by Parker Swift
He lifted me off the table and stood before me, waiting. I slid down to my knees before him. He freed himself and stroked his cock a few times as if offering himself up to me. I looked up at him through my lashes and gave him a you-have-no-idea-what’s-coming smile. I put my lips to the tip of him and began to work myself down, licking, lapping my way. I swallowed him, creating suction that made him fist my hair and slide back on his heels. I could hear his breathing getting deeper, feel his arousal growing between my lips.
“Fuck, Lydia!” he uttered between gasping breaths.
I used my hand to cup his balls, stroking the underside gently. I glided him into my mouth, taking him as far back as I could, and then I willed myself to take him just a little farther. Opening wider for him than I ever had for anyone else, I found my rhythm, and he found it with me, gently bucking into my mouth as I took him whole. I tried to soften and relax my throat more with each thrust, allowing him greater purchase.
“Lydia, I’m going to come soon. Ahh…Christ, baby…If you don’t want to swallow…Fuuuck, please swallow,” he said, groaning.
It fueled me. I couldn’t wait to have him spill into me. I increased my pace and flicked the end of him with my tongue, sucking as I took him back in. His hands gripped my hair, and I could feel the tension in his hands. Then he came, wet and hot, and I swallowed fiercely to keep up. When I felt him finally still, I pulled away, licking him clean. I sat back on my feet, and smiled up at him. He backed up and fell onto the couch behind him, leaning his head back as he let the end of his orgasm pulse through him. I rose and climbed on top of him, straddling him so his still hard cock rested against my slick entrance. I could feel the warmth of my own mouth against my flesh, and it felt so raw, so shamelessly wanton.
He looked at me, his arms wrapped around my back, stroking up and down with his fingertips. “That was unbelievable,” he said, twirling my hair in his fingers. We stayed like that for a few moments—his eyes closed, his face appearing so sated. I leaned down and lay against his chest, and he steadied me, held me in place, by wrapping his hands behind my ass.
“You know what I can’t get out of my mind?” he asked.
“Mmm?” I muttered, my own eyes closed, my chin resting on his shoulder.
“You. Outside that party in La Malbaie.”
“When I was babysitting?” I asked incredulously, and I felt him nod in affirmation.
“You had taken off those high heels, and you had those children running, playing, literally hanging off of you. That pink sun was framing you. I never get to see anyone—the women I’m around, especially—be so…unrestrained. Open. Real…You looked absolutely stunning.”
“You’ve lost your mind. I looked like a wild animal,” I said, rising and rolling my eyes.
He stilled my face with his palms, and looking steadily into my eyes, said, “Not to me.”
I smiled, but I had no idea what to say. I held his gaze, and the playfulness crept back into his eyes. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Now.” He smiled.
He stood, bringing me with him, my legs wrapped around his trim waist, and placed me on the conference table in the corner of the room.
“Lean back, Lydia. Ass to the edge.” I did as I was told, and my feet dangled off the edge. “Feet on the table. Show me that beautiful cunt of yours,” he demanded as he put himself away.
I complied, surprised that exposing myself to him so fully in the broad daylight of his office didn’t feel awkward or embarrassing. He made me feel coveted, beautiful.
“Good girl. Now grab the top of the table, above your head, with your hands, and keep them there. Understand?” I nodded and reached my hands up. There was no way I could get a word out now. I was glorious with anticipation, and my limbs were already deliciously unsteady.
I heard the sound of a desk chair wheeling towards me and felt his warm hands settle atop my knees, gliding up my inner thighs, pushing them apart as he moved in closer. My legs shamelessly bent outward, falling even farther. I was spread wide open for him. Using his thumbs, he parted me and laid one kiss where all of my energy was focused.
And with that one kiss, I was falling.
With slow, agonizing touches and gentle feather-light flicks to my clit, he barely touched me. Gasps and pleas for more filled the air, and I knew they must be mine, but didn’t recognize my own voice. I was already lost in him, greedy. I could feel him smile and chuckle against my skin. My pleading moans were louder than I intended, and the reminder that it was Dylan between my legs made me convulse, my hips arching upward.
“Still, baby.” His voice was heavy, breathy, a gruff whisper, and he pinned me back down.
He brought me to the brink over and over, sensing my body tighten against his mouth and retreating just enough to drive me insane, escalating my desperation. I wanted him in me, on me, with me. I want him to stop. To never stop.
Fuck.
My shoulders arched away from the table, and I gripped the table edge for dear life and writhed as the tidal wave arrived. The orgasm worked violently through my body, undulating, pulling me under. I just had to pray that my cries and throaty calls of his name didn’t make it out into the hallway, because I was completely incapable of reining them in.
As my wrecked body finally settled, he gently kissed my raw throbbing pussy before backing away. “You taste so good.” I lay on the table, spread open, my skirt bunched around my waist, and I slowly regained consciousness, becoming aware of the dampness of my skin and how my arms still gripped the table edge. Dylan slid back in his chair, taking in the view. “And you look fucking gorgeous.”
I managed to prop myself up and give him a disapproving look, eyebrow raised. “So, you really only want me for my body, don’t you?”
He leaned over me to help me up. “Your delectable body, your cheekiness, your humor. All of it, damsel.” He stood me up in front of him, and pulled my skirt taut, tucking my blouse back in, and straightening me up. “It’ll have to do, I’m afraid. Put your hair up.”
I leisurely searched my bag for a hair tie as life returned to my limbs. He was right that the last thing we needed was for me to leave his office looking like I’d just had brain-frying orgasms.
“I have a business dinner to go to, so Lloyd will drop you home. You’ll be alright?” he asked as he stroked my cheek and tucked a stray hair behind my ear.
I was being dismissed, and it was a stark reminder of what this was. A glorified, extremely high-quality booty call, but a booty call all the same. I could fight it or I could embrace it. It stung a little, but this was how things were. I nodded.
I would be ok, but I would also be thinking about him nonstop until I saw him again, which reminded me. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I added.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, surprised.
“Hannah has a gown in the show, and I need to be there,” I explained.
“Oh? It’ll be lovely having you there.” He was straightening his tie, slightly distracted.
“Should I act like I don’t know you or something?”
“Just follow my lead. And don’t make plans for after.”
I looked up at him with curiosity. “You have big plans for me?” I asked, smiling.
He walked in my direction and leaned over me, looking seductive and serious. “After the week I’ve had, and after what you just did to me, I’m going to want to sink into you and stay there. You think your pussy is sore now…”
I feigned shock, dropping my jaw and widening my eyes. “Tell me,” I said, “do all the nobility have such a way with words? Or is it reserved only for Marquesses?”
He shook his head and gave a wicked predatory smile. “For that comment, I’m taking Saturday too.”
I shook my head in disapproval and rolled my eyes. “Daphne isn’t going to believe me when I tell her about you.”
He looked instantly panicked. “Lydia,” he said with a thick tone of warning, but I shrugged him off.
�
�Calm down. I won’t tell anyone else. I promise. She’s my best friend. She knows about the kiss in Canada and that we were having dinner the other night. I’ve been dodging her calls. I can’t lie to her—she sees right through me. You two could probably start a club, in fact—people Lydia can’t seem to keep a secret from.”
“I—” He started warily.
“I’ll tell her it’s top secret. Look, I hate to break it to you, but people in the States aren’t that interested in the love lives of aristocratic British architecture prodigies.” I was smiling, ribbing him. “And I don’t think Daphne is going to be calling the Daily Mirror when we get off the phone.” I looked at him imploringly.
He was smiling now. “Fine. But no details. And only Daphne.” He’d caved, and it looked like it killed him to do it. Years of not having to cave for anyone, I suppose. “You are impossible.” He came over and kissed me again, quickly, but firmly, and swatted me on the ass. “Now go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 15
It was two thirty in the afternoon New York time, and Daphne should be free. I had my knees curled up under me, was full of my favorite pasta dish, had a glass of wine, and was ready for a gabfest with my best friend.
She picked up on the second ring. “Finally! Lydia, where have you been? Does London not have cell towers or something?”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry! It’s been crazy busy, and then I get home and flop into bed.”
“Who cares? I’ve got you now, and I want to hear everything,” she said, and I could practically hear her digging in, getting ready for a good long chat.
“Well…I have some news.” She knew exactly to what and to whom I was referring. Daphne shrieked an endless piercing shriek on the other end of the phone.
“You did not! You slept with him? That didn’t take long. Good for you, Lydia. Tell me everything.”
“Well, he’s very…commanding. And he definitely knows what he’s doing. But, seriously, Daphne, I mean. It was so…God, it was just…I can’t even.”
“That good, huh?”
“Yes.” I was grinning goofily, images running through my mind of our night together.
“God, listen to you. Finally! Jesus. I was wondering if you were going to turn out to like being celibate or just give up and sign up to be a nun or something. But this is so much better. You sound totally smitten.”
“I think I am.”
“So you really enjoyed it?” I could hear the concern. She knew that I had had a complicated relationship to sex. She knew I liked Dylan, and she knew the heartbreak potential. I had finally let someone in. Or I was starting to.
“Daphne, it was better than I’d ever imagined. Honestly, I had no idea it could be like that. I mean, good god.”
“Good,” she said through her laughter.
“I wish I could tell my father about him. I mean not all about him, but you know what I mean.”
“Oh, Lydia, I know. You know he’d be happy that you’re having fun, right?” As Daphne spoke, I could picture my father, always cheerful, always curious about my life until the end of his. I knew he regretted that I’d spent my high school and college years looking after him, but I was his daughter. Where else would I have been?
“Yeah, I do, and it helps to think about that. I mean, to be clear, I don’t think it’s going anywhere, but—” I continued, suddenly remembering the most important detail. “Oh! Before I forget, you can’t tell anyone.”
“What? What do you mean? I mean, it’s not like I am going to buy a billboard or something, but why is it a secret? I don’t like that, Lydia.”
“He’s bizarrely skittish about his privacy. You saw. He’s all over the Internet, especially over here. He’s like this man-about-town—he was engaged to Princess Caroline when he was younger!”
“What?!”
“I know—he hasn’t really filled me in on that one, but it sounds like it was some kind of rebellious early-twenties thing, which is funny, because that’s what he probably is to me, but anyway. His picture is in the paper all the time. You know all this. He said that when he has dated in the past the press has gotten in the way, and he doesn’t want this to be public. So we’re just keeping it private and casual. Also, I mean, we’ve only seen each other a couple of times. Who knows how long it will last, right? He’s pretty clear that he’s not in the market for a girlfriend.”
“Hmm. I don’t know, Lydia. This doesn’t sound good. Are you sure you’re cool with this? You deserve someone who will shout it from the rooftops: ‘I banged Lydia Bell, and she blew me, then blew me away, and I want to love her for eternity!’”
I laughed out loud, both because I loved Daphne’s ability to perfectly articulate her love for me, but also because the idea of Dylan shouting anything of the sort was ridiculous to me.
“I know. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at all, but I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. I know in my gut that he doesn’t want to hurt me. When I’m with him, there’s nowhere else I want to be. I feel really safe with him—is that weird? But also like I’m actually living my life. This is the first time since my dad died that I’ve felt anything other than numb, ya know? And I’m just so goddamn attracted to him.” Images from his office were flying through my mind, and I could feel my skin tighten instantly.
“That sounds amazing—”
“Right.” I cut her off, trying to get my mind out of the gutter. I was fully in my stream-of-consciousness mode. “But then when I’m not with him, I wonder if I’m crazy. I know I am thinking about him in ways you’re not supposed to think about the man you’re just casually sleeping with. Is this the dumbest thing I’ve ever gotten myself into? This is going to end, and I’m going to be completely, utterly screwed, aren’t I?”
“Um,” Daphne started, clearly overwhelmed by my rant. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lydia.”
I grunted. “Why? You know me better than anyone. You’re always right about these things. Tell me what to do!”
“Listen, for years I’ve been hoping you’d dive into something, have someone sweep you off your feet, open yourself up to actually being with someone. But this sounds so intense. And I’m not going to lie—I don’t like the sound of this whole ‘casual only’ thing. I swear to god, if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
“He probably has bodyguards. Daphne, you should see his house—it’s like an Architectural Digest mansion in a neighborhood where a studio apartment costs two million pounds.”
“Lydia, look. You can’t get your mind off of him, right?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well there’s your answer. You’ll just have to see what happens. It sounds like the sex is incredible, and if anyone deserves that it’s you. So enjoy. You have my blessing. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I could be utterly destroyed and ruined for any future love with anyone else,” I stated.
“Exactly.”
“You’re infuriating,” I protested, and she laughed.
“I agree that you need to be careful and protect yourself. This is your first time out of the gate, and I don’t want you getting crushed by this, either. But, Lydia, you need to remember: You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
“Did you just quote a fortune cookie?”
“A refrigerator magnet. I’m at my mom’s.” Only Daphne could have me laughing this hard while in a relationship crisis.
“But, Lydia,” she continued, fighting off a fit of laughter herself, “in all seriousness. You sound good. I mean, frantic and a little crazy, but also better than I’ve heard you in a long time.”
Apparently I needed Daphne even more than I realized. I proceeded to tell her all about the job, and the friends at work. She caught me up on school and our Brooklyn friends. I missed her terribly, and now that I’d told Daphne about Dylan, it was like it had really happened. It felt real.
“Before we go, I have to tell you something.�
�� Daphne sounded serious all of a sudden.
“Ok. Everything alright?”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s just that Matt and I broke up.” I could tell she was nervous about telling me.
“Oh god, Daphne, I’m sorry. What happened? And why didn’t you text me? I would have called earlier—I’m so sorry.” I felt like a complete asshole for having taken up the entirety of our conversation with my dumb sex talk.
“You know, it was just done. He asked me to move in with him, and—”
“That doesn’t exactly sound like a precursor to a breakup,” I interrupted.
“Yeah, but I didn’t even need to think about it,” she continued. “My answer was no right off the bat. Matt’s great, and in so many ways we’re good together, but even after two years I still felt like we were two separate people just meeting up for dinner. Good dinner and good sex, actually, but I don’t know how to explain it—we just weren’t intertwined or interconnected the way I always expected to be with someone I moved in with. It’s like, I could imagine life without him, and that seemed like a bad sign. Does this all make sense?”
“I think so,” I replied, but really, what did I know? “How did he take it?”
“Surprisingly well, which was a kind of confirmation itself. He admitted that he thought that living together might get us there, but I just don’t believe that. Anyway, it was very civil and friendly. Nothing dramatic.”
“Right, ok then. Well, you sound very adult about all this. And I suppose this will free you up to come visit?”
“Obviously! I have to meet your fancy sexy famous architect.”
“We’ll see. Who knows where that’s headed?” I said it like I meant it, but the truth was I was beginning to have a hard time imagining my future without him. “But you’re really ok?”
“I really am.”
“I believe you,” I said. “And, I love you, Daph. I really miss you!”
