by Emily Bishop
Now I know that to be true.
“Oh my god!” I scream.
My body jerks as another powerful orgasm rocks through me. This time, Booker does stop. I can hardly breathe. My chest rises and falls with the effort. I’m scared to look at him, but I have to. Now that the lust cloud has dissolved, the reality of our situation is settling uncomfortably back between us.
When I finally brave a look, I can’t read his expression. Does he expect me to make my move now? Is it my turn to please him, like we would have done were this a text conversation? In my mind, Master and Booker are two different men, so I’m looking at one and seeing the other, and my mind is a jumble. I would never presume to make a move on Mr. Knight, the boss. I would jump on Master in a heartbeat.
Ugh, this is all so damn confusing!
“That was…” I say. I can’t complete the thought. Is it weird to say that it was nice? Pleasant? The hottest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life?
Seeing my unease, Booker smiles and hands me my skirt.
“Yes. It most certainly was.”
He stands and presses the button for the elevator to resume movement. I wonder if this is it. Are we done here? There is so much that we haven’t said. I’m confused and sated and empty all at once, and it’s not an altogether pleasant sensation.
Not to mention I have about two minutes to get dressed before my ass is exposed to the entire lobby downstairs.
I slide back into my panties and skirt, then step into my heels. Booker bends down and slides the strap of his work bag back over his shoulder. I can’t read him. That’s distressing on so many levels. The man just had his tongue in my… well.
You would never guess that now. I turn to ask him what the hell is going on in his head when we reach the lobby and the door opens.
I stare out at an empty foyer, grateful no one is here. I must look like I’ve been ravaged by this man. I imagine my hair can’t be in that neat little chignon I made up this morning while I was delaying my commute. I can feel strands of it draping down my shoulders, in fact. I must look like a complete mess.
“What now?” I ask.
I need to know. What does Booker have planned? Is this where we are now? Physical in secret without words? I can’t live like that. I wonder if he can. What was it Lucy said? This was how he operates? No feelings, just sex?
That’s not what Master would do. There is so much more to him than meets the eye. More to him than whatever reputation he’s built up for himself. When Booker looks down at me, I can still see that hunger in his eyes and I know.
We’re not done yet.
“Come home with me,” he says. “Come home with me and I’ll show you what it means to live, Angel. I’ll show you what it means to feel. Can you do that? Can you handle it?”
It’s not quite a demand and not quite a request. Somehow, he’s managed to land perfectly between the two, managing to still be controlling while providing me an exit, if I so desire one.
I don’t. I have so many unanswered questions. I have so much more I want to do. What happened in the elevator was a teaser, but what if there’s more?
I hope there’s so much more.
“OK,” I say. The barest hint of a smile dances across his lips before it disappears. He pulls out his phone and presses a button, then slides it back into his bag.
“This way,” he says.
We step onto the empty sidewalk to see a black town car waiting at the curb. Booker steps up to the car and opens the back door then steps aside.
“After you, Angel,” he says.
I shiver at the use of that name. It feels so strange, hearing him call me that. My worlds have tangled and collided, and I have no idea what I’m doing here. Flying by the seat of my pants, I guess.
One never knows where they might end up with Booker Knight.
Booker slides in beside me. The car is already warm. It smells like luxury. I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe it’s the scent of the leather seats or the crisp uniform of his driver. It’s a world I’ve clearly never been privy to, though I’ve always known on some level it existed.
The streets of New York whiz by as our driver makes his way in silence. I feel a little uneasy with all this quiet. Why aren’t we talking like we do in the app? If this were the app, we could be having jovial conversation the whole way. Is Booker that different in person? He can’t talk unless it’s in text?
I stare out the window and wonder if I should ask to be taken home instead. Booker slides his hand into mine and gives it a squeeze, and when I look at him, I still can’t read his expression, but there’s a question there.
Is he asking me to be patient with him? To wait until he’s comfortable with our twisted situation?
It’s a fair question. I don’t know if that’s the one being asked, though. I’m about ready to launch into a series of questions when the driver pulls up to another curb, and Booker opens the door. When he releases my hand to get out, the emptiness returns.
What’s that all about?
Booker says nothing to his driver as he closes the door behind me. He presses his hand at my lower back and guides me into a posh apartment building. When we reach the elevators, he walks past them to a separate set and inserts a key.
Wow.
I step inside the elevator and watch as he presses the button for the top floor. We stand side by side in silence once more as my mind drifts to the last thing we did in an elevator just like this one. Maybe it’s my turn to press the pause button and go down on him, but I don’t have the guts for that yet.
Maybe in time. If we ever learn to trust each other like we did before we knew who we really were.
The elevator dings at the top, and when the doors open, I’m greeted by an expansive penthouse apartment. Windows all around showcase the city of New York, but that’s really the only decoration. The place is fairly barren, no pictures anywhere, no sign that anyone actually lives here. It’s like a hotel room, as though the person living there never intended to stay long.
I realize in this moment that I know nothing about the man standing before me, even as I know everything. When I look at him, I can’t stop the question from coming.
“What am I doing here, Booker?”
In his gaze, I find my answer, and my whole body grows hot.
Chapter Eighteen
Booker
Her skirt is wrinkled beyond repair, thanks to me.
I want to grin, but I can’t bring myself to. I’m too hungry. I’ve wanted this woman more than anything, or anyone. I can see in her eyes that she knows where this is going.
That she wants to go there. With me.
I will be the one to claim her virginity. She will be mine tonight. I step toward her and walk around her. I take in her curves, her peaks and valleys. Everything. There’s so much hiding beneath those clothes, and I’ve only had a small taste.
What a taste it was.
I return to face her. She’s trembling. I wonder if she’s afraid. This will be her first time, and I want her to feel safe. To feel comfortable.
To feel passion.
I reach out and run my fingers along her arm. She shivers, but she doesn’t move.
I step closer. I can feel her breath on my collarbone. When she braves a look up into my eyes, I know what she finds there.
A promise.
This is her first time. I have to keep that in the back of my head, because if I don’t, I’m going to fuck her as hard and deep as I can. I have to find control. Ever since I’ve met her, I seem to have lost it completely.
I run my hand along her cheek until I cradle her jaw in the palm of my hand. Her eyes are wide, and even in the dark of my apartment, I can catch the little flecks of gold among the green.
My god, she is beautiful.
I lower my head, unable to resist, and capture her lips with mine. I explore her. Taste her. Indulge in the feeling of having her here, in the flesh, not just a figment of my lust-filled imagination. She reach
es up and grasps the back of my neck, then tugs me down to take in more of me.
I’ll take that as acceptance, then.
She takes a cue from me and explores my mouth with her tongue. There’s some hesitation there, and I pull her closer, crushing her body to mine. I want her to feel my erection against her pussy. I want her to ache for it to be inside her. She whimpers and presses closer. There is far too much clothing between us.
My hand darts to her blouse, and I realize it’s still unbuttoned. I tug it from her shoulders and let it to fall to the floor. I don’t waste time as my fingers move along her shoulders, my lips still busy on hers as I discover and taste her. Her bra is black silk, just like her underwear. Her breasts are on the smaller side, but they cup perfectly in my palm. I reach back and unclasp the bra without trouble.
This is not my first rodeo.
For a moment, Sasha holds her bra to her chest between us. I lick her lips with my tongue, and she releases it to the floor. Her nipples are hard and pink. I want to nibble on one and see how she tastes.
I want to taste all of her. And I want her pussy in my mouth again. Dripping and hot.
Before I can get there, she reaches down and slides her skirt and underwear all the way down. When she steps out of them, she leaves her black heels on.
Oh, fuck yes.
She steps back, fully naked except for her heels. This is the wanton goddess that is Angel. She is the woman of my fantasies, creating a far better reality than even I could have imagined.
“Now you,” she breathes.
I can tell her bravado is half-staged. She wants to be the vixen, but she is so clearly the virgin, nervous and excited all at once. My heart tugs at my chest, and I ignore it. The call of my dick is so much stronger.
“Undress me then,” I say.
She grins and steps forward, eager to do as I command. Still, her hands tremble a little as she undoes the buttons of my white collared shirt. When she reaches the bottom, she spreads her hands along my chest before she tugs it down over my arms onto the floor. Her hands reach for my belt next, and she hesitates, casting a glance up at me before she unbuckles it and unzips my pants.
My erection springs forth, still trapped in my boxer briefs, as she slides the pants to the ground. I glance down at Sasha, still on her knees.
“I want you to take off my underwear and then suck my dick,” I tell her.
She grins up at me.
“I’ve wondered what you taste like,” she whispers.
Yes. Have a taste, little innocent. See what it’s really like.
She pulls down my underwear, and my cock jumps free, ready to be handled. She stays on her knees as she strokes it a few times then sinks her mouth right over and down.
“Oh my fucking lord,” I moan.
She sucks in and slides her little mouth up and down the length of me, licking the tip like an expert. Where did she learn how to do this? Please don’t let it stop.
She flicks her tongue over the tip of my dick before taking me back in her mouth and gliding back down, happy to take in more. I watch her head bob back and forth as my body erupts with sensation. I want more. I want to be inside her.
“Stand up,” I say.
She wipes her mouth and rises to meet me. When she looks me in the eye, I see lust there.
She has no idea what she’s about to experience.
“My username was indicative of my personality. I am the Master, here. Tonight you belong to me.”
I grab her arm and tug her to me, our bare skin meeting for the first time. Her soft breasts against my chest are exquisite, and I claim her mouth once more as I lift her into my arms. I can feel her heat as I hold her. She’s ready to be taken. I carry her into my bedroom. I couldn’t take her for the first time in an elevator. I want it to be a good experience for her. I want her to be comfortable, and where better than my enormous bed to lose one’s virginity?
I lay her down on the soft mattress, my body still hovering over hers, our lips enmeshed. I release myself from her mouth and venture down her chin. My tongue slides down her neck, further down, until I finally reach one perfect nipple. I take it in my mouth and suck like I did on her clit, nice and hard. She gasps and arches her breasts into the air, begging me to take more. I nibble a little, and she moans.
So far, so good.
I slide my tongue along her sternum until I reach the other nipple. It’s only fair, after all. I sink my teeth into it just a little then flick my tongue along the tip.
“Oh, Booker,” she gasps.
“Mr. Knight,” I correct her. “Tonight, I’m still in charge.”
She hesitates, then complies. “Yes, Mr. Knight.”
I slide my hand down to her pussy and tickle her clit. “Very good,” I say.
I circle her clit with my finger then slide it down to her hot opening. I want to make sure she’s ready for my girth. I slide in my middle finger. My god, she’s tight. I glide it in and out as her hips rise and fall to meet my rhythm. I add my ring finger and slowly slide them both in together, filling her.
“Oh… oh, my…” she pants.
She’s ready. So am I. I remove my fingers and move back up her body until my face is above hers.
“Here we go,” I say. “Spread your legs. Nice and wide.”
Her legs open up for me, her tight little pussy just ready for the taking. I guide my cock to her entrance. It’s perfectly hot and slick, but I know this is careful work. At least, this time.
I press in a little. She’s so tight around me I nearly come on the spot, but I hold back. I want this to be good. No. I want it to be fucking amazing. I slide in more until I reach a little barrier. I lock eyes with Sasha as I press on. With one smooth thrust, I glide all the way in. I watch her face but see no trace of pain.
Just pleasure.
“You’re mine now,” I breathe.
“Yes,” she says.
I slide back out until my tip is just about to exit, then I glide back in, nice and slow. She adjusts her hips to fit me in, her legs still spread, her heels high in the air. I pull her legs a little wider, then press in all the way. I glide in and out, mind-numbingly slow. Her warm center welcomes me home with each thrust.
She arches her hips against me, silently asking for more. I’m a little surprised, but why should I be? Sasha was made for this. I increase my pressure and push in with a little more force.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Oh, lord, yes.”
Well, far be it from me, right?
I pick up my pace. I speed up my thrusts until we go from sex to fucking. My balls slap along her ass as she spreads her legs an inch wider to take more of me in.
“Talk dirty, like we do in the app,” I command.
“Fuck me, Mr. Knight. Fuck me as hard as you can. Slap my clit!”
My hand shoots down to give her little bean a nice slap as I fuck her. Our bodies writhe together as I glide in and out of her tight little hole. I rub my thumb all around her clit as I keep up my pace.
“Yes! Fuck! Me! Oh god!”
Her screams echo across the room. I thrust and thrust, and my own orgasm looms. I need her to finish first, so I can unload. I press my thumb into her clit and rub it nice and hard.
“Ahh!” she cries out. Her pussy pulses around my cock, and I can’t contain myself anymore. With one more glide, I come right along with her with a grunt.
I collapse on top of her, our bodies still joined as we fight to regain rational thought. I don’t want to think about anything beyond this moment. As my breathing calms, I slide out of her and cradle her in my arms. I’m instantly aware of how long it’s been since I’ve slept.
A wave of peace washes over me as I hold Sasha in my arms, sated and warm. Her breathing slows, but I have no idea if she’s fallen asleep or not. Before I go unconscious, I have only one thought
Mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Sasha
I shift in my sleep and roll over.
The pillow smells l
ike a man. Huh. That’s…
In a flash, the night before rushes through my memory, and my eyes shoot open. I’m alone in Booker Knight’s enormous bed. Sunlight streams along the empty pillow beside me. I stretch my legs and realize I’m sore.
Down there.
A smile creeps over my lips as I realize I am no longer a virgin. I never really felt stigmatized by it, but it kind of feels good to see what life is like on the other side. I’ve so often wondered, but never enough to go to bed with the boys who tried to date me before.
Now I’m glad I waited. Sex with Booker Knight was everything I dreamed it would be and more. I inhale as I stretch out on his enormous bed.
Bacon. There is definitely bacon cooking.
My stomach growls in protest, and I realize that I kind of skipped out on dinner last night in favor of sexy time. With Master.
Master, indeed. Yummy.
I toss back the covers and realize my clothing is still in his living room. Do I feel like being brazen and stepping back out in nothing but my heels? My sore ladyparts make a gentle protest, and I decide against it. Perhaps I can be persuaded into a morning session with enough of a warm-up, but I won’t press the issue.
In the light of day, things can look a lot different.
Not that that’s a bad thing. I wouldn’t mind seeing what Booker’s body looks like in broad daylight. In fact, I salivate over the thought. I pad over to one of his cherry wood dressers and pull open a drawer. I sift through until I find a long button down business shirt and slide into it. I’m buttoning the last bit as I walk through the door and back out toward the main area.
The place is enormous. Maybe it feels more cavernous because it’s so sparse. I wonder where all the furniture is. He can’t possibly live like this all of the time, can he?
The scent of eggs and coffee mingle with the bacon, and my mouth is watering as I head in that general direction. A kitchen is hidden off the main room, and I find Booker standing behind a large stainless steel stove. He’s already dressed for work in a gray button-down and a pair of slacks. He flips a fried egg with expert precision, then pokes at a piece of bacon, totally focused. For a moment, I indulge in simply watching him.
