by Celia Crown
The softness alleviates the pressure of my weight, but it is nothing compared to the tension that rolls off the man’s shoulders.
This is not about me; this is about Reese.
I try to wrap my head around it. He is my client, and I am helping him.
The reasoning is easy to piece together: alleviate his stress with scientifically proven methods, and it will help him win the championship match. Plus, it will reduce the chances of hurting his pride and his reputation.
If he wins.
No, I think to myself, Reese will not lose.
I believe in him; I believe in him in a way that comes from my heart. He is not just a client to me, he’s more than anything else I can think of.
“Ezra,” he breathes quietly, “What’re—”
“Please,” I mumble with a quivering smile, “Let me help you.”
My hand fumbled with the waistband of his pants, and the heat from his rippling muscles burn my knuckles as I gaze up at him.
There is embarrassment coursing through my cheeks, but I remind myself that this is not about me. I want to help Reese, even if it means I will have to step out of my comfort zone.
Reese lays a hand on one of mine, a gesture of pure dominance as his imposing silence stops my shaky fingers.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he says. “Something is bothering you; I can see it on your face. But don’t ever think you have to do this to achieve a stellar job performance.”
He mistook my intentions. He is so kind and considerate, thinking I am doing this for the sake of my job.
It is not.
“I want to do this for you,” I amend quietly. “Right now, I don’t care about my job or what will happen if my boss finds out. I just want to help you.”
He squeezes my hand as the tent in his pants twitches aggressively. I bite my lip and peer at him shyly, a flush of shame rumbling in my stomach as the confidence in my actions slowly diminishes.
“May I?” I ask tentatively.
“Do you do this for all your clients?” he questions.
I can’t read the emotion behind the glaringly bright ambers.
I shake my head fervently. “No, I don’t like my clients touching me.”
He stares, and the gaze bores into my eyes, stealing my breath and snatching my inner thoughts with a mere hum. The hand on mine squeezes tighter, and my fingers scrunch together until the discomfort becomes too much.
I do not make a sound.
I swallow the heartbeat in my throat and pray that he believes me.
I have made it clear to prior clients that I don’t like to be touched. It’s one of my pet peeves that triggers my need to use violence and remove that discomfort.
My boss knows this, and everyone who works with me knows it too. They respect the boundary I have set.
I reiterate out of a need to be more convincing, “No one ever touched me.”
The tremor in my voice has nothing to do with fear.
Reese finds it amusing to see me break out of the cool façade I always maintain. It’s a face that is useful, and I didn’t realize how much I rely on it until he broke through it. Now, I must look like a fool.
“So pretty,” he whispers suddenly.
I blush as his purring shoots down to the wetness seeping through my panties. He cradles my cheek and rubs the erratic pulse that chirps noisily in my ears as it copies the tremors in my hands.
“You can do whatever you want,” he says softly. “I’m yours.”
Nodding vigorously, I accept the dangerous possessiveness moving in his eyes.
He releases me in a gesture of freedom. By then, my confidence has shrunken to nothing as I drop my gaze to the tent in his pants.
It is not fear that runs through me; it is inexperience that forces me into self-consciousness.
I have no idea what to do, and I should have led with that instead of acting like I have this under control.
I ease the twitch in the base of my neck and breathe deeply. Using common sense and what I have heard from coworkers, I have some idea of how to turn this around.
If it does not work out, I am going to die of embarrassment.
I pull his pants down, my clumsy hand snagging the band of his boxer-briefs as the swollen cock jumps out. It is hard and dripping with cum at the tip, a prominent vein running along the thick shaft.
I see it twitch, mocking my anxiety.
Spellbound and breathless, I can only stare at his cock. While it is unnervingly big, I should have expected that in a gargantuan man.
He hisses as my tongue meets the bead of cum, licking the taste while grazing the sensitive tip in a thoughtless motion. It comes to me naturally, and I follow my instincts as he whispers praise under his breath.
“Good girl,” he purrs.
I have not built up the nerve to take him into my mouth; his size is preventing me from trying. I run my wet tongue over the pulsating vein and wrap my small hand around the base.
As if I were not intimidated before, it hits differently when my fingers will not work.
“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs as he runs a hand to the back of my head. Gathering a handful of my messy hair, he encourages my lips to hover over the leaking tip.
“I’ll help you,” he suggests but does not give me a chance to voice my fears when he pushes the back of my head down.
It is not forceful, but his grip is not asking for my permission either.
He wants me to swallow his cock, to take him into the back of my throat and moan so wantonly that my drool pools at the base of his cock.
I gather that from the twisted gleam of amber in his eyes.
He does not have to voice it, but he is not hiding it either.
“Okay,” I breathe out with a hiccup.
I open my mouth and relax my jaw, the red tip lying heavily on my tongue as I instinctively curl around him. He guides me with a tiny push as my lips form around the pulsing shaft. A line of burning fire carelessly dances around the curve of my jaw as he feeds my slick mouth with his fat cock.
The burning is sacred as I greedily press him deeper into my mouth. It is my first time having something so big in my mouth that the discomfort turns into a thrilling coil of pleasure in my pussy.
“Slowly,” he reminds as he holds my hair to allow me to breathe.
The next breath I take will not be available any time soon when the tip nudges my throat, tears springing into the corners of my eyes as I power through the stretch.
“That’s very good,” Reese growls powerfully in his chest, the sound vibrating into my body.
The flushed, sweltering expanse of his thigh tenses when I lay a hand there for support. Reese hums a tune with a deep moan, encouraging me when I know he feels good.
I bob my head with shame on my cheeks. The warmth begins to catch a different heat on my tongue as I slither back to the vein I had abandoned in favor of feeling him in my throat.
I don’t know which one I like better.
Moving off his cock, a string of saliva coats my bottom lip. The thinness of the breakage reminds me of fine silk as it slowly adheres to the glistening shaft.
It throbs and twitches relentlessly in my hand. Reese presses his thumb onto my bottom lip, smearing the taste of his cum onto my tongue. It is a hazy sensation until he uses my hair again, maneuvering my mouth over his swollen cock.
“Be a good girl for me,” he croons through a growl.
I want to be good for him.
The thought of disappointing him is sickening; I never want it to come true.
My breathing is stilted when I anticipate the strong pulse of his cock as I wrap my lips around him. The wetness of my mouth adds friction with his cum as I suck messily. He seems to like it when I slurp on his shaft mindlessly.
There is no order, no skill, and certainly no pattern. It is just a blank canvas in my mind, and the primal instinct is to satisfy him.
Somewhere above me, his voice grumbles loudly
with a rushed exhale of my name. I am not distracted from swallowing his cock; the length and taste of him are too addicting.
“Fuck—” he snarls heavily, “Fuck, good girl, you’re such a good girl for me.”
It is a chanting mantra of praise that breaks the obstacle of my doubt. I slacken my jaw more and take him down my throat until every inch of his big cock is stimulated.
A vague thought occurs to me as the thickness of him becomes unbearable. His cock has grown larger and forces a wince from me.
Reese is merciless when his release hits; his curse echoes straight down to my soiled pussy as I grind promiscuously to ease the pressure in my clit.
Thick ropes of cum pour down my throat as tears topple over my lashes. Air becomes sacred, and my lungs protest weakly as my heart lurches; viscous cum sliding through the unobstructed airway.
His hand lets up the pressure on the back of my head, and I jerk up with a gasp. My lungs expand greedily as I shudder through the process. He soothes the hot tears on my cheek with a simple flick of his thumb.
“D-did I do good?” I rasp out.
He tilts my head up and smiles, but the vile gleam of ambers singes my galloping heart.
“Very good,” he whispers lovingly.
The ache between my legs comes back to my consciousness with a shockingly potent impact. I sit on my legs and squirm with red cheeks and leakage through my pants.
I look down, and his cock is still hard, thick, and demanding attention with a web of white cum smeared on his angrily red shaft. Traces of cum still dribble down from the head and trickle towards the base.
“Do you need me to take care of you?” he asks with a voice of teasing amusement at my squirming.
I shake my head. “N-no.”
I want to, I want him to take care of me, but the thought of him seeing my soaked pussy makes that thought go out the window.
I have never experienced this. It is scary, and I am not sure how to react to this excruciating lust.
“No?” He inclines his head and strokes my chin innocently. “You were such a good girl; I want to give you a reward.”
I will not pretend to oppose the idea because it is exactly what I want. I just don’t think this is a good time because my original plan was to help release the tension in his body.
“Stay,” he offers with a smile. “You’ll have the whole night to ask for your reward.”
Chapter Eight
Reese
We leave the facility the next morning.
The coach wants me to use some of the free time between training sessions to study the main plan for the match. Not only will we go over that plan, but he wants to make a backup plan too.
If all else fails, I can fall back on my instincts and let my body take over.
Ezra does not live near me; in fact, her home is in another city. I get breathless when the thought of never meeting her crosses my mind. Without the coach’s help, we would never have crossed paths.
I offer to let her stay with me while the coach gets a hotel room. She agrees with the reasoning that she needs access to me, and her father is none the wiser about what happened last night.
She was red in the face when she woke up in my arms, but I was more impressed with the fact I had slept so well. I was looking forward to having her in my arms from then on when she darted into the bathroom to wash up.
Ezra still can’t meet my eyes, and I think it’s the most adorable thing I have seen.
“Don’t forget that Stein has experience in street fighting, so be prepared for him to use dirty tricks that fool the referee.” The coach taps on the whiteboard with his messily drawn-up plan.
Ezra gives us privacy and space to clear my head by standing outside. The only place I would accept was the Presidential Suite that came with a balcony. I need my space and hate having neighbors; they are nosy and desperate to meet me, shoving things in my face for autographs.
Tomorrow is the big fight, and my skin feels too hot. I am not comfortable in my skin when I think about the match.
I am not afraid I will lose, and I believe in my ability to defeat the opponent.
It is jitters of excitement I am feeling.
I want to fight Stein for multiple reasons. He is being trained by the former champion, and he made it into the final match after some difficult fights to get here. But the main reason is that the smug bastard has struck a claim on my Ezra.
I will put him in his place and beat the idea that she is mine into his skull.
I return my attention to the plan and take in all the details. The coach had made some changes after he thought more deeply about it. I study the new plan and find a flaw that would give Stein the upper hand.
Any advantage in the ring can put an end to the fight within seconds.
“This is perfect,” the coach says with a spirited laugh.
“Yes, yes,” he exclaims excitedly, “We’re going to destroy those conceited bastards!”
I can’t say why the coach has this unreasonable loathing towards the former champion. But it is a personal problem that does not involve me, so I tend to stay out of it.
It does make me curious, though.
“We have to be at the arena by noon tomorrow, so we will leave at ten.” The coach hangs the whiteboard back on the fridge. He has also erased all traces of the plan.
“Get a good night’s rest and have Ezra call me later,” he mentions off-handedly.
I raise a curious brow at the inquisitive smile on the man’s lips. He shakes his head and waves his hand nonchalantly.
“It’s almost the end of the contract,” he says casually. “I want her to drive tomorrow because she has experience with escorting clients to events that are bombarded with paparazzi.”
“The end of the contract,” I mimic the words while it is still floating around in my head.
I do not quite grasp it yet, but the dread is there in my stomach.
“Yeah,” he comments slowly as suspicion crawls into his eyes. “Didn’t you know? All contracts with Cypher are finished at midnight.”
“This is the last night,” I remark dully, dazed and slow to catch up. “Midnight.”
“You didn’t know,” he notes with a grimace. “She didn’t tell you.”
The coach knows that something is different between Ezra and me. He has known since the beginning when I first laid eyes on her. If it was not obvious before, our kiss at the conference would have been the wake-up call for him.
“It’s company policy to return to their headquarters once the job has been completed. Ezra will need to leave at midnight,” he says with a light tread in his tone as if afraid to offend me.
I am not offended, and I’m not angry at either of them. I am the one at fault; it is my name on the contract, and I should know everything in it. I didn’t look through it and don’t know the policies that were part of the agreement.
I fault myself for not being able to resist Ezra’s beauty and not reading through the contract. I also blame myself for taking the coach’s word that he had the security details handled.
“Ah, shit,” he hisses, “I should let you talk to her about it.”
He hastily throws some words together that sound like a warning about not staying up too late and keeping myself hydrated.
He shouts to Ezra over his shoulder and bids her goodnight. He leaves hurriedly and nearly trips when he enters the hallway but manages to slam the door behind him.
“Is something troubling you?” Ezra asks naively as she steps back inside, closing the balcony door behind her.
I don’t beat around the bush as I straighten my back. I leave the kitchen chair and stroll towards her. The silence has her tilting her head as I hug her to my chest.
The sudden motion topples her smaller body, and she holds onto the back of my shirt for balance.
“Reese?” she whispers into my chest.
It is so soft that I nearly miss it, but I only press a kiss to the top of her head. She smells l
ike flowers, but everything flows together perfectly.
“You’re leaving soon,” I murmur.
There is no ulterior motive behind my words; it’s just a fact I would like to mention without her thinking she had done something wrong.
She flinches, and I squeeze her shoulders harder. “Yes, I will be returning home shortly.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask back.
Her head lifts in bewilderment. “I was under the assumption that you knew.”
I did not know. If the coach hadn't given me a heads-up, I would have assumed she left me in the middle of the night. I could not bear the thought of her leaving without saying goodbye to me.
This is not a forever farewell; I know where to find her and will not ever hesitate to do so. Ezra is mine. There is no place worthy of her other than in my arms.
Although I stay calm and collected, others would have panicked over this. I already know she wants to be mine, but she is bound to the company. So, she must obey them to the best of her ability.
That is fine with me. I will get her back once the contract ends.
“I’m sorry,” she says, obligingly.
“Not your fault,” I say as my hand trails down to her hip.
She finds comfort in my arms when her eyes close, head turned to the side while my heartbeat trickles in her ear.
There is nothing to address. Ezra is going to leave at midnight; there is no choice in the matter since she is still employed by Cypher Security.
I don’t want to cause any trouble by keeping her here, but I will go in the morning to take her back.
We stand in each other’s arms, relishing the unrestricted contact since we have to be careful in the presence of people at the training facility.
The sun begins to set behind the skyscrapers, elongated shadows stretching over the furniture. Uneven shapes cover the penthouse while I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.
Thoughts about when she will be leaving, tomorrow’s match, and the millions who will be watching me via the live feed.
I only care about having Ezra watch me. She is my motivation to win, along with the prize money. In a deep part of my heart, I want to prove myself to parents who had disapproved of my choice to be a professional boxer. I want them to see my victory. I am going to prove them wrong.