by A. C. Arthur
Dylan didn’t stop her. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze darkened as he sat back in the chair. Cris kept her gaze on his as her tongue circled the slit in his dick. Her breasts felt fuller than they ever had before, her nipples tightening and pressing against the soft material of her bra.
She pulled her tongue back and opened her mouth over the head of his cock. His skin was silky smooth and warm as her tongue and lips clamped over him. The quick moan escaped before she could even consider holding it in. But it was far too late for that. Cris was an all-in type of woman. When she made a decision she followed it through to the end. She’d decided she would come back to D.C. to not only find a new job, but also to see if there was something more between her and Dylan. So far, the something more was definitely an option. A delicious one.
Dylan was still silent even though she’d felt his thigh muscles tense as she rested her arms on him to get a better hold of his dick. Both hands were on him now, one wrapped around the base of his cock, while the other slipped further into his boxers to cup his heavy sac. He still did not speak, just as he had not spoken to that woman in the club who had performed the hand job on him.
Cris cleared that thought from her mind. First, because she definitely did not want to think of being in competition with someone else and second, because Dylan touched a hand to her head. He hadn’t touched that other woman.
His fingers slipped slowly through the loose strands of her hair, blunt tips rolling over her scalp. Encouraged, Cris dipped her head lower. She relaxed the muscles of her throat and breathed in deeply as she took in more of his length. Touching her lips to his skin, flattening her tongue against the bottom stretch of his cock, she sucked in her cheeks. His fingers tightened around her hair until he was pulling with just enough encouragement to have her easing back, his length slipping slowly out of her mouth.
Cris held onto him, but inhaled deeply with her lips just inches away from his cock. She looked up to see him staring intently at her.
“I asked about you when we were at the club and was given the name you prefer to go by. Then, at the auction, when you were introduced, they used the same name. Why do they call you “The Master”?”
She did not release her hold on him, loving the feel of his warm length throbbing beneath her touch. When he didn’t answer right away she dipped her head lower, taking him into her mouth once more. Now she bobbed her head over him, taking him in and out, stroking him with her hand and mouth until she was breathless from the effort.
He buried another hand in her hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers and this time tugging her back from his cock with more force. When his dick plopped free of her lips and her breath was coming in heaves, Dylan held her head in his hands, tilting it upward so that she could meet his gaze.
“Because I am the master of pleasure,” he whispered.
His voice was so deep and thick with desire that her lips quivered, both the ones on her face and the ones between her legs. The lower sensation was followed by a deep throbbing that signaled need, pure unadulterated sexual need.
Dylan continued to push her back. At the same time he came forward in the chair, until his fingers were falling from her hair and they were both coming to a standing position. He stepped to her and took her mouth in a scorching hot kiss complete with tongues, lips, teeth and moans.
“Let me show you,” he growled when he finally tore his mouth away from hers.
Cris didn’t have time to ask what she was about to be shown, nor did she care. Dylan had lifted her in his arms, cradling her against his chest like she was a child. He walked them across the room to the bed and set her gently on top of the comforter.
That was where the gentleness stopped.
He leaned forward, his mouth moving savagely against hers. Cris had tilted her head back so far to meet the demand of his kiss that she thought the back of her neck would pop. Her lips were wet from him sucking them both deep into his mouth before plunging his tongue back inside for more.
Then he was pulling away from her. Cris heaved out a breath. She was just about to situate herself on the bed, maybe ask him what was about to happen next, or something along those lines, when he reached for her. Dylan slipped his fingers beneath the rim of her leggings. Cris had no idea how, but he grabbed the ban of her thong as well, pulling both down her legs so fast she fell back on the bed from the motion. He had her bare from the waist down in seconds. Her legs were in the air and spread wide moments later. And then his face was there. His lips on her lips, his tongue delving deep into her center pumping the way his dick had last night.
Cris gasped. Her fingers gripped the comforter and her teeth bit into her bottom lip. His mouth moved with one goal only—infinite pleasure. Sliding up her slit to touch the hood of her clit, he licked and circled, sucked and slurped. Down again he was in her deep, milking every drop of her essence before moaning. She wanted to pump into his face, to grab the back of his head and hold him to her until she exploded, but she couldn’t.
Dylan had complete control. His fingers were clamped around her ankles, holding her legs out wide and pushing her back until her ass cheeks weren’t even touching the bed. His face was buried inside of her, until her thighs quaked and her eyes rolled back in her head.
“What do you feel?” he asked when he moved his mouth slightly, his warm breath brushing over her damp folds.
Cris couldn’t talk. Her answer was a moan and a twist of her hips. She wanted to come. No, she needed it like she needed air. Her body felt so tight she was shaking all over. She was so close and he was talking.
Dylan licked her long and slow. She moaned deep and loud.
“Tell me what you feel,” he insisted.
“Pleasure!” she yelled. “So much pleasure that if you don’t finish this I swear I’ll…”
Cris didn’t get to finish her sentence because Dylan had gone in for more. This time he licked from her clit to her center and back further until she was squirming in his grasp. Her eyes were closed tight, her fingers pulling the comforter until she was sure it was lifting off the bed. He came back up licking and sucking, the sound of slurping echoing in the room. She was so wet and so primed to be fucked. Would he put his dick inside her at this moment? Or would he continue this sweet torment with his tongue? She had no clue and she really didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was the pleasure and her climax.
The latter came seconds later and she moaned his name as he held her shaking legs tightly.
“Take me to The Corporation,” Cris asked half an hour later after they’d both had time in the bathroom and were now laying across the bed.
“Why?”
“Because I want to see it through your eyes. I want to do what you like to do there.”
“This is not for you, Cris.” Dylan told her. He sat up and dropped his head into his hands. Dragging those hands down his face he sighed heavily.
“None of this is what I planned for us. We’re really good friends. That means a lot to me.”
“Oh please, don’t give me that “we’re friends and that’s all” spiel. We’re way beyond that,” she told him. “We are adults. That’s it. And if two consenting adults want to have sex or play at a sex club, they’re permitted to do so.”
“This can’t be what you’re thinking. I can’t give you what you ultimately want.”
“Then for now, give me what I need,” she insisted.
7
Two days later Cris stood in an empty bedroom staring out of floor-to-ceiling windows at the fading sunlight. It was a chilly Friday and this was the third apartment she’d looked at today. She was tired and hungry and was thinking that it was just like her to feel drawn to one of the most expensive apartment buildings in the city.
The location was excellent, the view was breathtaking and the space was more than she’d even considered. Basically, the place was winning in all areas, except the price. Cris came from a family where money was not an issue. Her father constantly reminded his ch
ildren of how hard he worked to make sure that his family was provided for. Jeremiah taught his sons the same work ethic and principles of taking care of the family they would one day build, while Celestine taught Cris how to be the perfect wife. Cris wanted to be a professional, amass her own wealth and be the type of wife she chose to be. The type that could go into a courtroom and win a tough case, then come home and ride her husband until they were both screaming from pleasure.
The latter came from the memory of two nights ago when Dylan had spent the night in her hotel room.
Cris hadn’t expected him and truth be told, when he’d arrived at her room she’d been irritated beyond measure that he’d followed her and still confused about what had happened in his playroom the night before. Dylan had explained both incidents but that hadn’t made her feel better. His presence made her feel more aroused. After years of being this man’s friend and holding back any other feelings for him, her attraction to him seemed to shoot out of the gates now.
When they were in the room together the flame was immediately lit and spread like an inferno in no time. Two nights ago had been more of the same. After their first oral tryst and her request to be taken to The Corporation, Dylan had attempted to talk the way they used to.
“Why’d you come back?” he’d asked. “You were doing well at that firm in New York. Your litigation track record had won you a coveted position in the corporate department and you were entering into international negotiations for some of their top clients. You had it made.”
Cris had sat in the center of the hotel bed, wearing a night shirt she’d pulled on after washing up, her legs crossed beneath her.
“It was great in New York. From the time they recruited me to the time I got the promotion. I loved the rush of litigating and winning the unwinnable cases. And the accolades from that propelled me to the promotion. I’d begun traveling for clients and was really making a name for myself.”
Dylan finished that sentence for her. “A good, solid professional name. Exactly what you always wanted.”
He was right, that was what she’d said she always wanted, to be someone other than Jeremiah and Celestine Palmer’s daughter. And she’d made it.
“It wasn’t enough,” she confided. “I had a great apartment, and a Mercedes I never drove because traffic in New York is horrific. It’s not great here in D.C. either which is why Uber has definitely been my friend.” She’d chuckled.
“But you weren’t happy.”
“No,” she replied. “I wasn’t happy. I thought I would be, you know. We talked so many nights about our planned success and how once we got there everything else would fall in place. But it didn’t. I waited and waited, but there was still something missing.”
“Something you think you’ll find in D.C.?”
She’d shrugged. “I don’t know. But I came back here because it was the last place I was happiest. I wanted that feeling again. The energy and the possibility. The comfort and the acceptance.”
“It wasn’t the same after you left,” he admitted.
“Then why didn’t you answer when I did finally call you?”
“I’d started my internship by then and only wanted the best for you. I wanted you to soar into your destiny. Remember you used to say that all the time.” He’d laughed at the memory and Cris joined him.
“When you finally get your wings under you and begin to fly, you also learn to maneuver your direction. I can be a successful attorney anywhere. I needed to go where my heart and soul could be fulfilled on another level,” she said.
“And that’s here?”
She’d nodded. “I think so.”
His immediate silence afterward meant he didn’t want to ask her why she thought that way. He didn’t want to risk her saying that her return was all about him. That wasn’t what she would have said because it wasn’t totally true. Cris didn’t feel like Dylan was the answer to all her happiness woes. She did feel like there was unfinished business between then, or rather, unchartered waters for them to conquer.
Dylan had spent the night, allowing the passion between them to be ignited again and again, without any misgivings. Of course, they didn’t talk about what would happen after the sex, but that was okay for now. Cris still had a few things to smooth out on her end before that discussion became necessary.
Now, she turned from the window and surveyed the space once more. This was a huge master bedroom, with lots of natural light. She would love that for the lazy Sunday afternoons when she either binge-watched her favorite shows or relaxed with a good book. She walked through the room once more before moving out into the narrow hallway and eventually the open living/dining room and kitchen area where she stopped once more and looked around. Design ideas immediately popped into her mind and she knew that meant she was going to sign the lease for this apartment. She would have faith that one of the three interviews she’d had in the last two days would lead to a job offer and she would be able to afford the place.
She’d been carrying her purse on her left shoulder while holding her cell phone in her right hand to take pictures of the apartment. The phone buzzed in her hand. She lifted it so she could see the screen and smiled when she read Dylan’s name at the top of the text message box.
6:00pm
That’s all the message said.
Cris hadn’t seen him in two days. They’d spoken on the phone a couple of times in the evening after he’d finished at work, but he hadn’t come to the hotel again and he hadn’t invited Cris to his place, or out anywhere. Dylan had always possessed an air of mystery. From his reluctance to talk in detail about his parents and his childhood, to what he truly wanted in his future, Cris had only received bits and pieces from him over the years. It appeared he hadn’t lost that trait.
She cleared the message and noticed it was quarter to five now. She rushed out of the apartment noting she’d call the rental office first thing tomorrow morning to complete the application process. Right now, she needed to get showered and changed for whatever was happening at 6:00pm.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Cris walked into her hotel room and stopped immediately. On the table near the window was a huge black box with a white envelope taped to the top. Sitting in the chair next to the table were two black bags.
Eerie but intriguing. Cris walked toward the table and yanked the envelope off the box. She opened it to see a black card with no words on the front. Flipping the card over, she read the message: Put on ONLY the dress and shoes. Don’t be late. 6:00pm D
Cris opened the box next and pulled back the lavender tissue paper on top. Her gasp was audible as she stared down at the black dress. She touched the soft material of the dress, lifting it out of the box to hold it in front of her. It was a straight dress with a zipper down the front that would probably come to about mid-thigh. Cris pressed the dress against her and smiled. She was about to set the dress back into the box and go for the bags on the chair, but she noticed another layer of tissue paper, pink this time. She lay the black dress on the back of the second chair and pulled back the pink paper. There was another dress in the box. It was white in a pattern that looked like swatches of material wrapped around in an almost mummy-like fashion, with capped sleeves. There was a deep plunge in the back of this dress.
Cris recalled the message on the card.
“Yeah, I don’t think anything else is going to fit with this dress,” she whispered.
Seconds later, Cris was opening the two bags. Christian Louboutin shoes, one pair open-toed with a black and white striped tie at the ankle, the other pair patent leather closed-toe pumps that were black at the toe but faded into a black and white pattern from the middle to the five-inch heel.
She stood for another few seconds in awe of the packages before she realized Dylan was dressing her. He’d given her a time to be ready, the clothes to wear and an instruction to be on time. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she wondered what all this meant. That lasted for another five minutes before
she had to dash into the shower.
Dylan sat at the table in the private room he’d reserved at The Corporation. It was actually a suite on the second of the four floors the club occupied in the Jefferson Swayne building. He brushed at imaginary lint on the lapel of his black suit jacket before letting his hands fall to his thighs.
He was nervous.
Dylan was never nervous.
He had a plan, but he wasn’t sure it was going to work.
Dylan never doubted himself.
It was almost six fifteen. The driver should be pulling into the garage at this moment. He would park on the second floor, ride the private elevator with Cris and then leave her at the front desk. Once there, one of the evening hostesses would check her in on the guest registry. A text would come to Dylan’s phone notifying him of her arrival and Cris would be escorted to his room.
Dinner would be served and then…he would show her what he really was. He wanted to be more nonchalant about what would happen and whether or not Cris liked what she learned, but he couldn’t.
Was what he planned to do going to frighten Cris away once and for all? And was that what he really wanted, for her to walk out of his life, for good this time? It shouldn’t matter if the answer to both questions was yes, Dylan didn’t need anyone in his life on a personal basis. Isn’t that what he’d been telling himself since his parents dropped him off in Chicago and jetted off to New Zealand?
His phone buzzed on the table. Dylan looked at the screen. Cris was on her way up.
Dylan stood. He fastened the single button on his suit jacket and walked to the door. A few minutes later the door opened.
“Hello, Dylan.” Cris walked in and looked around.
She wore the white dress and the shoes with the ties around her ankles. His dick jumped before Dylan could open his mouth to speak.