‘Wait, Paul has not come yet. We help him, yes?’
I didn’t need any further encouragement as both of us stroked and licked Paul’s cock as he lay back on the pillows, David watching us with an exhausted grin. Olga’s face was close to mine and I felt a thrill of excitement as her tongue occasionally darted into my mouth as we ran our tongues up his delicious shaft.
I’d enjoyed our little rivalry, but I wanted it to be me to give Paul the final flourish, so I eased Olga aside and greedily deep throated him until his hot fluid exploded in my mouth.
We enjoyed the luscious afterglow on the bed, drinking champagne and caressing each other, until it was time to leave the club. Although I’d had a great time, there was still a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. The sex had been great, but what I really wanted was Paul to myself.
Five
The next week, work seemed to just drag by as I waited for Friday night to come around and the next session at the club. Was I becoming some sort of sex addict? I certainly enjoyed the rush of excitement I felt whenever I thought about what might happen on my next visit. Although it was really Paul that I thought about.
The other men had been hot, there was no doubt about that, and although it wasn’t really my scene I had felt a thrill of pleasure at seeing other women having sex and being touched by them; but that was all just play, really; a warm up for the main act which was Paul. I’d tried as subtly as I could to get his number, but he didn’t seem to take the hint and I wasn’t going to beg for it. Checks on Google and Facebook produced nothing, so I decided to ask Claire straight out. During lunch I phoned her but I got a frosty response.
‘Darling, you know I’d love to help but I can’t give out details of my boys. Strictly confidential. It’s for everybody’s protection’.
‘Yes of course, I understand, Claire’ I replied.
Did I detect a note of jealous protection in her voice? It was hard to tell, but I got the impression she didn’t want me to get closer to Paul. Perhaps she was somehow worried he’d give up on his club ‘work’ if he found the right girl? He’d damned well better, I thought to myself. Perhaps Claire even wanted him for herself? Her voice brought me back to reality.
‘I knew you would understand. I hope we’ll be seeing you on Friday. I do know Paul is looking forward to it – he mentioned you specifically. See you then, darling!’
Claire hung up. My heart pounded a little. So he did like me! I would definitely be going to the club this Friday and this time I would make my feelings clear.
To my delight and surprise, I didn’t have to. The next day the girl at front desk said a man was waiting for me at the front desk and would only give his first name – Paul. Breathless with excitement I kept calm and told her to send him up to my office. I decided I was going to be cool and professional. No excited schoolgirl stuff.
‘Hello Paul. So you found me then!’ I laughed as we kissed each other on the cheeks.
‘It wasn’t exactly difficult. I suppose I should have called, but to be honest I wanted to see you right away.’ He moved closer to me as I leant against my desk. He looked amazing in a dark navy suit and light blue shirt, the shirt open at the neck showing a glimpse of his dark chest hair.
I couldn’t believe it. Struggling to remain calm, I said ‘Oh really, why’s that then?’
He smiled devilishly and said ‘I think you can guess. Is there a lock on this door?’
My heart pounded again as I smiled back and said ‘Yes. Just a minute.’ I closed the door and turned the key. My office is in a converted Georgian townhouse off Berkeley Square, not some open plan modern place, so there was little chance of us being disturbed.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. ‘This may sound strange, but I’m a business woman so I’ll be upfront. Am I paying for this?’
Paul laughed. ‘Of course not! I only get paid at the Belgravia Club. This isn’t business – it’s pleasure!’
I felt a thrill as I realised there could be no doubt that it was me he wanted. I tossed my hair back seductively and walked to my desk. I was wearing my grey Karen Millen suit and a black blouse. I could see Paul’s eyes take in my black stockinged legs as I hoisted myself up onto the edge of my desk. This was my territory and I was going to do things my way.
‘Fuck me. Now.’ I said, without a smile this time.
Paul didn’t say anymore. He didn’t need to. He took off his jacket and began kissing me hard, his tongue probing my mouth as I reached up to feel his strong jaw and run my hands through his hair. His hands were gripping my waist and then kneading my breasts, using his thumbs to rub my nipples erect through the fabric of my blouse.
My desire for him had become urgent and I slipped off my blouse and skirt. Paul smiled as he ran his hands up my legs, feeling them through the sheer material of the holdup stockings.
His trousers didn’t have a belt but side adjusters, the mark of a good tailor I thought to myself inconsequentially, so I loosened them and let them drop the floor as he shrugged off his shirt. His black shorts were hugely tented at the front and I eagerly pulled them down over his cock, which was as large and powerful looking as I had remembered in my fantasies since I had last seen it.
Breathing in the scent of his body I knelt before him and licked and stroked his cock, working my thumb over the glistening tip as I pleasured his balls and shaft. ‘Enough’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for this and I can’t wait any more’.
Nor me, I thought, as I let him lift me up onto the desk and peel off my knickers. I breathed heavily into his ear and said ‘I want you now. Fuck me, fuck me hard on this desk’. He smiled as he straddled me and almost unbearably teased my clit with the head of his cock. Just as I felt I couldn’t stand it anymore he swiftly entered me and I gasped with pleasure. I gripped his gorgeous, toned arse in my hands and pulled him into me as he began thrusting; I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.
He began with long, rhythmic strokes which built up into a swift and merciless ramming as he lifted both my legs up to his shoulders, his pelvis slapping against my arse. I still had my bra on so I forced it off my breasts to enable him to roughly handle them. I was close to coming and began to gasp for breath.
Finally he stroked my clit with just the right pressure to bring me to a shuddering climax as I dug my nails into his back; my whole body yearned for his and the relief was incredible; I felt the warm gush of his own climax as his eyes closed in ecstasy and his thrusting subsided to a gently caress before he withdrew. We both laughed out loud with the release of tension and kissed deeply and passionately.
A few minutes later he had gone, leaving me trembling and exhausted in my chair, too full of happy hormones to do anything but a token amount of work. We’d swapped numbers and with the promise of a meeting next weekend, I realised I had no more need of the Belgravia Club for the time being. Had I found a good man? Only time would tell, but I couldn’t wait to find out.
Also by Clarissa Fenton from Cavendish Velvet Publishing:
Belgravia County
Mayfair hedge fund manager Sara Marshall is unsure where she stands with the attractive but evasive Paul Harris, whom she met through London's decadent Belgravia Club.
When he invites her to stay the weekend with him at the house of two friends, idyllic Wycham Hall in Oxfordshire, she jumps at the chance. But when Paul fails to turn up, Sara realises she has outstayed her welcome - or has she...?
WARNING: This 7700 word novelette contains explicit sex and is for adults only. It can be read on its own or as the sequel to The Belgravia Club.
Danger in Belgravia
After a sensual weekend in the country with a married couple, career girl Sara is called back to London urgently by her friend Claire, organiser of the decadent Belgravia Club. Is Claire really being threatened as she says - or is she drawing Sara into a dangerous game?
WARNING: This 7300 word novelette contains explicit sex and is for adults only. It can be read on its own or as the sequel to 'Belgrav
ia County'.
Sara’s Secret
Successful career girl Sara Marshall has a secret: she is a member of a highly select group of women from London's rich and beautiful elite who meet to turn their fantasies into reality...but when Sara makes the mistake of getting emotionally involved with one of the hand-picked men paid to 'entertain' her, she is drawn into a world of blackmail and deception - which could prove deadly...
WARNING: This c.100 page novella contains explicit sex and is for adults only. It is also available in three separate, previously published parts: The Belgravia Club, Belgravia County and Danger in Belgravia.
Lone Female
'Sometimes I do it in a policewoman's uniform, Carl. With black stockings and skirt just that bit too short. You should see the looks on their faces...do you like that? You're not the only one who gets off on uniforms...’
By day Carl Sanders is a frustrated salesman, stuck in a dead-end job with a boss he hates.
By night, he wears a stolen uniform and impersonates a police officer, pulling over lone female drivers on deserted back roads, getting high on the power - and the sex - that his alter-ego brings him.
Carl reckons he understands female psychology, but his compulsive behaviour is making him take bigger and bigger risks, and one night he picks on the wrong woman. When the beautiful but dominant Laura threatens to expose him, it looks like the game is up - but the game has only just begun, and this time Carl has to play by her rules...
WARNING: this 21,000 word novelette contains explicit sex and is for adults only.
The Belgravia Club Page 3
