by JA Huss
His smile, combined with that fingertip dragging down my arm, has me spinning.
“When you talk to him,” he continues, leaning into my ear, “you get close. As close as you can. And you drop your voice to a whisper.” His breath hits my neck and then finds its way into the shell of my ear.
I moan, my whole body pressing against him. “You make it seem easy.”
“It’s easy if you’re right for each other.”
“How do you find so many who are so right for you when I can’t even find one?” I look up at him, begging him for this answer. “Why do some people draw love to them, and all I can find is… you?”
He laughs that off, but not as easily as before. “You don’t get offers?”
I shake my head. “Not like this.”
“Do you want me to stop, Tiffy?” He stares down at me, his fingers still working their magic on my arm. “Because I will.” I look away, but he gently moves my chin back so I can’t escape. “I don’t want to, but I will.”
But the truth is, I don’t want him to stop. I want him to do everything to me. Everything. But for all the wrong reasons. Fletcher Novak is very hot, but he’s not my type. And this makes me a user, just like him. I only want whatever will come from this experience and not the man himself. And I’ll get in a lot of trouble with my father if he finds out I’m having this kind of relationship with an employee.
“Maybe we—”
But I stop. Because his hand slides under my dress and begins playing with my pussy. Rubbing my clit right through my panties.
“I know what girls like, Tiffy. And I know what guys like. We all like the same thing. To feel special. To feel good. And this feels good, right?”
I am practically panting, that’s how good it feels.
He rips off the unused condom, throwing it aside, and then takes my hand and places it on his hard cock, gently moving it up and down until I make a fist around him. He’s thick, and so hard.
“Guys like that, Tiffy.” He takes my other hand, finds my pointer finger, then brings it to my lips. “Use your mouth, remember?”
I touch my lips, then lick my finger.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, yes.”
I pump him faster, squeeze him harder. He raises his head and arches his back a little before returning his gaze to me. “How close are you? I’m so fucking close.”
“Close,” I repeat, then hesitate.
“How do you like to come, Tiffy? With my fingers doing this?” He strums my clit in little circles and then drives a finger deeper, pushing inside me, right through my panties. “Or with my cock filling you up until you scream?”
“God, I don’t know. I never really do that.”
“Do what?” he asks, taking my finger that’s still up to my lips and kissing it. He puts it inside his mouth and sucks, then slips it out and kisses my mouth. His mouth is hungry. It’s rough again, the tenderness forgotten.
“Get off. I don’t really get off.”
Everything stops—his mouth, his fingers still trying to work their way inside through the barrier of my hundred-dollar lace panties—and he just stares at me. “You don’t orgasm? Ever?”
I laugh, a little bit embarrassed. “I do, I mean, yeah. But only when I…”
He cocks his head at me. “When you…?”
I shrug.
“Masturbate?” he finishes.
I nod, blushing.
And before I know what’s happening, he’s swooped me up into his arms and is kneeling down on the blanket. He lays me down, then spreads my legs and positions himself between them. His cock is still stiff, and he pumps himself a few times absently.
“No more talking, OK?”
I nod, ready for that part of this to be over.
“Just close your eyes, relax, and forget all that bullshit we just talked about. Put all that out of your mind and just feel good for me.”
And before I can even nod out a yes, he’s got my knees up to my chest, my legs spread wide, and he dives between them. My panties are still on, and I stiffen, but he strokes my knee softly and whispers, “Be still.”
I am still.
Until the heat of his breath passes over the thin layer of fabric that stands between him and what we both clearly want. I want him to rip my panties off so bad. I want to feel the texture of his tongue as it sweeps along my folds. I want him to push it inside me, fuck me with his mouth the way he made me fuck him with mine.
But he leaves them on, licking his way up and down the crease between my legs like an expert. His lapping makes them even more soaked than they were, and soon I can feel the pool of desire rushing out. “More,” I beg. I need to feel more.
“Come then, Tiffy. I’ll make you come twice. Three times, probably. But I want it to start like this. So just relax and let that feeling build until you can’t contain it anymore.”
Jesus Christ. No wonder he can get anyone he wants. His words are magic. Everything to do with that mouth is magic. He’s making me crazy.
He pulls my panties aside. Just a fraction. Just enough to let the air sweep in across my clit. Just enough for the tip of his tongue to find its mark. Just enough to—
“Oh,” I moan. Fuck, yes. “Ohhh,” I groan out again. I grab his hair and push his face deeper into me.
My back buckles and my hips thrust up, like I’m the one fucking his face now. I rub myself along his scratchy chin, angling my body so that he hits me as I reach that climax and then sail away into the moaning of the most exquisite release I’ve ever experienced.
He licks me a few more times and then nips my inner thigh until I squeal. “Miss Preston,” he whispers, “I do believe I owe you a taste.” He scoots up my body, dragging that still very hard cock along my belly, right up my two-thousand-dollar pristine white dress.
Then his tongue is in my mouth. It’s sweet with my own desire. It’s tangy, tasting of the most sexual moment I’ve ever had with a man.
“We’re not done yet,” Fletcher says, taking my hand and pushing it down onto his cock. I squeeze him, then flick my fingertip over the little bead of liquid, smearing it across his head as I close my eyes. “Have you ever had multiple orgasms?” he asks.
“No,” I mumble sleepily.
“You’re about to.” He eases off me, flips me over on my stomach, and drags the zipper down my dress.
I don’t care what he does at this point. I just want more. I have never had sex like this. Ever.
He slips my arms out of the dress and then slides it down my legs and tosses it aside. When I look over my shoulder, he’s standing up, kicking off his boots. I watch him from that position and he grins as he takes his faded and ripped jeans off, one leg at a time.
I close my eyes as he eases himself over the top of my back. I open my legs to give him access, but he slaps my ass and says, “Close them back up, princess. I’ll tell you when I want you to move.”
Jesus. He’s got my full attention once again. And I obey without questioning him because he is clearly the expert here.
He reaches down between my now closed legs. He fingers my asshole, just briefly, and then he thrusts his fingers inside my pussy, pumping in and out—quick and rough. He drags the pool of come and saliva up my ass crack, and then I hear the tell-tale sound of another condom being ripped open. He slaps it on and positions the tip of his hard cock between my cheeks.
I look over my shoulder nervously. “I’ve never—”
“Shhhh,” he says. “I know. Just trust me.”
I don’t trust him, not for a second, but his cock eases past my asshole and slips right up into my pussy like it was meant for him. He reaches around my hip and lies down across my back, tilted to the side a little so he can continue playing with me as he eases his cock in and out. So slowly, I’m moaning for more without even realizing it.
It feels so amazing. My virgin ass is so sensitive to all the new touching. And even though this is just plain old pussy-fucking, it’s new in every way possible.
I lose it before I even know what’s happening.
“You needed a good fuck, Tiffy. But holy shit, woman, you’re driving me nuts with your little moans and squeals. I’d fuck you all day if I could. I’d eat your pussy out so much, you’d be sore. I’d fuck your ass and your mouth next.”
I come. I come hard. Then he’s flipping us over, positioning me on top of him. I lift up a little and he shoves his cock inside me.
“Ride me, princess.” He reaches up and squeezes both my tits in unison, then tweaks my nipples until I gasp. “Harder,” he commands, as I move slowly. “Faster.”
I obey. I rock on top of him and then fall forward, drained beyond belief. He slaps my ass, and the crack of the smack wakes me up.
I push myself down into him. And he fills me up so much, I cry out from the pain.
“Shhh,” he says, kissing my mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just want to be inside you. All the way inside you.” And then he pushes my exhausted upper body off him, so I’m sitting on top again, and twists my nipples until I groan. “Fuck, yeah,” he says. “You like that, don’t you, princess?”
I mumble out a, “Yes,” but before I can say anything else, he tugs my upper body back down to his chest and starts hammering into me from below. His balls slap against my asshole so hard, I am breathless.
Utterly breathless.
He holds me down as I struggle to sit up so I can fuck him back. He grabs my hands behind my back and grips my wrists with fierce determination as he continues to pound. The little room fills with the noise of skin slapping skin and that’s it. That added sensory input is all I need to wail out my third orgasm.
Fletcher comes at the same time, grunting into my neck. He releases my wrists and slaps my ass, then grips both cheeks as we reach the pinnacle of pleasure together.
Chapter Nine
When I wake up, he’s gone.
I almost smile. Like for real. Jesus fucking Christ. That was amazing. My first one-night stand. Only it happened in the middle of the day. I have to laugh at that.
Fletcher Novak. He made me come three times.
I roll over and have a moment of fear that he might still be here watching me. That’s enough to make me sit up and cover my bare breasts with my arms.
But he’s really gone. And I breathe a sigh of relief until I spy a note on the footlocker.
Shit.
I reach for it and then squint my sleepy eyes at the sloppy writing.
Hey, princess,
It was fun and all, but you know me. I’m only into the one-time thing. So don’t take it too hard¸ OK? Just accept it for what it is. And hey, I get points for leaving a note, right? I left the roof doors propped open with stones so you can get out of there all covert and shit.
Love ya,
Fletch
Holy hell. Thank God. I had a moment of fear that he might actually be interested in me. Sex on the roof is one thing, but dating an asshole like Fletcher is not in my future. At all. And I’m a little bit amazed that I feel this way. I mean, aren’t girls supposed to feel used after this sort of thing? And I admit, there were a few moments during that whole thing where I might’ve felt a little vulnerable. But not now.
I feel… satisfied. And happy. And ready to try out my new moves on the guy I really want.
Cole.
Shit! I scramble for my bag, dropped carelessly on the floor as I entered the little shed, and check my phone for the time. One o’clock. I have to meet Cole in an hour.
I jump up and find my clothes and shoes, then shrug into them as I grab my bag and stumble my way to the door.
Wow. I had a one-night stand.
I grin a little at that idea. I mean, I have never done that before. But Fletcher Novak was the perfect guy to do it with, right? No-Strings Novak. It should be tattooed on his chest. Plus, he really did give me some tips on how to seduce Cole. I need to make a change. Cole just doesn’t see me as girlfriend material and I think if I sexy myself up a little, I might be able to go from little sister to hot prospect.
I open the door and skip down the steps. I have not felt this good in so long I can’t even remember. Sex. Who knew it was just what I needed?
I giggle a little at that as I get to the door that leads out to the penthouse hallway. I open it just a crack, peek out, and then slip into the corridor and power-walk to my room.
Jesus, I sure hope Claudio hasn’t been looking for me. Fletcher was fun, but I’m never—like ever—gonna tell anyone I had sex with that slut.
I key the door, open it, listen, get silence, and then scoot inside, closing the door softly just in case.
“Claudio?” I call.
Nothing.
Sweet. I jog down the hall, throw my bag on the floor, and then take my clothes off and go into the massive bathroom. It’s spectacular. It’s got a huge tub. Which I’d like to take advantage of right now. I’d love to just soak up this good feeling, relax the muscles that were strained during my secret sex, and enjoy the afterglow.
But I can’t. Date with Cole in T-minus fifty minutes.
We’ve had lunch lots of times and I’m sure he thinks this one will go the same way. Me pretending it’s a date, him clueless as ever. But he’s wrong.
I’ve got seduction tips from a semi-famous stripper. And I’m gonna use every one of them.
Well, maybe not all of them. Not the getting-naked ones. I mean, Cole isn’t a one-night stand kinda guy. He’s a serious guy. Career-minded. Stable, reliable, and maybe even slightly predictable. I like all that stuff.
But none of that says we will be fucking on the roof after we eat. No. Cole is a slow and steady kind of conquest. I need to take this one step at a time and the first step needs to be subtle. Just make him look at me differently. Make him see me as a possibility, even if it’s only for one moment. If I could do that at lunch today I’d call it a success.
I start the shower, which is penthouse perfect. The temperature preset is hot enough to make you steamy, but not enough to burn. In other words, sublime. And it’s a rain shower. So wow. Just what I needed after that romp on the roof.
I look in the mirror for a moment and run all of Fletcher’s tips thorough my mind. Make him look at my mouth, Fletcher said. That was the big one. Make him look at my mouth and then bite my lip a little. Maybe if we have dessert I can stick my finger in some chocolate and then lick it off. Or maybe I can do that move men do in movies all the time and swipe some chocolate off his lip.
Oh my God, I’m dying to get started. We really need to have dessert. Chocolate is perfect.
I get in the shower and smile as I wash the musky scent of Fletcher off me and briefly wonder if I should feel guilty for fucking him as I plan my date with Cole.
Hmmm. It’s kinda skanky. But necessary. It’s research. Besides, Cole and I are not a thing, so it’s not cheating. And I know he dates. I don’t date. So if we’re not allowed to have fun before we date, then he’s cheating on me.
I laugh out loud in the shower. He’s the cheater if this fling with Fletch counts. And that’s ridiculous, so it doesn’t count.
Guilt trip over.
“Tiffy?” Claudio calls out from the door. “What are you laughing about?”
“Oh, hey,” I call. “When did you get back?”
“I was looking for you in the casino. Where the hell did you disappear to?”
“I took a cab down to the shopping district,” I improvise. I did that last night. Before the whole Fletcher thing at the show and while Claudio was getting his spa treatment in here at the hotel. But the shop wasn’t going to deliver the dress until today since I didn’t have time to wait for them to wrap it up.
“Oh, that package that came for you?”
“That’s the one,” I say, relieved my cover story has a bit of truth to it. “I’m wearing it to my lunch date with Cole. Go open it and tell me if you like.”
&n
bsp; “It’s not a date, Tiff. You’re gonna be depressed afterward, as usual, when you finally have to accept it.”
“Just go look at it,” I call before squirting shampoo in my hair and lathering it up.
“I like,” Claudio calls from the living area a few minutes later. “Great color. Pink always looks good on you.” He walks back into the bathroom and takes a seat at the vanity. The shower glass is as clear as the window with the mountain view in the bedroom, but this is Claudio. He’s not even remotely interested in seeing me naked in the shower. In fact, he’s checking his hair in the mirror. “So how did the Fletcher rendezvous go?”
“What?” I almost choke on the shower water.
“The meeting this AM. Did you fire him?”
I chuckle to myself.
“What’s so funny?”
“No. he came in prepared with a proposal to take the show to the next level. And it was good, Claudio. I probably can’t ignore it.” I rinse the shampoo and work the conditioner in, and then rinse that and finish up. Claudio is putting makeup on when I step out of the shower wrapped in a towel.
“Do you like the eyeliner?”
I glance down at him as I walk past, my wet feet slapping on the Carrera marble floor. “You know I do. Especially when you’ve been drinking.”
He gives me a smile. “When in Vegas…”
“We’re not in Vegas, you dummy.”
“Tahoe, Vegas, same thing. Slot machines and strippers everywhere I look. That one guy in the show is so gay, he walks on air. I have my eye on him.”
“Oh, God,” I say as I step into the bedroom and hold the dress up. It is the perfect summer dress, classic with a floral pattern. It’s not quite sleeveless—there’s a hint of a ruffle up there. And it’s got two tiers, with the bottom one hitting me just above the knee. If I twirl, and I did twirl when I bought it last night, then it flares out and an interested man might even catch a glimpse of the perfect pink panties. Not too revealing, a lady doesn’t show too much. And I think Cole likes conservative women. Soft, pretty women. Like me. I always have pink on. I imagine him loving pink.
