. She sensed his breathing had grown quicker. “Touch yourself, through your panties,” he instructed.
She rested her hand over her pussy and groaned aloud. Her clit leapt, her hips wriggling into her hand for more.
“Enough.” He smiled. “Stand and take your underwear off.”
Her heart thudded so hard she thought she might crack. She took a deep breath and stood up, rested her thumbs in the lacy waistband and paused.
With one finger, he gestured downward.
She rolled them over her hip bones, growling quietly when she found herself exposed under his gaze. Dropping the panties to the floor, she stepped out of them. Her skirt was wedged around her waist, her pussy exposed
. She rested her hands on her hips in an attempt to feel less awkward.
“How delicious. I can see your clit poking out. It’s very swollen, isn’t it?”
She nodded, her feet shuffling, her face on fire.
He gestured at her abandoned panties. “Pick them up and bring them here.”
His instruction hit her like a left hook. He wanted her damp underwear. She steadied herself. Bending to snatch them up, she looked at the floor, counted to five. He also wanted her to move closer. Standing, barely in touch with her equilibrium, she swayed on her heels. When she stepped forward, she had the panties clutched against her chest.
He gestured with his hand.
She held them out.
He leaned forward, took the wispy garment. Slowly, he opened the crotch out, holding it up to the light. “Poor Lois, you were finding this hard, weren’t you?” A damp patch reminiscent of a Rorschach inkblot spanned the fabric. He breathed in appreciatively, his eyelids lowering. “Delicious.”
A combination of embarrassment and nagging lust burned her up inside. Her juices were now marking the insides of her thighs. “Do you get off on making women hot,” she blurted, “and then leaving them hanging?”
He rested the panties on the table, next to his wine glass, and put his hand over the bulge in his pants. “I’m a slave to this as much as you are.”
“Hardly.” He was so controlled. She felt as if she was about to lose it and beg. Was that what he wanted her to do?
He moved his hand, unzipping his pants and letting his cock spring free. Moisture dribbled from its tip. With one hand, he rode it up and down, slowly and deliberately, watching her reaction. It was long and thick, a prize specimen, and it was as ready for action as she was. When she glanced back up at his face, she saw it all; saw a mirror of where she was at, wrestling with her inner desires, barely controlling them.
The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker Page 2
