by Paige North
“Do you need to be touched?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says.
“Then do it.” With my other hand I pull the waist of her panties out and move her other hand inside. With my fingers guiding hers, we touch just outside the center of her. “Feel yourself. Do it like you do when you’re alone.”
“I…I don’t really do it that much.”
I guide her fingers in slow, soft motions. “Just do what feels good.”
Her eyes are heavy, and I want to watch her. I know I’ll have more of her soon—I hope, at least—so as hard as it is, I take my hand away from hers and step back. “Show me how you like it, Jordyn.”
Her hand makes slow circles inside those tiny little panties. Not being able to see everything makes it so much hotter. I look up at her face. Her cheeks are red and her breathing has increased, but her eyes are closed, and I just can’t have that.
“Open your eyes, Jordyn,” I command. She does, and when she looks at me she pulls her chin down, embarrassed. “Keep your eyes on me. Look at me.” She does, and the movement of her hand picks up speed as I imagine how wet she is, how she tastes, how hard her clit is. She pushes her hips forward, her back curving in as she feels more of herself, enjoying it more and more. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this. You’re too good, working your pussy like that.”
“Miles,” she says, but a smile flashes and her hand slows. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Don’t you dare slow down,” I tell her. “Look at me.” Her eyes, so heavy with the want of sex in them, gaze at me again.
I’m shocked at how much of a sexual dynamo this woman is. I can tell she lacks experience, and yet she oozes sensuality, she turns me on already more than any woman I can recall.
And I’ve been with many.
But Jordyn—she’s turning me on in a way that is almost maddening in its intensity. She is so pliable, so submissive, she wants so much from me and I have so much to give her.
I lick my lips and gesture towards her. “I want to feel you with my own hand. I want to feel how wet you are for myself.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. Already she’s moving again with purpose and need, her mouth hanging open.
I step closer, my voice in her ear now. “I want to put my tongue on you, down there, where your hand is now. I want to lick you, taste you.”
“Miles…”
“Keep those eyes open,” I demand as they fall shut. “I want to lick that wet pussy of yours, I want to feel that clit on my tongue, and I want you to come all over my mouth.”
“God…”
“Do you want me to do that to you, Jordyn?”
“Yes. Please Miles.”
“Make yourself come first.” She works her fingers over her pussy with renewed effort, rubbing herself as he tits bounce lightly inside the lacy bra. She keeps going hard, panting like an animal, working her cunt faster so that I know it won’t be long. “Come, and then I’ll make you come again.”
Jordyn’s eyes fall shut as she moans out, her stomach caving and her shoulders hunching forward as she comes on herself. For a moment she looks like she’s going to fall forward so I step toward her and gather her up in my arms. She breaths out, her forehead on my shoulder, her hand between her crotch and mine. Slowly she removes her hand; I catch her wrist in mine.
“Let me taste you,” I say, holding her fingers up. She looks surprised as I capture her middle and ring fingers in my mouth, sucking off her juices, reveling in the small, sweet taste I get of her. She watches me as get every taste from her fingers, and then I kiss her deeply, holding her close. I scoop her up from under her ass, her legs wrapping around me.
I move her to the bench at the end of my bed. I set her down and she looks up at me, waiting for my next move.
“Hold on,” I say, then tug the bench out and away from the bed. Jordyn laughs at the sudden movement. “Straddle it.” Her smile fades as she swings her leg over the obscured side. “Now move down here.”
She does as I say, and moves to the end of the bench.
Finally, I kneel before her. I push her knees out and press my chest to hers, capturing her mouth and kissing her deeply. I unhook her bra, our bodies separating only long enough so that I can take it off her and toss it to the side. I feel her smooth skin, my hand traveling all across her until her tit is in my hand, the perfect size.
I squeeze her gently as she pushes her chest up more, eager for me to take what she has to offer. I slide my tongue across her hard pink nipple. Jordyn digs at the hair on the back of my head, pushing me into her, telling me to take more. I suck and lick, then take her other tit and do the same until finally I can’t wait any longer. I need her pussy on my mouth, and now.
I gently push her back on the bench, lying her down with her legs spread open to me. Slowly I lower her panties until the whole of her cunt is exposed to me. The way her hips move ever so slightly tells me she’s eager for what I’m about to give her.
I kiss her thighs, running my hand over the heavenly weight of them.
She’s no skin and bones but all woman and perfectly formed and curved. My kisses go higher, and to the inside her thigh. I push her legs open even more, raking my tongue over the spot at the very top, on the little bone right by her crotch but not quite there yet.
I stuff my face in that warm space, so close to her pussy that Jordyn can’t help but moan out. I torture her a little more when I give her a long lick just outside her walls. When I come up her chest is arching up, her hands griping the sides of the bench and fuck if that sight doesn’t get me even hotter. I can’t wait any longer. I have to have her on my mouth now.
I give her the slightest whisper of a lick, making her catch her breath. I flick my tongue over her clit and watch her again. She’s so still, her anticipation so strong I wonder if she’s even breathing.
Finally I spread the flat of my tongue from the bottom of her pussy all the way to the top, and then I do it again, licking at her, tasting and smelling her perfection. She can’t stop her cries for more now, her body arched and shifting to get more of me. I suck at her hard little clit, licking my tongue over it again. I’ve never been so turned on by a woman in my life, certainly not so much that all I want to do is pleasure her, watch her writhe in ecstasy over the talents of my tongue.
She is so much more than sexy that a new word needs to be invented because I can’t get enough.
I slid my tongue up inside her, fucking her with it, working her clit again as I hold her down by the tops of her thighs.
She’s moaning and sucking in air as I pull her clit between my teeth and suck some more. I’ve never loved eating a woman out like this before. Jordyn tastes so fucking good that I don’t want to stop. I lick up the swollen folds of her cunt, dragging my tongue over her inch of her wet pussy until Jordyn is crying out. Her hips begin bucking, and she’s moaning and coming all over my mouth. I hold her down until she’s done and then I lick her some more for good measure, her walls clenching, her body shuddering. When her hand drops over the side of the bench to the floor, I know she’s done.
I gently move her legs together and kiss the tops of her knees. I move to the side of the bench and kiss her belly. Her head is turned and her eyes are closed.
“You still alive?” I ask.
“Ask me again in ten minutes.”
I move her hair off her forehead and kiss her. I’d love for her to do about a thousand things to me right now, but seeing her so knocked out by an orgasm that I gave her makes me want to see her rest up for the night.
“Don’t move,” I tell her quietly.
I head across the hall and pull down her bed, making sure it’s the picture of comfort before she goes into it. When I come back to my room I find that she hasn’t moved an inch. Even her hand is still dangling onto the floor. She’s breathing normally and there’s a hint of a smile on the corners of her lips.
“Come on, you,” I say, slipping my arm under her knees and the other behind her back. I
scoop her up in one easy motion and her arms find my neck. Across the hall I place her in her bed and cover her up.
Back in my room I sit on the edge of my bed and run my hands through my hair. Everything is fine. I may have been horny, but I am under control. So she made me about as crazy as any woman ever has—crazier, even.
It’s just a chemical thing.
We reacted strongly to each other, and that’s fine. Good even. What man would want to resist a woman like that?
As long as I keep my emotions out of it, all should be fine and my plan will work. That should be an easy task, considering my emotions have lived on lockdown since I was a toddler.
The sex will be a beautiful added benefit. But the task is to see if I can use her as a wife and gain control of the company. She’s a little headstrong and has more personality than the well-bred women I’m used to, but maybe that’s a good thing.
As long as things don’t go too far.
Jordyn
I wake up disoriented—and naked. Holy crap, what did I do?
I sit up in the plush bed, the room totally darkened. I reach for the nightstand, trying to find a lamp when my finger touches a button, which I push. With a soft whirring sound, blackout shades begin to rise on the windows, revealing a rose gold view of Manhattan in the morning.
I slept way too well last night considering all that happened yesterday. I wonder briefly what that says about my morals. Before I can wonder too much more, I find a note on the nightstand written in precise, small letters.
Had to work and you looked so peaceful. Call up for breakfast or help yourself to the kitchen. Will call later with instructions.
I feel warm at the thought of Miles Croft looking down at me in this bed and thinking I looked peaceful. But then he lost me when he mentioned instructions.
Despite last night, this is a job. That wasn’t a job, but the rest is. I have to remember that. As strange and questionable as this whole venture is, I have to remember that he doesn’t think of me in any romantic way.
But then I think of how hot last night was and my head starts to spin. Single handedly the best, most intense orgasm of my life. I mean, I basically passed out I came so hard. And I’ve never touched myself in front of a guy and I’ve certainly never just spread my legs like that for anyone.
Oh my god. I’m cringing. But it was so damn good. I’m sure last night was just a fluke. I was feeling vulnerable from the whole crazy day that began with losing my job, and he was probably feeling slightly guilty for his role in ruining my life.
Only maybe he didn’t. He’s paying off my entire student loan. I have to work for it, but going to lunches and dinner and whatevers for one month seems like an easy paycheck.
I get out of bed and open the double doors to the closet. I spend about ten minutes looking through all the gorgeous clothes, trying on a few things, which, turns out, mostly fit me perfectly.
I find a note on the island that has the number to the building’s tailor if I need anything adjusted.
I open the drawers and find an array of lingerie, all soft and lacey, sexy but not crass. Looking around the closet and the array of clothes and shoes, I think what good taste Miles has. Then I remember he mentioned a stylist, who surely chose everything. I slip on a short silk robe and head off to explore. With this huge place all to myself, I better peek around while I can.
For breakfast I decide to find out what “order up” means. I assumed maybe the concierge would pick up a bagel for me, or there was a kitchen in building that would make a fruit plate for me.
But no.
There’s a private, three-star restaurant on the twelfth floor of this building that caters to the residents twenty-four hours a day. Normally I would just have coffee for breakfast but even that’s too complicated for Miles’s kitchen. The machine is some stainless steel built-in mechanism that I won’t even dare to try to figure out. Besides, I tell myself, who knows if Miles is going to come to his senses and change his mind about this whole arrangement.
He might come home this evening and say the whole thing is off, and best of luck to me. I would feel like a total idiot, and be pissed at him for jerking me around, but the scenario doesn’t feel impossible. So in order to make the most of what could be my only day, I decide to order a big breakfast. Crab eggs benedict with a side of crispy bacon, grapefruit and a café latte.
I know I’m not really showing him, but there’s some sort of satisfaction in eating this for breakfast today when yesterday I was mourning the loss of my bagel with cream cheese.
I check my bank account on my phone to see if I have been paid like he said I would be. Sure enough, a third of the total payment is in my account. Damn. I sit staring at that huge number in my account for a long moment, mesmerized.
Next I send a text to my roommates, telling them I found a free place for the month until I get my life sorted out, letting them think I went back to my parents’ house. Jenny texts back quickly saying she’ll tell Elina the spot is hers.
After breakfast has been delivered and consumed, I decide to get my exercise by exploring this gigantic residence. It’s three stories, sleek and masculine but still light and so airy with the dizzying windows on every wall. The pool, though, is the most incredible thing I’ve seen. It’s long and narrow and the entire room is covered in tiny blue tiles of varying shades. Of course, the windows, which stretch the length of the lap pool, looks out over Park Avenue. I don’t swim in it, but the thought of swimming in the sky like this feels like something out a movie. This is not real life.
When I’m finally ready to get dressed I can’t decide between the rain shower or the soaking tub. Oh, yes, life is hard. I settle on the shower, thinking I’ll save the bath for the end of a long day.
When I go down to the kitchen for some water (a see-through refrigerator has all the drinks lined up like a high-end convenience store), I find that someone has delivered my things from the apartment. My laptop and books are there, and although my canvas bag holds them all, a sophisticated leather bag rests in an open box beside them.
For J, the card reads. Very perfunctory.
A phone bleats from the wall near the door. I rush over to it, then pause. Should I answer? Is someone here? This isn’t my place and shouldn’t he have a housekeeper or someone to deal with this stuff? I just want the noise to stop so I go ahead and answer the phone.
“Ms. Thompson?” a woman’s voice asks.
“Yes?”
“I’m calling from Mr. Croft’s office. He has a late luncheon he’d like you to join him at. A car will pick you up in thirty minutes. The concierge will call this line when they arrive.”
“Um, okay.”
“Thank you.” The line clicks off.
Crap, thirty minutes.
He doesn’t give a girl much time.
I hurry back up the stairs and to the closet, shuffling through the racks trying to decide what to wear. There are too many choices here. And my hair—it’s still slightly wet and totally not fixed, not to mention my makeup still needs to be done. There’s an entire counter full of makeup, brands that I know but could never afford. I know from magazines that one of those tubes of lipstick costs fifty dollars.
I need a lesson on how to apply all this stuff; I’m just used to the basic stuff, and from the drugstore.
Somehow I manage to get dressed, although I’m still tugging on the dress I chose as the phone buzzes. Before I head out, I realize I don’t have shoes so I have to race back upstairs, choose a pair I think is suitable, then dash back down. I try to catch my breath in the elevator ride down.
A black town car with tinted windows waits at the curb, and the driver opens the door for me. Miles is sitting there, looking so dapper in his dark suit, his hair combed back and his face clean shaven. I could take a photo of him just like that and I’d never get tired of looking at him.
I’m hardly seated and the door is barely shut when greets me.
“Don’t keep me waiting again,” he
says.
“Sorry,” I mutter, thrown off guard. “There’s just a lot of new stuff to get used to.”
“You had all morning to familiarize,” he says. “You’re not paid to lounge around all day and eat crab eggs benedict.”
I snap my head to look at him. That little sneak! He even knows what I ordered for breakfast?
I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. What a jerk.
Tomorrow I’m ordering pancakes, an omelet, and the eggs benedict. I stare out the window, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. And what of last night? He was so sweet and good; is this his daytime monster personality?
“About last night,” he begins, as if reading my thoughts. “I want you to be clear on the terms of our arrangement so that there is no misunderstanding. That…last night is not required of you.”
“I know,” I say. I certainly didn’t do it because I felt I had to, unless you count the feeling that my body would explode if I didn’t. But I didn’t feel pressure to, and besides, he went over that with me. I’m clear. He doesn’t need to keep reminding me.
“Anything sexual that does happen between us is purely for our mutual enjoyment,” he continues. “There can be no emotional attachments. Are we in agreement?”
My throat is dry. I feel like I was just reprimanded. I feel like a child. I’d actually been really excited to see him again, especially after last night. I didn’t think I was coming on a date with him, but I was still anxious to see him again. Now he’s squashed all of that.
“Jordyn, I need you to acknowledge that you understand me.”
“Yes, I acknowledge,” I say. I turn back to looking out the window. “I understand perfectly.”
“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, I need to briefly prep you on the luncheon. We’re meeting Randall and Shirley McCrery who I hope to recruit up from Atlanta. I’m sure you and Shirley can talk about shopping or something. Keep it light and easy. And Jordyn? Next time, wear something a little more appropriate for lunch.”
