The Gentleman Has Left the Building

by Lucy V. Morgan

  I had never been harder than I was at that moment, and my cock twitched as she arched one eyebrow.

  “No swallowing," she purred, "in the interests of health and safety, of course.”

  I feigned a pout at that one. The last button popped; she worked the shirt off my shoulders and stroked my muscles with wide eyes. (Kick-boxing, my friends. It‘s good for more than a drunken game of Mortal Kombat).

  “And the last one?” I croaked.

  She took my upper lip and sucked it, teasing my tongue with hers. “No anal…unless he’s there to supervise.”

  That was it. Fuck this. The gentleman has left the building.

  I pawed her dress off and cursed at her bra strap while she laughed. Her knickers were soft and satiny, black, and I dropped on my knees to press my face into them. Fuck…she smelled good. Hot, wet. I suckled at her lips through the fabric.

  Somehow, we backed on to the bed and she was splayed beneath me, all pooled red ringlets and pearl-nippled peaks. I pinned her hands above her head--which went down well, judging by her whimpers--and did my best not to mark her lush breasts, but fuck me, it was hard.

  I remember that after a while with my ex, that sex had become mechanical. Even in the early days, she was too self-conscious to submit like this and accept my attention freely. I had tried to warm her. Break the walls down. I never got to that place where you’re grinding each other into the debris, but now…Leila broke when I kissed her, I’m sure of it. Maybe even a little before. I was the one doing the seducing here…and I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten so confident, but woah. She likes it when you tell her what to do. I hadn’t even needed to say these things out loud.

  With her fingers in my hair, I eased her knickers down and dropped her heels on the carpet. She was naked except for the lace-topped hold-ups, and her thighs tapered towards a shaved, creamy mound.

  “Rhys…” She moaned, writhed on the bed. “Look what you’ve done to me.” Her thighs spread slowly.

  Breathe, breathe. Don’t choke on the air. Breathe!

  “I’m all swollen for you…”

  Oh, she was. Her clit peeked plumply between her fingers and the mouth of her pussy was poppies and gloss.

  “Gorgeous,” I mumbled. Her stocking caught on my nails but my hand joined hers eventually, thumbing her wet pink bud. “I think…I need to eat you all up…”

  “Ow. Please.”

  I learned the rhythm of her hips quickly. Driving lessons. She bucked and squealed when I licked beneath her clit hood, her breathy yelps reserved for my thumb. When she begged me, I curved two fingers into the clutch of her pussy and slowly, slowly dragged. There was the pornographic giggle again; it was euphoric as it spilled from her, like a mockery of a prayer. The gospel of Leila.

  Amen to that, fuckers.

  Her thrusts slowed as she got close. I only noticed because she was suddenly sopping wet and it pooled inside at the bend of my knuckles. I flexed once, twice, three times…that set her off. Her clit mashed against my tongue and I barely avoided knocking my teeth out.

  This was something else I’d been denied--not just in enforced celibacy, but with the ex. The moment where a woman stiffens, heaves as if the air is weighted down, wraps her thighs round your head and--

  “Rhys, ow…d-don’t stop, please…ow…!”

  That. Ahh.

  She fed my confidence. I feasted on hers. Yummy little madam. She tasted like the dirty cocktails that gave me the same kind of arrogance on a Friday night at uni, and as I moved up to kiss her, we savoured it together. She panted into my mouth.

  I grinned. “I want you on my lap.”

  “Oh…you do…?” She smiled as well. Flushed and breathy.

  “Uhuh.” I jumped back to undress and then tasted panic beneath her scrutiny. I’d forgotten about this bit, too: the part where you show a girl your cock for the first time and watch for scowls and winces. Then I had shoes to kick off, a condom to locate--

  “In the drawer,” she said, gesturing. “Take your pick.”

  “Oh. Cheers.” I snatched a packet without looking and rolled it on with a snap which should have hurt.

  If it did, I didn’t notice.

  Leila heaped pillows behind me and lowered herself between my crossed legs. She ringed her fingers round my cock, testing the girth of it and sending shivers of white-hot pleasure through my groin. A tiny, focused furrow of the brow sounded her silent approval.

  “Don’t tease me,” I mumbled. “Just…”

  “Fuck you?” Her hands moved to my shoulders and she bumped her clit against my cock, whimpering as it bobbed heavily. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.” Or I wouldn't be responsible for the consequences.

  She pressed herself down on me, swallowing just the head. God, it was hot in there. Sticky.

  “How about I fuck you?” I said, staring up at her. We exchanged the kind of knowing glances that made our eyes glaze; I wasn't really asking her a question.

  Now she took the rest, inch…by…in…ch…until I filled her. I know I did--the stretch was blissfully constricting.

  And she thought she was going to make me do all the work.

  I shoved her hips down, grinned at the way her eyes shot open, and began a measured, punishing fuck. She couldn’t stay still for long. I kept hitting her cervix and the discomfort made her suck the air in. Normally, I’d have slowed for that. Checked on her. But that was the thing; she liked it. Her longest whimpers and loudest moans came from the strokes that were harder than I meant them-- every time I lost control, she was delighted. Before long, we were kissing again and she was rolling right into my thrusts.

  If the driving lessons taught me anything, it was how to tease her pussy. How to listen for the tick-tock time elapse in her breath and know just when to ram it home. Truth be told, I’d put her in this position because it was the only way I’d last long enough to get her on to her back. But oh, making myself wait...it was worth it. The most intense pleasure, I see, is found on the razored edge of restraint.

  She moaned in surprise when I tossed her over. Her hair splattered the pillows like scarlet graffiti and then she was mine again, stocking-clad legs on my shoulders and her ambushed little pussy struggling to grip my cock.

  “Rhys, Rhys--” The word pierced the air.

  She liked saying my name. Hell, I liked the sound of it coming from her. Leila wanted to moan a name that was new and unfamiliar; I saw it start in her eyes, stutter from her lips and echo above her breasts in crimson mirages. I just loved her loving it--even if the reason was that.

  When I was sure she was coming (again. I'm awesome), I let go. Scissored into her like I owned her flesh, even just for a second. The orgasm started in my thighs and shot through the rest of me, spurting into her, and the relief of it made me cuss loudly. When I shuddered to the end and shook on my arms above her, she wore a lazy, smudgy smile.

  “Are you all right?” She stared.

  “Yes. Yeah. God, yeah.” I bent to catch her mouth. Mmmph. Post-orgasm kissing…I might have missed that most of all.

  Reluctantly, I eased out of her and laid her legs back on the bed. She curled against my chest, her fingers swirling over my nipples.

  Dear room: any time you’d like to stop spinning, it‘d be useful. Okay?

  “That was delicious,” she murmured.

  “It was fucking incredible.” My words were so cracked that we both burst out laughing, and it didn’t slow until I filled my hands with her ass cheeks, scooping her drenched pussy on to my thigh.

  “You’re very…enthusiastic…”

  “And you’re gorgeous.” I inhaled her; still cinnamon-sweet, faint undercurrent of heat and come. “Did I mention that?”

  “Once or twice, but I‘ll let you off.” The heel of her hand worked steadily against the muscles of my belly, easing the knots. “You’re not bad yourself, you know.”

  “Really?”

  She grinned. “Why do I think I brought you back here?” She g
rinned.

  “Fortune cookie told you to?"

  “You’re handsome, Rhys. There was something about you, I…” She pinched my hip in a soft little dance. “Something bubbling under the surface.”

  “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” I caught her hand, held it up to the light. Swivelled the heavy emerald back to its correct position.

  “You don’t like that, do you?” she whispered.

  “It’s nice enough. I’m not much for jewellery.”

  “You know what I mean. It bothers you.”

  I swallowed; this wasn’t really a subject I wanted to indulge her in, not in the afterglow of such an amazing session.

  But she did ask.

  The words are heavy, grating. “My girlfriend--ex girlfriend--cheated on me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” She came up on one elbow and brushed the hair from my eyes. “That must have been tough.”

  “Well. I suppose...I suppose I don’t understand how anyone can be okay with…” I felt like such a hypocrite after the way I got off on her saying my name.

  “With sharing?”

  “Yeah.” I wound a ringlet of her hair around my finger. It was smooth and bouncy. Undeniably feminine.

  “See, there’s the thing. What I do, that’s sharing. What your girlfriend did…that was betrayal. You can’t share what you’ve promised elsewhere; it’s not in your hands to give.”

  “You make it sound awfully simple.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Oh, learning was messy. Trust me there.”

  “I like your mess.” I said the last word against her tongue as she kissed me. Giggled on me.

  “I bet yours is just as yummy.”

  “Plenty more where that came from, darling.” I really just said that, didn’t I? Buggery.

  She started up and I pounced, tugging her back beneath the sheet.

  “I’m just going to get drinks,” she protested. “I don’t know about you, but I need one.”

  “I’ll get them,” I said, reaching for my trousers. “You stay here and keep the bed warm--you look too good in it to get up.”

  “Well, I won’t argue with that.” She fell on the pillows in a mock starfish. “Second door on the left, okay? Just help yourself to the fridge.”

  I zipped my fly up. “What d’you want?”

  “Water’s good.”

  “Okay.” I knelt for a kiss to punctuate my exit. “Back in two.”

  A few seconds before I got the door open, I noticed that the light was on. The living space was huge -- all lofty ceilings, polished units, white sofas. The big fridge in the corner was one Harper and I had coveted before we settled on our uber-trendy Smeg. And--

  He cleared his throat. He cleared his throat. There was a blond, older man on the far sofa, the kind of icy Nordic bastard who could freeze you with a glare. He eyed me watchfully, his head cocked as he surveyed the stranger in his lair.

  Because it did suddenly feel like a lair. One that belonged to him.

  “Good night?” he said.

  “Great,” I croaked.

  “I should think so.”

  The bastard was trying not to smile at me. I couldn’t fathom it. He should've been taking me down with a swift right hook. Hell, I wanted to punch him. What do you say to a bloke when you’ve just fucked his fiancée with his blessing? Where was this bit on my sexy party etiquette Google search...?

  “You’re a lucky man,” I managed.

  He gave a swift nod. “So are you, by the sounds of it.”

  “Um…thanks.”

  “Ah.” Leila appeared behind me in a cloud of tousled hair. My shirt was buttoned haphazardly over her bare breasts and silky knickers. “I thought I heard two of you.” She padded over to greet the man with a kiss. “Rhys, this is Joseph. Joseph, Rhys--he was my present from Aidan.”

  They looked disgustingly good together. He had at least ten years on her, though it was only visible in the shadows; he was broader and taller, sharper. Their combined confidence was startling and I was nauseous again as he patted her backside. Mine, said little whomp of flesh.

  “You can sit down, you know.” Leila smiled on her way to the fridge. “It’s okay.”

  “Uh, I’m good.” I perched on the arm of a chair, still not knowing where it was safe to look. Definitely not at the Goblin King over there, that was for sure. I’d never been so grateful for a cold beer and I swallowed most of it in three long gulps.

  “It was Rhys’s first party tonight.” She stood beside me, her knees nudging mine.

  Joseph gave a dry little laugh. “You’re braver than me.”

  “It was all right, actually." I said. Leila was practically rubbing against me and I wrapped an arm round her waist with my pulse hammering in my ears. “I had some lovely company.”

  She eased the bottle from my hand, dropped it to the floor and then straddled my thigh. Her knickers were still damp--even through my trousers, it was obvious--but I couldn’t quite get into the kiss, not with him watching. I’d gone from predator to prey in about ten minutes.

  “Rhys…do you want to…?”

  She was shoving me gently, wanted us to fall back on the sofa together.

  “I--” Oh fuck. Now she stroked my semi-erect cock.

  “We could…I mean, he’s here to supervise, so…” She brought my hand round to rest on her ass cheek and I nearly bit her tongue off.

  Now you’re probably thinking: dude. This is your first (and possibly only) opportunity for anal. What are you doing? Swing her over the couch and get on in there. Even I was thinking this.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  She softened in my arms, cupped my chin. “It’s okay.” She trailed down my neck and my eyes closed instinctively; if we couldn’t be alone, I was built to emulate it.

  “I should go.” I stood against her, willing my cock to deflate. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

  Leila nodded, handing the bottle back. “If you’re sure.”

  “Oh, I’m…just need to get dressed.” I cocked my head towards the bedroom and she tugged on the shirt she was wearing.

  “You’ll be needing this, then. Sorry.”

  Joseph was suddenly behind her, his fingers working the few buttons she’d bothered to secure. Then he slid out of his fine-knit sweater as he passed me my shirt. My gaze darted to her full, naked breasts and then rolled to the toned chest behind her…and that was when I noticed the marks on their skin. It had been too dark to see in the bedroom, but Leila had a J carved in pale pink, just above the line of her knickers. Joseph had an L in the same style that curved about his hip-bone. They weren’t tattoos--I was sure of that.

  They were quite possibly scars.

  Then Leila slipped into the sweater and huddled against Joseph. They both studied me with curious expressions.

  “So I’ll get my clothes. Yeah.” If I’d have walked any faster, I’d have skidded into a pot plant and landed flat on my face.

  I took my time getting dressed. Paused to call a cab to the lobby. The afterglow of sex had faded but I was still jittery, pulse hammering in my ears. I’d been preparing myself mentally for tonight--mostly to get rejected--and while I’d gone through a hundred wank-worthy fantasies, none of them had been anything like this.

  None so close to the bone (or the boner, for that matter).

  Now to make my exit. To make it out alive.

  Suited and booted, I strode out and offered a sitting Joseph my hand. He pumped it firmly. If he was surprised at my surge of confidence then he didn’t show it.

  “It was good to meet you,” I said. “Thanks for…well.”

  His eyes flashed in amusement. “A pleasure.”

  Leila knotted her fingers in mine as she led me out to the door. When I’d shuffled into my jacket, I gave her the parting kiss she deserved: slow, deep and affectionate. Her little gasps and sighs were jarring; they made me realise that she’d never felt borrowed.

  “You,” Leila murmured, “made my Tuesday, Mr
Rhys.”

  You made my last six months, you gorgeous creature. Not that I could say that out loud.

  “I had a great time. Thank you.” One last kiss, then I released her. There should have been a beat of discomfort before one of us broke and asked for a phone number or an email address. But that wasn’t what tonight had been about, and it was kind of refreshing. Not as cheap as I’d expected it to feel.

  The lobby was all cold leather seats and flashing lights against glass windows. The silver-haired doorman cast suggestive glances in my direction; I avoided his eyes. (I’d have whistled, but it seemed cliché). As I climbed into the cab, my phone buzzed and I cracked open the text.

  AIDAN: So r u ready 4 Nicole yet?

  Shadows rolled through the windscreen to swallow me. They bounced right off my chest. My own mouth tasted different in the wake of a foreign tongue.

  Euphoria claimed me, made my tapping fingers shake. I felt drunk and empowered and blissful, but starkly sober at the same time.

  RHYS: Dude.

  I'm ready for anything.

  THE END

  Author's Note

  Thank you for taking the time to read Rhys's story.

  A lot of the characters in this book feature in companion novels; you can find Leila and Joseph in Breaking Leila and Breaking Joseph, along with Aidan. He's also in my newest novel, Tainted Touch (and you can read chapter one of that book at the end of this one). Bailey, Rhys's sister, can be found in Beautiful Mess.

  This particular short story is brought to you by Indian Summer cider. And a warm Easter evening. And scones.

  Turn over to read CHAPTER ONE of Lucy's newest novel, TAINTED TOUCH

  Twenty-year-old Caitlyn McCoe likes logic, cake and breaking a sweat. In that order. What she doesn't like is the fact that her manipulative ex, Dominic, has crawled out of the woodwork after their breakup last summer. She needs to concentrate on passing her business degree, not telling him to get lost. But fantasising about Fist Candy--the boxer she loves to watch at the gym, where she works--is excellent escapism. He's beautiful, untouchable...and safe.