Holding My Breath

‘I don’t believe you’ve never done that before,’ he said. They were eye-to-eye, and there was no hiding that quirk of a smile now. ‘I did, until you started to giggle while I was really giving it to you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such happy sounds before.’

‘I did not giggle,’ she said, but she couldn’t be too sure. When those hot smacks were splatting all over her cheeks, her head had been a big fizzy ball. He could have recited ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’ the whole time and she wouldn’t have had a clue.

‘You are very giggly.’ He spoke softer now while he pushed his fingers into the swell of her hips. ‘I don’t hear laughter like that enough.’

‘I don’t laugh often,’ she whispered, running her hands up to his neck. Her cheeks continued to burn as she focused on unbuttoning him down to the naval. Once she revealed that chest speckled with ginger hairs, she mustered up her confidence to meet his gaze.

She doubted he had looked away from her face the entire time she was undressing him. He seemed lost.

In her? No, he was surely just reading her again.

‘Did you like it?’ she asked as she slipped her fingers beneath his collar. ‘Or did you do it because you knew I’d like it?’

He pushed up enough for her to feel the hard bulge. ‘I liked it.’

Still too sensitive, she rose up on her knees and found she enjoyed looking down on him. With his head tilted back and his neck exposed, he seemed vulnerable and younger than his years.

‘Though “liked” is the wrong word. It’s past tense, and I’m just getting started. I’m just giving you a bit of a breather.’

With that, he gave her another smack. Molly yelped and pushed, and with a surprised oomph he went on his back.

She didn’t try to hide her grin now. ‘Now who has the upper ha– Ouch!’

This slap she returned with one of her own, a warning tap on his cheek. For a moment there was something animalistic in his expression. It touched her in some primal place so deep and dormant she hadn’t realised it was there. Suddenly ravenous, she leaned over him and pressed her forehead to his.

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, and took his mouth before he could speak.

Lips and tongues collided, chaotic at first, but once he had cupped her head firmly in his hands his silken tongue took possession. Then the firm hands stroked down, raising gooseflesh on her shoulders as he went for the thin straps.

He fucked her mouth, twisting his head back and forth while his tongue bullied hers to remain compliant. Each time she tried to overtake him she failed, and she became more disoriented as he loosened the flimsy straps.

Once he had succeeded in dragging the front of her bodice down, he released her and turned ferocious. Molly gasped as he grasped her arse in two handfuls, but the pain had dulled. He ordered her body up over his and closed his lips around her nipple.

The tight pinch of his teeth offered only a brief release from the ache his suckling mouth invoked.

‘Again,’ she whimpered, driven to insanity by her need for some sort of gratification. ‘Spank me again.’

Laughter sputtered wet on her breast and he dropped his head back for a moment. ‘If you want some of the rough stuff, I can give it to you. I know from experience how thick these walls are.’

He ran his hand over her ass as he took her nipple into his mouth once more. Anticipation ran toxic in her veins. She lifted her ass, but only got the lightest of taps in return.

‘Do it,’ she urged in a hiss, and pushed up out of his mouth’s wet grasp. ‘Just three. Give me just three hard ones.’

He raised his brows slightly, unaffected by the way she was turning into some starved feline thing on top of him. He gave not even a blink as she ground against his groin, no doubt leaving a stain on those expensive trousers.

‘Tell you what,’ he said slyly. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you one good crack on the ass if you let me do something really dirty to you.’

‘I want three,’ she demanded. ‘Just three and you can do whatever you want with me.’

‘Even …’

He drummed his fingers down her ass, down between her pussy lips, then drew the moisture upward.

‘Yes?’ he asked as the tip of his finger met his mark. ‘No?’

She let him find out for himself, arching in invitation he smeared her juices around the tight opening.

‘Yes,’ he whispered, and his hand fell away. ‘Get up. Get on your knees. Get your ass up again.’

She dismounted and scuttled into position while he bounced on his behind to the edge of the bed.

‘Good girl – ass up.’

She twisted her head to one side. He stood at her hip, hands on his waist: a rumpled, wrinkled picture of masculinity.

‘I can say it in a different tone, if it helps.’

‘You’re lucky I’m so obliging, otherwise you’d get another smack on the mouth.’

‘You’re lucky I’m not easily bored by empty threats. Otherwise I’d put you on your knees and fuck your mouth again.’

The excitement that ran through her wasn’t sparked by the authority of what he said, but by the playfulness behind it. She already liked the words; now she was growing fond of the tune.

He sauntered out of view, and the bed sagged as he knelt behind her. Those adept fingers spread open the mouth of her sex.

‘What a lovely mess I’ve made,’ he said, strumming his finger through the dripping folds. ‘Look over there, next to the bed. You missed it when you first came in, you were so wound up in showing off. What do you think it is? Oh, Molly, the possibilities …’

True, she had missed the little black bag when she first came into the room. It was the type you got at posh boutiques that folded skimpy lingerie in tissue paper.

But what was inside didn’t come from Victoria’s Secret. He’d spelled it out for her, and the erratic wave in her head broadcast those filthy possibilities.

‘Do you do this for all of your –’ clients? employers? ‘– friends?’

‘My friends have to bring their own playthings. For you, well, I suppose I could have brought flowers, but if I want to woo a woman who can suck a cock like you can, I have to do better than roses.’

Molly curled her fingers into her palm and smiled into the bedding. It was such a crass thing to say, especially since he was avidly fingering her wet gash, but beneath it all was such sweet sentiment.

‘I like you, too,’ she murmured, and whimpered as the tip of his tongue unravelled her.

Lick after lick fattened her clit while he rubbed her inside, creating a perfect storm. She could have entertained that beautiful tongue between her legs until she just melted into the mattress, but this was only a warm-up before he retreated. He appeared a moment later next to his bag of tricks.

‘You can say no to anything,’ he told her as he reached into the bag.

‘I trust you,’ she whispered, and marvelled that she truly meant it.

Here was a man who took money in exchange for things she only fantasised about, and here he was, in his words, wooing her. Because he liked her.

‘Like’ was such a frank emotion, but it was the one that reached the deepest. In her whole life, the word ‘love’ had been bandied about when convenient – ex-boyfriends and an ex-husband had used them with varying degrees of honesty, but ‘like’ held so much more.