Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders for leverage, and he takes my weight, grinds against me until I’m panting into his mouth, my eyes hazy and unfocused as he urges me faster.

  I’m going to come in his arms before he’s even taken his jacket off, and he wants it, I know he wants it.

  “Horny girl,” he breathes, and I shudder.

  My clit grinds against his thigh. My chest presses to his as I suck his tongue into my mouth.

  I lose my mind as I tip over the edge, squirming against him without a scrap of reservation as I moan like the whore I technically am.

  And when I stop, he doesn’t. He doesn’t let me go as I breathe ragged breaths into his mouth. He doesn’t let up his grip on my ass as he walks me backwards to the bed and lowers himself on top.

  His tie falls between my tits and tickles me. The lapels of his jacket are smooth under my fingers.

  “You like the suit,” he comments, and I nod.

  “I love the suit,” I tell him, and I guess that’s why he stays in it. I guess that’s why he unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock free with his clothed flesh against my nakedness.

  I groan as he pushes inside, but my pussy is ready for him this time. I grunt with discomfort at the stretch, but he’s hard and fast, shunting deep as my thighs part to take him.

  “Fuck me,” I hiss.

  And he does.

  He fucks me so hard I bite his shoulder to quell the grunts, his ear against mine as he takes me. I take his ass in my hands and urge him deeper, even though it fucking hurts, and I can hear the noises my pussy is making, the wet slaps as he pounds my flesh.

  “This is insane,” he growls, and it makes me smile.

  He has no idea.

  “I love it,” I whisper, and he lifts his face to search my eyes.

  I hold him, one hand in his hair as my thumb brushes his jaw, and there’s nothing I can do to hide how much I want him. Nothing in the world I could do to play this cool.

  So I don’t.

  I kiss him. Hard.

  He shudders.

  I stroke his face and he groans.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and roll my hips to take him deeper, and I’m groaning too.

  He comes with his forehead pressed to mine.

  “Fuck!” he says with a grunt and his eyes closed tight.

  He’s tense as he explodes, his whole body taut as his heart races through his shirt.

  And then he collapses. I love taking the weight of him, love the way he crushes me into the sheets.

  I listen to him breathe, my fingertips teasing the back of his neck as he calms.

  When he meets my eyes his are no longer cold.

  “I have a gift for you,” he says.

  ALEXANDER

  I FEEL COMPLETELY FUCKING unhinged as I prise myself from her arms.

  I feel like I’ve just been inside Amy’s fucking soul, not just her pussy.

  She’s either the best hooker in the world, or the worst – either playing a straight up scam with world-class stealth, or falling in deep with the man who popped her cherry.

  I’m not sure which I’m most afraid of, and I’m no longer nervous. I’m fucking petrified.

  And yet I can’t fucking stop.

  Her smile is gentle. Her fingers brush my arm as she rolls to face me. “A gift?”

  She’s still breathless. Her lips are puffy from kissing so hard.

  I prop myself on my elbow before I can think better of it, dipping straight into my inside pocket for the fire opal. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of the handkerchief and she gasps when I tumble the gemstone free. It lands on the bed between us, and her fingers dither halfway, her mouth open.

  “But this isn’t…” she starts. “This can’t be…”

  “A gift,” I tell her, and press it into her open hand. “A lucky stone to replace yours.”

  “Fire opal,” she whispers, and my heart starts pounding again. “It’s too much…”

  I hate those words.

  I hate the way they make me feel.

  Over-generous. In too deep.

  Rebuked.

  Like leaving vintage wine on a kitchen island and finding a thanks but no thanks note when you get home.

  “Do you like it?” I ask, and my tone is harsher than I intended. I register the shock on her face.

  “It’s beautiful,” she tells me. She runs her thumb over the smooth face, back and forth.

  “Don’t offend me. I want you to have it.”

  And I do fucking want her to have it.

  I want her to carry a piece of me with her, in her handbag, everywhere she goes. I want her to carry that ridiculously priced gem around every day, checking just to make sure it’s still with her.

  The likelihood is that it will never stay in her handbag, and I know it. She’ll probably shove it on a windowsill somewhere, maybe in a drawer for safekeeping.

  Maybe she’ll even sell it on to a raw stones specialist. Maybe I’ll find it listed at my next specialist auction.

  But none of that matters.

  What matters is the way she’s looking at me. The shock in her eyes as she realises I’m being serious, that this beautiful stone really is for her.

  “One of your collection?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this your favourite?” she asks, and I know I’m definitely fucking insane when I answer her.

  “One of them.”

  “Thank you. I’ll treasure it,” she says, and then she smiles.

  My emotional discomfort eases the moment I see the pleasure in her eyes.

  She loves it just as much as I do, maybe even more. She tips it to the light and the red inclusions sparkle.

  She sighs a happy sigh. “It’s lucky,” she tells me.

  Her contentment makes me smile. “How do you know?”

  She stares me right in the eye as she answers, and I was right. Her fucking soul is swallowing mine whole.

  “Because it’s from you,” she says.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  MELISSA

  I CAN’T STOP STARING at the opal.

  I was expecting months of hard work, months of giving my best just to feel him kiss me and mean it. I was expecting the angel hair quartz to be nothing more than an ice-breaker, a token hint that we have something in common.

  I wasn’t expecting to be lying at his side with one of his prized collection gripped in my fingers a week later.

  I’ve seen this stone.

  Three across, two shelves down. I polished its little plinth last Tuesday.

  I feel bold with this treasure in my hand. I feel like anything is possible. It really is lucky, I know it is.

  And so am I.

  “I love the suit,” I tell him. “But I’d love you more out of it, please.”

  My voice is a whisper tinged with desperation as I reach for his tie. I pull it loose, and he kisses me as I push his jacket from his shoulders. My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, the opal still gripped in my palm as I sweep my hand over his chest.

  He is beautiful.

  He is everything.

  My breath is shallow as he pushes me onto my back and kicks his trousers off. Skin on skin feels divine, his cock hard against my thigh as he lowers his mouth to my nipple. I stare at his mouth as he flicks his tongue, and it takes me by surprise as his fingers find my clit.

  “You’re going to come for me until you’re exhausted,” he tells me, and I moan for him. His fingers sink inside, and I feel a pressure as he moves them. “Until you’re exhausted,” he repeats and I nod.

  His fingers are fast and deep, the pressure inside grows intense, building higher and higher until I can’t keep still. My legs wriggle and my ass bucks from the bed, my throat making stupid groans as I grab at the sheets.

  His arm pistons. I can hear how wet I am.

  “Nice and wide,” he whispers, and I spread my legs for him as wide as they’ll go, not caring that I look like a frog. Not caring that my hair is sti
cking to my clammy forehead, or that I’m probably wearing more red lipstick on my chin than my mouth.

  He kisses my belly as he lowers himself down the bed, and his arms wrap around my thighs and pull my pussy to his mouth.

  He sucks. He sucks right on my tender clit with his fingers inside me, and it’s too much.

  I grip his hair as I come, and he likes it, he growls at me and sucks harder. I wrap my legs around his shoulders and pin him tight, and he likes that too. He slides a finger into my ass as I buck for him, and I cry out over and over.

  I worry as I catch my breath, worry that tonight should be about his pleasure, not mine. But his cock is so big as he gets up to retrieve his case, his eyes hungry as he unclasps it on the bed and takes out a massager.

  He plugs it in behind the nightstand.

  “Until you’re exhausted,” he says again, and turns it on.

  The big purple head of it buzzes. He trails it across my tits and it vibrates all the way through me. It tickles my belly on the way down, and I’m already crazy when it reaches my clit, already hissing as I know what’s coming.

  He lies at my side, my thigh sandwiched between his, his cock at my hip as he presses the massager tight against me. He nuzzles my neck, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath warm and raspy.

  “I want to know what turns you on,” he tells me. “You’re going to tell me.”

  “This…” I whisper, and he nips my ear.

  “I want to know what you think about when you play with yourself.”

  “You,” I tell him, and he nips me again.

  “Don’t lie to me, Amy,” he growls, but I’m not. I tell him so.

  He turns my face to his, and I tell him again.

  “You. I play with myself and I think about you.”

  “That’s…”

  “Crazy,” I tell him, and I don’t care. “I know. But it’s true. And I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

  He looks torn, and I hate that. I hate the way he’s fighting what he already knows.

  “Why me?” he asks, and flicks up the speed of the massager. It makes me squirm.

  “Because…” I begin, and I don’t know how to answer.

  “Why?” he repeats.

  But he’s too late, because I’m already tumbling, already riding the wave, my body a clammy wreck against his.

  He doesn’t take the massager away, not even when I’m wriggling at the contact.

  “You play with yourself and you think of me, why?”

  “Because… because you’re… everything…” I breathe, and it’s such a stupid thing to say. He stares down so hard on me. “Last weekend… when you took me… it was everything… you took everything…”

  He blinks, and I think I’ve got away with it.

  “You… when you choked me… it felt so good…” I tell him. That gets a reaction. I feel his cock twitch against my hip. “And I want more… I want so much more… it’s not just… about the money…”

  “Why are you here?” he growls, and his lips press to the corner of mine.

  “Because… of you…” I hiss. “Only you…”

  “And what if it wasn’t me who’d bought your exclusivity?”

  “I wouldn’t be here…”

  I don’t know if he believes me. I hope he does.

  “You don’t even know me,” he says.

  I meet his eyes. “I feel you,” I whisper, and I’m going all in. My clit is sending me insane. “And I think… I hope… I hope you feel it, too… because it’s crazy… but it’s true… I feel you…”

  The only sound above the massager is my own raspy breath. He’s silent. And I can hardly look at him, can hardly face the rejection I know is coming.

  Only it doesn’t.

  “I think about you,” he tells me. “So I guess we’re both fucking crazy.” He breathes against my lips. “I’m dangerous,” he rasps. “My tastes are dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”

  My eyes bore into his. “Do it,” I tell him. “Please… do it.”

  He pauses for just a second, long enough to press his lips to mine.

  And then he closes his fingers around my throat.

  ALEXANDER

  I’M ALWAYS CONTROLLED. Steady.

  But when I clasp my fingers around her pretty throat this time, I’m neither.

  My left hand is clumsy. My weight is precarious on my elbow as I cut off her air.

  I keep the bodywand to her swollen little bud, piling on the pressure as she squirms and splutters and shivers for me.

  The girl is fucking crazy. And so am I.

  I feel the strain of her throat and it makes my balls tighten. Her airless mouth makes my cock twitch, and I want to fuck it. I really want to fuck it.

  But not yet.

  Her eyes are watery pools as I rise to sitting, and I have a great vantage point from here, staring down on her as she grips her thighs to stop herself fighting.

  I wait until the last moment, until I feel her slipping into unconsciousness, and then I let her take one long gulp before I hitch onto my knees and plough my dick straight into her open mouth. She retches. I feel her throat constrict, and I love it. I fucking love it.

  She’s wriggling under the massager as I shove my cock down her throat. I love the way it bulges for me. I run my fingers over her neck and I feel myself in there.

  “You’re everything… you took everything….” Her words have fucking addled me. I’m riding the crazy train all the fucking way.

  I ride her fucking throat with fucking everything.

  I wait until she’s coming under the massager, her whole body fucking wired before I let myself shoot my load.

  She coughs as I pull out, and my cum splatters down her chin, creamy white mixing with smeared lipstick.

  She looks fucking beautiful.

  I scoop it back into her mouth with my thumb. “Another gift,” I tell her, and she swallows. She swallows every drop and then she smiles.

  I turn off the massager and she sighs in relief.

  She flinches as I brush my thumb over her swollen clit, but she doesn’t stop me.

  I’m getting the impression she’ll never stop me, no matter what I do.

  The prospect that I’m going to find out fills me with fear and awe in equal measure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  MELISSA

  THE SUN IS RISING through the crack in the drapes as Alexander Henley comes in my ass for the final time this evening.

  I’m exhausted, and he must be too. His chest heaves against my back as he recovers.

  My ass is on fire. My clit is swollen and aching. My throat is raspy and raw.

  He must be done. We must be done.

  I’m disappointed, even though my body is absolutely spent. Beyond spent.

  We don’t move, either of us, just stay entangled with his cock pulsing against my sore asshole.

  I wonder if he’ll want me to leave now. If he’ll get up and leave like last time with nothing but a parting goodbye, but when he lifts himself from my body he pulls me with him. I move so easily, his chest still hot against my back as he rests his chin on my head. His arms wrap around my waist, and he holds me.

  Alexander Henley actually holds me.

  “Fuck,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling.

  It takes me by surprise, and I giggle.

  “That was… intense…” I hold up the opal to the morning light. “Lucky,” like I said.

  “Lucky?”

  I nod.

  “You’re putting a good anal pounding down to a lucky crystal, are you? Tell me how lucky you think it is when you’re limping through the foyer later.”

  Later.

  He realises what he’s said, I’m sure of it, because he reaches for the remote control on the nightstand and flicks on the TV clock.

  It’s gone six in the morning.

  “You must be tired,” I tell him.

  “I don’t sleep.”

  “You don’t?”

&n
bsp; “Not easily.”

  I turn over to face him. “Not even in a comfy bed at a swanky spa resort?”

  “Not even in a comfy bed at a swanky spa resort.” His eyes are so tired. “But you could.”

  My tummy flips. “Here?”

  “If you would like.”

  I’m stupidly nervous given that he just spent the whole night in every single part of me. “And you? Will you stay too?”

  He takes a breath. “I have to get home.”

  “Okay,” I say, and I can’t hide the disappointment. I don’t want to.

  He looks as though he’s going to add something, so I wait quietly, giving the pause he needs.

  It works. I can’t believe it works, but it does.

  “I’ve got a dog,” he tells me, and my heart jumps at the fact Ted Brown told me something real about Alexander Henley. He stares right through me. “But I could stay awhile. Until you get to sleep.”

  I smile so bright. “I’d like that.”

  He shunts enough to pull back the bedcovers and I slip inside. He fluffs up the pillows and rolls to face me.

  “I don’t sleep,” he says again, “but don’t let that stop you.”

  But he does sleep. I know that because I’m still watching him through pretend-closed eyes as his close for real.

  ALEXANDER

  IT’S GONE ten when I get home to poor Brutus. A cunty move that takes me completely by surprise.

  I wasn’t lying – I don’t sleep. Only I did fucking sleep. I slept like a fucking log for four fucking hours straight, tangled in the limbs of a stranger with her pretty face against my shoulder, as though I was in the arms of a fucking angel.

  Yes, it’s that fucking ridiculous.

  I feel grimy in yesterday’s suit, my shirt crumpled to fuck and my hair fresh from fucking bed in my haste to get back for him.

  My grumpy black beast pads nonchalantly through from the conservatory as though he’s hardly noticed I’ve gone as I deactivate the alarm. I love how he plays it cool.

  He’s left me a couple of parcels by the back door, and looks surprisingly pleased with himself as I busy myself cleaning up.

  “I’m a prick,” I tell him. “I fell asleep. Who’d have fucking thought it, hey?” I ruffle his ears when I’m done. “A dick move, boy. It won’t happen again.”