by Ami Snow
I stood then, maneuvering my hard cock back into my jeans and zipping them. I felt it pulse with outrage, straining the fabric. I held out my hand. “Come to the bedroom with me,” I instructed.
She took my hand, following me, although she knew full well where it was. “Lay face down on the bed,” I told her, and she did so.
I began to undress, and I knew she wanted to look, wanted the pleasure of seeing me strip off my clothes for her as she had for me. But not tonight. I was frustrated and angry at my lack of control over the situation with Elizabeth, and Anne was one of the few women I knew who would take pleasure in letting me vent that frustration, in letting me exercise control over her. She wanted to look, but she didn’t.
I stripped off my jeans, pulled my t-shirt over my head, tossing them to the floor. When I was fully nude, my cock aching and sticking out in front of me, I walked to the bed, standing next to her prone form. I reached out, my hand caressing her lace-covered ass, fingers gripping the swell of it. Anne moaned and arched her hips.
“Lay still!” I snapped, and smacked her firmly on one ass cheek, her flesh reddening under the sting of it.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered meekly. I smiled. “Good girl,” I murmured. “But I’m still going to spank you. Do you know why?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“Yes, you do. You shouldn’t lie.” I smacked the other cheek, then each one, three times in succession. Anne whimpered, but remained still.
“Why am I spanking you, Anne?”
“Because it brings you pleasure.”
“Very good.” I smacked each cheek twice more. I drew her panties down then, over the lace stockings and garter, exposing the reddened, sensitive flesh to the air. I rubbed my hand across her ass again, then delivered four more quick smacks. I could tell how hard it was for her to remain still, could see the dampness gathering between her legs. Small noises were coming from her lips, and I took a step back.
“You may turn over.”
I could see from her face that her sensitive ass stung when she turned, and that she enjoyed it. I walked to the foot of the bed, grasping my cock in my hand. “Spread your legs, and then reach between them and spread yourself so I can see.”
Slowly, she let her knees fall apart, spreading her legs so that I could see the juncture of her thighs, and how wet she was there. She reached between them, her fingers spreading her lips, slipping slightly in the moisture, and I breathed in, my hand tightening on my cock.
“Start to touch yourself. Slowly.”
She did, her index finger slowly sliding over her damp clit, making small circles as her breathing quickened.
“Don’t come until I say so,” I instructed, making slow strokes over my shaft. I didn’t want to come prematurely, either.
“May I put my fingers inside myself, sir?” she asked, her finger speeding up on her clit. She looked positively drenched.
“Not yet,” I breathed. I could feel my balls tightening. “Come closer to the edge of the bed, Anne.”
I’d never in my life seen a woman gracefully scoot, but Anne did so. Without missing a beat, her fingers still working her clit, she moved to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her face a mask of pleasure. “I need to come, sir,” she begged. “Please let me fuck myself, sir.”
“Not yet,” I growled, my hand firm on my cock now, stroking faster. I felt myself on the edge.
“Now,” I said, slowing my strokes. “Show me how you fuck yourself, Anne.”
She plunged two fingers of her other hand inside of herself, thrusting them in and out, her fingers flying over her clit. “Oh god, sir, I can’t hold on much longer!”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to, either.
“You may come,” I said, gasping, holding onto my own orgasm for dear life. I watched as she breathed in, her whole body tensing, and then her legs splayed apart, her back arching as she fell back onto the bed, convulsing in orgasm. She gave herself over to it totally, moaning aloud, her fingers pounding into her as she came.
The moment I saw it start to recede, I snapped: “Sit up, Anne!”
She did so, her fingers still moving gently over her clit as she sat, her legs still spread for my pleasure. I stroked my cock hard, gripping the tip with each stroke, and then I took a step forward, between her legs, and I began to come, my cock spurting over her breasts, coating her skin. She moaned softly as she felt the warm liquid hit her, and I rubbed the tip of my cock over her breasts.
I let go then, looking at her. I couldn’t believe it, but I wanted more. Twice already, today, once with Elizabeth and once now, and all I could think about was coming again. Specifically, I was thinking about coming with Elizabeth. She was who I wanted in bed right now, who I had wished was seductively stripping in front of me a few minutes before. I wanted her, to possess her, to order her, to have her desire to give herself over to my…our…pleasure as fully as Anne was. It infuriated me, that I should desire her so much.
“Get on your knees and get me ready again,” I demanded, and I saw a sleek, satisfied smile pass over Anne’s face, like a cat who has gotten a bird. We normally only fucked once in a night, and I knew she was enjoying my rush of lust. I wondered if she would enjoy it as much if she knew it was caused by another woman.
I had a feeling Anne wouldn’t care. She would probably ask me to bring the other woman over.
She got on her knees, sucking my cock into her mouth, licking away the remains of my orgasm. I could see it still on her breasts, on her skin, and the thought that she didn’t care made my cock surge to life again, aching almost painfully as the blood rushed into it. She was trading enthusiasm for technique this time, her hand cupping my balls as she deep-throated my cock, shoving it deeply into her throat before coming up for air, her tongue licking away every trace of our encounter moments before. She locked her lips around the shaft then, sucking me into her mouth, bobbing up and down until I was rock hard, my fingers gripping her hair.
“Get on the bed,” I snapped. “On your back.”
I reached into the nightstand as she did so, pulling out two lengths of silk rope. She raised her wrists without instruction, and I grabbed them, lashing each to the headboard. Her legs were spread, her lips glistening with moisture, and I knew she wanted me again. I climbed onto the bed, pausing for a moment between her legs, rubbing the tip of my cock against her lips. She breathed in as I touched her, moaned as I slid it over her clit, circling it, holding back my own groans at the sensation of her wet heat against me.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I pushed into her, sliding in with one long thrust that ended with her hips arching up and moans spilling from her mouth as I began to thrust. I watched her face as I slid in and out of her, enjoying the way her lips parted and she breathed in with small gasps every time I thrust in. She was tight and hot and I already felt a third orgasm approaching, the muscles of my abdomen tightening as I plunged in and out of her. I grabbed her legs, putting her ankles on my shoulders, and I saw her strain against the ropes that held her to the bedframe, her fingers curling as she gasped out: “Please, sir, may I come?”
I didn’t have the presence of mind to draw it out. Holding onto her legs, fucking her furiously, I ground out: “Yes,” in a deep growl that sent her over the edge. Her back arched, her muscles spasming around me as she came, nearly screeching with the pleasure of it as I pounded into her. Barely a few moments later, her body still trembling with the aftershocks, I felt my muscles seize and my cock throb, and I poured myself into her, hips bucking as I followed her lead.
I fell to the side, letting go of her legs, collapsing on the mattress. I was totally spent, my frustration eased, and all I wanted in that moment was to close my eyes and fall asleep in exactly that spot. Anne cleared her throat, tugging at her bonds pointedly, and I raised myself up off of the mattress long enough to untie her wrists before falling back, my head landing on my pillow. Anne laughed. “Glad to see I got it all out of you,” she teased, leaning ov
er to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Call me anytime, love. Your driver will be downstairs?”
I nodded, reaching for my phone to text him. It occurred to me that I could ask her to stay, but I knew she wouldn’t, anyway. She had a place nearly as well-appointed as mine, and she’d said many times she preferred to sleep in her own bed. Alone.
I watched her go, her naked, still pink ass swaying from side to side as she collected her clothes. I heard the door shut behind her, and I closed my eyes, expecting sleep to claim me immediately. Instead, the languor that had followed my explosive orgasm had abruptly vanished, and I lay wide-eyed, wondering what Elizabeth was doing at the moment, and hoping, hypocritically so, that she was alone in bed.
Damn it.
Chapter 3
Ellie
I don’t know how I got through the rest of the week. Ethan didn’t say one word to me about our passionate encounter on his desk. In fact, he could barely look at me the next day, which made me think that he regretted what we’d done. I knew that should make me feel grateful—that what was surely a mistake was blowing over without any effort. But instead, it made me feel bereft and hurt, much as I’d felt when he’d turned away from me afterwards. I couldn’t decipher what was going on in his head, and I knew that asking wouldn’t do me any good. In fact, I wasn’t altogether sure that I wanted to know.
Somehow, I floundered through the week, more distracted than focused. By Friday afternoon, he’d made no mention of meeting for a mentoring session, and I supposed he probably thought that my place as his assistant was mentorship enough. I was glad, myself, not to have to worry about facing him on the weekend. Two days free…well, mostly free, of Ethan was like a vacation at this point. I would still think of him—how could I not? But at least he wouldn’t be on the other side of the door, oozing sex in his tailored suit and Chanel cologne, tempting me every moment to walk into the office and start unbuttoning my blouse.
Not that I ever would, of course. I do have my pride.
I left Friday afternoon and made a beeline for the house. Catherine had promised to be there to help me get ready for my date, and Brian was picking me up at seven. I was grateful for the distraction. I hadn’t seen him in nearly a week, and although it was hard to drag my thoughts away from Ethan when I was near him, I found myself thinking more and more of the night I’d spent with Brian, once I was away from the office. It had been good…better than good. And there had been a sense of normalcy in it, a certain happy domesticity to waking up next to him and getting ready for work that I craved. The problem was that I didn’t know which I craved more—the peaceful simplicity of being with Brian, or the passionate craving that Ethan engendered in me.
If I was being entirely truthful, I didn’t want to give up either one.
Catherine had beaten me to the house, and she was already digging through my closet by the time I got there. She tossed a pair of dark skinny jeans on the bed, and rifled through one of my drawers. “You want to look nice, but not like you care too much. That’s the vibe these sorts of places have. Here we go!” she crowed triumphantly as she pulled a forest green cashmere sweater out that my mother had given me for Christmas one year. “This, the jeans, and oh! Here. This jacket.” She tossed my leather, shearling-lined bomber on the bed next to it. “Start getting dressed!” she urged as she turned back to the closet. “Shoes…”
I tugged on the jeans, pulled the—admittedly cozy—sweater over my head, and left the jacket, not wanting to overheat and melt before I even made it to the date. Catherine had found a pair of black leather booties, and she brought those out as well. “Here we go. Now what about your hair?”
I shrugged. “This is why I brought in the reinforcements.”
She tugged me by the hand into the bathroom, where she sat me down on a stool and promptly plugged in a curling iron. Meanwhile, she started applying my makeup.
I had to admit, it was nice to be fussed over. I breathed in and out, trying to relax as she blended and shaded and powdered, doing my face first and then applying eyeshadow. I balked at first when I saw the black and grey “smoky” palette she pulled out, but she reassured me that it would be fine, and when she was done, I was surprised at how subtle it looked. She’d done a really fantastic job. She handed me a mascara tube and some lipstick, and let me apply those myself while she checked on the curling iron.
She did quick work on my hair, and when she was done it fell softly around my face in small waves, nothing too dramatic. I felt very pretty, and I gave her a hug when I stood up. “Thanks,” I said.
“Not a problem! You know I love this stuff.” Catherine put away the tools we’d used, and I went to find some jewelry, settling on a pair of onyx studs and a couple of silver bracelets. I put on the booties and shrugged into the jacket, and not a moment too soon. I heard a knock on the door, and hurried to open it. Brian was standing there in his own leather jacket, with a flannel underneath, dark jeans and boots. I was glad I hadn’t overdressed.
“I got a cab waiting for us. Ready to go?”
I nodded. Catherine gave me a thumbs up as I headed outside with Brian to the waiting cab. It was a short ride downtown, and he reached for my hand as the cab wove through traffic. I let him, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling his rougher palm and wide fingers lace through mine. His skin was warm, pleasant against my cold hand. I liked the feeling of comfort that I had with him. There was no anxiety, no building tension, no question of where the night might go—all of the things that attracted me to Ethan. There was only an easy sense that the night would go wherever it might, and we would go along with it.
We got to the restaurant, a small building wedged between two bars, and Brian paid the cab driver. I didn’t know why it didn’t bother me so much when Brian paid for things. Maybe it was that he wasn’t as extravagantly rich as Ethan, or that he didn’t flaunt it as a way to show his power. He did it because it was a nice thing to do, and that was fine with me.
I followed him into the restaurant, which was as cozy on the inside as it looked on the outside, with wooden farm-style tables, and a large brick fireplace in one wall, roaring with a fire. The result was a warm space that smelled of wood and delicious food, and I immediately liked it.
“Care if I order a drink for you?” Brian asked.
Purely because he’d bothered to ask, I nodded in agreement.
The waitress sat me at our table, and Brian returned shortly with a beer for himself and a glass of wine for me. “This is a local red. I think you’ll really like it.”
I took a sip. It was fantastic. It was earthier than the refined wine I’d had with Ethan at the Italian restaurant, and I thought with not a little amusement that the comparison was much like the men themselves. One was refined and expensive, the other, down-to-earth and attainable. Just within reach, while the other remained distant and mysterious. I took another sip. “I love it.”
Brian grinned, and opened the menu, beginning to detail to me the best items. It occurred to me to wonder if he’d brought other dates here, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to care. He’d brought me here, and chosen a great wine, and we were having fun. That was all that mattered.
We ordered a fried corn cake with a green tomato relish, goat cheese and honey drizzle for the appetizer, and when it came and I took a bite, I nearly died. It was amazing. I looked at Brian. “I could live here. Seriously. I’ll sleep next to the fireplace.”
He laughed. “It’s pretty great, yeah? A friend of mine owns it, he sends clients my way to the brewery, and I recommend him to my customers. It’s not hard to, when the food’s this good. And he makes a point of doing everything organic and local, which really goes over well with the clientele.”
“Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right. This is amazing.”
We ordered two dishes to share for dinner, since neither of us could decide. One was a venison steak with mushrooms, onions and a red wine glaze, served with garlic mashed potatoes, and the other was a spice-rubbed f
ish filet in a cream and tomato broth, with zucchini and squash on the side. We had the waitress sit the plates down side by side when she came, and we both dug in, on our second drinks by now. The food was incredible, and we hardly talked through the meal, too intent on eating.
I laughed by the time we reached the end of the plates. “I’m so full I can hardly stand it! Maybe we shouldn’t come to a place so good, we’ve hardly talked at all.”
“We can go back to my place and talk, if you want,” Brian said. I raised an eyebrow and he hurriedly continued: “Just talk, I mean, really…if that’s what you want.”
I smiled. “Your place sounds great.”
The waitress showed us a dessert menu, which sounded amazing, but I couldn’t eat another bite. Brian ordered a bottle of the wine he’d chosen to take with us, over my protests that we could get something less expensive. I finally shut up, figuring that his friend probably was giving him a discount anyway.
Brian paid the check and called the cab back, and we climbed in, laughing and warm from the alcohol and good food.
He wasted no time reaching for my hand, holding it throughout the entire drive. The cab bounced over a few holes and I slid closer to him, and I made a point of not going back. He slid his arm around my shoulders, and I rested my head on his for a moment, before turning my head to look up at him.
He bent his head then and kissed me, his lips as soft and unassuming as I remembered them being the last time. I returned the kiss, pressing my mouth against his, my tongue flicking out to taste him. He was spicy and sweet all at once, and I could taste the remnants of the hops of the beer on his breath, not unpleasant at all. His fingers tightened on my shoulder, and he leaned towards me, his lips parting and deepening the kiss. I breathed in, my hand clutching his arm, and he groaned softly, one hand going to my waist as if to pull me onto his lap.
