by Dae, Harlem
“Business?” I said, annoyed with myself for sitting as she’d instructed. Annoyed that two minutes in her company had changed me from a strong-willed, dominant man into…what?
A man who would do anything she said.
“Yes, business.”
She strode to my desk and pressed her pelvis against it. The edge dug into the pad of flesh just above her cunt, and immediately my thoughts went to what was below that edge. Was she wet? I suspected she was—I had no doubt she got off on this kind of thing. The thought of her having damp knickers had my cock straining uncomfortably.
“Really, Zara, you can’t just waltz in here without letting me know first.” I reached down to adjust myself. “Believe it or not I have work to do.”
She nodded in the direction of my groin. “I was right. We do have business to attend to.”
With a sudden movement, she was beneath the desk. I looked down to see her on hands and knees, staring up at me with her head tilted, eyes wide. Knowing eyes that proved to me she could strip a man bare, leaving him helpless and at her mercy while she probed deep into his soul. A dangerous woman, who offered me a silent question, one I wasn’t sure how to answer. My body knew what she intended to do before I’d had the chance to think about saying yes or no, and of their own accord my knees sprung apart, giving her ample space to settle between them.
“I need breakfast,” she said, deftly undoing my trousers and taking out my painfully hard cock.
Jesus Christ. Really?
I glanced at the shut door. Behind it Mary would be sitting at her desk, beyond that several more secretaries and my partners in offices, all busying away. And here was Zara releasing my dick. Anyone could walk in…
Zara pitched forward and swallowed me down, giving me no chance to protest, and if I was honest, I didn’t have it in me to stop her, despite our precarious situation. She was hungry, and I’d been more than ready to feed her before she’d turned up so how the hell was I supposed to resist?
The vein in my cock pulsed, and I hoped she could feel it on her tongue, that she’d know the tell-tale stirring of an orgasm was swirling in my balls and fizzing at the base of my spine. This was no time to enjoy a slow, sensual blowjob. A fast release was required, something that might get her out of my bloody system when I spurted cum down her throat and reduced the risk of us being interrupted.
Again she bobbed her head, her suction sublime and all too damn pleasurable. I gave in, gripped the armrests and relaxed against the back of my chair, stared at the door, willing it to stay shut. I lifted my hips, forcing my cock further into her mouth, wanting to see if she balked. Needing to see if I could surprise her, catch her off guard. She took it all in her stride, damn her, drawing her mouth up, a hard and tight channel around me, and gave me a coy glance through her mascaraed lashes as if to say: Is that all you’ve got?
That was it. I shot into her mouth, my pelvis jerking, cock tip jabbing into the back of her throat. Cum spewed out of me, a seemingly never-ending stream that sent me dizzy, had me closing my eyes even though I fought it. I’d wanted to watch her swallow, to grip her hair and tug hard, but all sense left me. Nothing but what she was doing and how it made me feel existed.
Emptied, she’d emptied me, and my cock left her mouth with a soft plop. I opened my eyes to see her shuffling backwards, something that would have looked unfeminine from anyone but Zara. I quickly tucked myself away, then had no desire to do anything but study her as she stood, straightened her skirt and picked up my silver engraved fountain pen.
“This is my mobile number.” She scribbled on an invoice for several hundred thousand pounds. “Next time you get a hard-on, call me. I’m not a mind reader.”
She dropped the pen with a clatter, straightened then made her way to the door.
With her fingers curled around the handle, she said, “See you tonight then.” She swung the door open and stepped out into the hallway, glancing over her shoulder. “Victor Partridge.”
The door closed, shutting off my vision of her, my need to watch her strolling down the hallway, her arse swaying. In confused shock, I stared at my groin. I was aware of a vein still throbbing in my cock. I was sated in a way I hadn’t been before, my mind a muddle of not being able to understand how a woman could make me lose control, make me forget all reason and just go with whatever she had in mind.
What the hell had she done to me?
And, more to the point, what the hell would she do next?
Chapter Five
After leaving Victor’s office, I sashayed down the hallway and past Mary’s desk, giving her a smile that I hoped would soothe her bruised ego. I hadn’t meant to upset her—Heaven forbid she have palpitations caused by me—but I’d woken with the mission to give that man a reminder of the previous night and wouldn’t have let anyone stop me. She pursed her lips in what I could only take to be a disapproving grimace and looked me up and down, a frown appearing when she stilled her gaze on my short skirt. I mentally shrugged off her dissatisfaction with my appearance and smiled wider. She continued to stare as I sauntered towards the door. I felt her watching me leave the reception area, as though her eyes shot out red-hot lasers that bored into my back, but, once out in the fresh, cool air, I forgot all about her.
As I walked along the street, heading for the coffee shop, my phone bleeped, signalling a text message. I smirked, sure it would be Victor, knowing it would be him. I’d hooked many a man in the past and he’d be no different. Digging into my handbag, I found my phone and read the message.
Coffee shop. Now.
Throwing my head back and letting out a peal of laughter, gaining a few odd or startled looks from passersby—and no, I didn’t give a damn—I entered the coffee shop, heading for the counter with such determination in my stride I imagined I appeared demented. Oh, but I was giddy with victory not insanity, with the knowledge that once again I’d wrapped a bloke around my little finger. Hell, my whole hand. I ordered espresso for us both. The young woman behind the counter eyed me curiously, possibly wondering why I wanted two cups. I paid, thanked her, and made my way to the table we’d occupied yesterday.
And waited for him to come in.
He did, a flurry of cold air entering with him, his face flushed and his tie skew-whiff, loosened slightly at the knot. The top button of his shirt being undone gave him a rakish air, and I had to squeeze my legs together to battle off a wave of arousal. He gazed about—funny how he didn’t immediately look to where we’d met—and I chuckled, wondering whether he hadn’t done so because by now he knew I liked to mix things up. He stood just in front of the slowly closing door, appearing lost and so out of his depth that I had a momentary pang of sorrow for him. It vanished the second he caught sight of me and studied me with an expression that said in no uncertain terms he was here to discuss my behaviour. I hid another smirk and adopted a poker face as he weaved between the tables and stood beside ours with seemingly no intention of sitting down. I cocked my head to look at him, widening my eyes a tad then narrowing them. Licked my lips, the taste of cum still on my tongue.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” he said quietly, with an air of menace I wouldn’t have suspected he could adopt.
Not wanting to let him see he’d surprised me, intrigued me, or cowed me, I said loudly, “What, give you a blowjob?”
He blushed, a furious shade of red that I guessed was embarrassment mixed with anger. He clenched his hands into fists and clamped his lips together, clearly fighting an urge to either slap me, admonish me, or stalk out. Instead he sat opposite, drawing his coffee towards him and taking a hefty sip. Wincing at the burn, he recovered his composure and glared at me, fingers twitching around his cup.
“You’re one hell of an infuriating little bitch, Watson,” he said, the raging red of his cheeks fading a bit but his eyes still glinting with frustration.
I ogled him, the gorgeous bastard, and smiled.
He sighed, a dragged-from-the-bottom-of-his-lungs exhalation, and it s
eemed all the fight left him with that burst of air. “What the hell have I done agreeing to this crap?” He shook his head, gaze scouring my face, his confusion evident by the furrowing of his brow and his mouth going slack.
“You’ve agreed to some fun,” I said, “and from where I’m sitting you need some. You’re so uptight. Relax. Live a little.”
“I’m supposed to stay relaxed. I was relaxed until you came along. Now I’m at sixes and bloody sevens, and that really isn’t what I need. What my heart needs.”
Good Lord, had he started getting feelings for me? Now that was something I hadn’t expected. This talk of hearts had me squirming in my seat. If he mentioned love I’d stop the bet and walk away, never to look back.
“Supposed to stay relaxed?” I asked, then sipped some of my coffee.
“Yes, but you’ve gone and blown that right out of the water. You’re bad for my health, Zara. Seriously bad.”
It was something anyone would say, a casual comment, but I got the impression he’d meant it literally. Maybe he had blood pressure problems—stood to reason, what with him running his own business—and me waltzing into his life doing unexpected things had possibly wreaked havoc with his pulse rate. I opened my mouth to pry, to coax a confession out of him, then thought better of it. My imagination was running away with me, that was all.
Instead, I said, “So do some breathing exercises when we’re together. That’ll sort you out.” I’d sounded blasé, but if anything it would help him to calm down further. “I don’t mean to be a health hazard, you know. I can’t control your reactions to me, that’s your job. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll float out of your life as easily as I’d floated into it. One word. Go. Or leave. Or even two words. Piss off. Something like that.”
He smiled then, expelling another breath, and I knew I had him back on side. Any anger he’d been harbouring was dissipating, and in another few seconds he’d be wrapped around my finger again. Tightly.
“I have a feeling,” he said, “that you know I can’t tell you to piss off.”
“Of course I know that.” I smiled again, reaching out to grasp his wrist.
His pulse was a mite fast beneath my fingertips, but as the seconds passed with us staring at one another, it slowed to a steady, acceptable beat. I glanced at his fingers curled around his cup, noting that they didn’t twitch anymore, then returned my attention to his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was well and truly smitten with me, something I’d have to watch during our month together. I had no time for serious relationships, just casual, easy-as-hell liaisons that filled the time pleasantly but gave me no grief. Victor would be treated the same as all the others, cast aside, but I hoped we’d part as friends. There was something about him that had already burrowed inside me. The need to know him after, but not, I swear, for anything other than companionship. A coffee shop or wine bar buddy when we were both at a loose end. Someone to give a blowjob to and for me to receive a cunt lick in return. Nice and off-the-cuff, not strings attached. Strings had a habit of becoming knotted, and a jumbled mess wasn’t on the cards for me. It couldn’t be, ever.
“I ought to hate you,” he said, “but damned if I can. You turned up this morning as though you actually had read my thoughts.”
“Ah, I just hoped you’d be thinking about me this morning, that’s all.”
“Of course I bloody was. You knew I would be. Last night ensured that. And here we are…”
“Yes, and here we are.” I stroked the inside of his wrist. “Much as I’d like to sit and natter, I have to get to work.” Leave them wanting more, that was my motto.
“But I’ve only just got here.” He frowned. “And isn’t that place shut in the day?”
Oh yes, I’d need to watch him. He thought too much.
“Look, if I choose to see you outside of our appointed times,” I said, “then that’s okay. I’m the one in charge of this little trip, I’m the one who decides when and where you become more enlightened to the alternative pleasures of life. You don’t choose the times or the locations. That’s part of the deal. I should have made that clear from the start. So, basically, you wait on me and do as I say when I say it, not the other way around.”
“So you expect me to just drop what I’m doing in the office so you can”—he leant forward—“suck my cock whenever you damn well want?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that. It isn’t possible. I could have clients.”
“Then you’d get rid of them.” I stood, trying hard to hold back laughter.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “This isn’t going to work.” He drank some coffee, stared down at the cup, then pushed it away from him as though it was tainted. “That isn’t decaff, is it? Shit.”
“Beg your pardon for being nice and paying for your coffee. Next time you can get it your bloody self,” I said. “And this is going to work. You’ll make it work. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
I left him sitting there, his mouth wide open, his eyes just as wide. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t afford to. If I had, I might well have felt sorry for him again.
Outside, the bite to the air soon sorted me out, blowing away all thoughts of any empathy I might have given Victor. I settled my mind on my work shift that evening and decided to mix things up a bit. I’d been bored with my usual routine lately, and meeting Victor had given me the boost I needed to try something different. Oh, I’d stick to the basics but fancied adding some little extras. After all, it wouldn’t do to have clients straying because I’d become predictable. There were those, of course, who liked everything the same, but they’d just have to suck it up and accept a new show from me.
I hopped onto a bus, having forgone using my car this morning, and let my mind idle while the double decker took me to my destination. Once again Victor had been positively fuming, yet I’d managed to placate him within a few minutes. I suspected it was the lack of control he couldn’t handle, things being taken out of his hands and put firmly into mine, but if he wanted to be taught new things, he’d have to get used to it. Would want to get used to it, if only to see where I took him, what I showed him. I thought of Lovisa and Halsten then, the sex-crazed Swedes, and it reminded me to check whether they were working this week. It might be fun to push Victor’s boundaries faster than I’d originally intended. Watching him watching them would be a sight and a half.
The bus lurched to a stop. I got off and walked down the alleyway to my work’s front door. I knocked, glanced up at the hidden camera situated above the lintel, and smiled. The door lock snapped, and I pushed inside.
“Hey, Fifi,” I said to our other receptionist, closing the door then going up to the desk.
Fifi gave me a knowing smile; her lips were painted almost black, a stark contrast against her neon red hair. “Heard you brought a virgin in last night, you naughty girl.”
I laughed. “I did, and what a virgin he is.” I sighed dramatically. “Which reminds me, are Lovisa and Halsten on this week?”
Fifi glanced at the rota in front of her. “They are indeed. God, are you bringing your virgin back to watch them? So soon after his first time? I heard you startled the shit out of him with Julie. That is so bad for a newbie. Talk about not easing him in gently.”
“He needs shocking,” I said. “Thinks he knows it all. Well, he did, until he met me.”
“Poor bastard. I don’t envy him. You’re ruthless, anyone ever tell you that?”
I shook my head. “No need. I already know it. I intend to open his eyes. Widely.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve already done that. You’ll give the man a heart attack if you’re not careful. Silver-haired at the temples, so I’m told. You’d better watch his ticker doesn’t give out on you, the amount of shocks you’re giving him.”
I dismissed her words with a wave of my hand. “Oh, behave. He’s fine. And it’s fun, teaching an older dog new tricks. More fun than I thought it would be.”
&nbs
p; And it was fun. I just had to make sure I didn’t get used to it.
Or him.
I said a cheery tarra to Fifi and headed for the dressing room. Along with a change of routine, I thought I might switch my get-up a bit. It was all very well wearing a black PVC all-in-one most days, but I fancied showing a bit of skin before I stripped. Just enough to whet their appetites. A promise of what was to be revealed. I shuffled through the outfits on the rail, discarding some immediately, umming and ahhing over others. What would I want Victor to see me in? He’d already copped an eyeful of me naked, but for men, or so I’d been told, a woman dressed in just the right outfit drove them wilder than an instantaneous show of bare skin.
I spied a sleeve poking out from between a wedge of clothing.
Hmmm. Yes, I believed I’d found the perfect item.
Chapter Six
Fuck it. Two gulps of a caffeinated espresso and my heart behaved like it was on a damn trapeze.
I stared dumbly out of the window at Edgeware Road and tried to steady my breathing. People raced around, unaware of the beating of their hearts, untroubled by vixens who stopped by their place of work to give them impromptu blowjobs, and unscarred by a whipping show they’d witnessed the night before.
Scarred, yes, that was how I felt. Not physically, but the spectacle had definitely left a mark on me. It was a fractured line no one but I could see. A new streak in my brain, my psyche, that was full of what if’s, how, why?
Why?
Curiosity was a funny thing. I’d always been an inquisitive bloke. I liked to know how things worked, the chemical composition of materials, the physics of a structure. But desire, desire for pain, that was a new one on me. I wasn’t sure the science I usually relied upon to quell my thirst for understanding would be any use to me. Who would want pain? It was the body’s alarm system. Most people spent their lives avoiding it.
Why did Julie thrive on it? How the hell could a thrashing make her come? And what did it say about me that it had got me so hard and horny that I’d allowed that witch, Zara Watson, to feed me into her mouth and then make me come with three sharp sucks?
