My turn, he said, and I was more than happy with that. I was desperate to taste him, desperate to touch him.
I leaned forward on the couch, reaching for him, but he gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘Not yet.’ His voice was pure gravel, sending a thread of excitement through me.
I took pride in getting my clients off, and I was good at it, though the sex was only a part of the service I provided. Yet I’d never felt the same thrill at getting them worked up as I felt with Trajan.
And that was probably because I hadn’t done a thing. I’d just lain there and let him touch me, taste me, and he’d lost it simply doing that. It filled me with pleasure, made me flush with heat, and now I wanted to return the favour.
‘Please.’ I looked up at him. ‘You gave me two orgasms in a row. I think you deserve some attention.’
‘Yeah, I’m not about keeping score.’ Those long, capable fingers grabbed the tab of his zipper and began to ease it down. ‘And what I deserve doesn’t matter. This is about you, Maggie; I told you that.’
I found myself staring at the movement of his hand, my mouth going dry. I wanted to see him. Taste him. I wanted to give him all the intense pleasure he’d given me. ‘If this is for me, then I want that to be for me too,’ I murmured, reaching out yet again.
‘Maybe.’ He brushed away my hand. ‘If you’re very good.’
I shivered, slipping down off the couch and kneeling in front of him. ‘Oh, I’m very good. I’ll be your good girl, just watch me.’
Instantly a hand gripped my chin and I found my head being tipped back, his dark gaze on mine. And it hit me again just how intent his focus was on my face, how narrow. Like Gran trying to read the newspaper, holding it close, frowning in concentration just as Trajan was doing right now...
‘Don’t,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m not a client tonight, remember? And I don’t want you to be anything but you.’
My thoughts fractured at the hard note in his beautiful voice. The good-girl thing was Honey, it was true, and it had slipped out before I’d been able to stop it. A rote response.
I stared up at him and gave him bare honesty. ‘I want to taste you and I want to touch you. I want to do all the things you did to me, because you’re not the only one who’s been fantasising the past two weeks.’
His thumb moved to my mouth, dragging the pad of it over my bottom lip, his touch scattering sparks and lighting little fires everywhere. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then his mouth curved. ‘Well, I can hardly refuse that, can I?’ He dropped his hand and stepped back. ‘But not until I say. You’re so fucking sexy, Maggie, that I’m in danger of disappointing us both.’
A shiver of sheer pleasure went through me. ‘Then you’d better hurry, hadn’t you?’
One dark brow rose. ‘Didn’t I say I was going to take this slow?’
‘You weren’t going slow just now,’ I pointed out. ‘I don’t think I ever came so hard or so quickly, twice in a row.’
The curve of his mouth deepened, taking on a hungry, wicked edge that I felt deep in my sex, making me breathless. ‘No, that’s true. I hadn’t realised how delicious that pussy of yours would be.’
My mouth dried. A lot of clients talked dirty to me but, although I made sure that I was into it with them, I didn’t have to work for the flood of heat that washed through me at the sound of Trajan’s voice.
He is going to ruin you. You know this, don’t you?
I shoved the thought away. Hard. I’d deal with that later. Right now, this was for me.
Trajan was still looking down at me and I thought I saw a flicker of frustration cross his face, though why he’d be frustrated I couldn’t tell. Then he lifted a finger and brushed my cheek, running the tip over my skin. ‘You’re blushing,’ he murmured. ‘Your cheeks are all hot. What? No one ever told you that your pussy tastes delicious?’
‘Yes,’ I said, because they had.
His hand cupped the side of my cheek. ‘You blush with them too?’
‘No.’ I turned my face into his palm. ‘Just you.’
I heard him let out a breath and then his hand dropped away. ‘Stay where you are, sweetheart. Don’t move.’ And then he tugged his zipper down the rest of the way and, in a series of smooth, economic movements, he got rid of the rest of his clothes.
I wanted him to go slower. I wanted to touch him as he revealed himself, take some time to trace the outline of his magnificent cock beneath the cotton of his boxers, stroke him, squeeze him, make him growl. But he’d told me to stay still and so I did, watching the play of his muscles as he divested himself of his clothes, the light falling over smooth velvety skin, tracing the dips and hollows of sinew and bone.
He was a beautiful, beautiful man. Every bit as spectacular as I thought he’d be.
And then he was naked, standing in front of me, his cock long and thick and hard, curving to brush against his flat stomach. He was incredibly aroused and the sight of it made me even more hungry.
Dimly, a warning bell dimly went off in my head—that my response was too intense, that I needed to keep myself separate—but I ignored it. I’d kept myself separate with everyone else, and I didn’t want to do that with him.
With him it was as if I were feeling this for the first time. As if all this were new to me.
It is new to you.
God, maybe it was. Sex didn’t touch me because I’d never let it, not even that first time in the back of that car in high school, with a guy whose name I couldn’t even remember. Because I’d just wanted to do it. I’d wanted my virginity to be gone.
How weird. I’d had a lot of sex, but this was the first time I’d really felt it, really let it affect me. This was the first time it had touched my emotions, and in a good way...
And, yes, I was going to let that happen tonight.
Tonight, with him, I wanted to feel.
Trajan jerked his head to one side in an unspoken command and obediently I moved. He went over to the couch, then turned and sat down where I’d been sitting a moment or two earlier, right under the light.
Then he leaned back, spreading his long, powerful thighs arrogantly. ‘Come here,’ he ordered.
I couldn’t move fast enough, kneeling between his legs and reaching for him. His cock felt smooth and hot and hard against my fingertips, his skin like velvet. The musky scent of salt and warm earth and pine surrounded me, and when his hands went lazily to my hair, his fingers burrowing into my curls, I trembled.
‘Suck me, then, Maggie.’ His voice was dark and deep and rough. ‘Do what gives you pleasure. But, when I come, I want you to swallow me. Every last drop, understand?’
‘Yes.’ I could barely speak.
‘Good.’ His grip in my hair tightened and, slowly, he drew my head down.
I licked the smooth head of his cock, tasting salt and musk before running my tongue around it, swirling lightly. He made a deep, growling sound in his throat, his fingers pressing against my scalp making pleasure curl tightly inside me.
Squeezing him with one hand, I traced patterns with my tongue down the length of his shaft and then back up again, teasing him the way he’d teased me. Nipping at him, using my teeth to push him higher at the same time as I pumped him gently.
I loved the sounds he made, rough and hungry, his hips lifting in response to my touch. I stroked his hard, flat stomach with my free hand, glorying in the feel of him and how his breathing accelerated as I touched him.
But, as demanding as the sounds he made were, the hands in my hair were never rough or hard. They traced the shape of my skull, his fingertips pressing lightly against my scalp, massaging slowly and easily.
His touch felt so good, making everything more sensual, more erotic.
I took him in my mouth as deep as I could get, touching the back of my throat, and he gave a rough curse, his hips lifting. And then he b
egan to thrust in a slow rhythm. I thought he might grip my hair tightly, holding my head still, but he didn’t. He kept on with that slow, massaging touch while I began to suck him, too caught up in the taste of him to be aware of anything else.
I leaned into him, spreading my fingers out on his stomach, and he closed his thighs, holding me between them, the rhythmic thrust of his hips and the slide of his cock in my mouth making me feel as though I was surrounded in heat and hard, masculine arousal. He wasn’t demanding, letting me set the pace, and there was something freeing about that. It felt as though there was no pressure on me at all; as if I was free to follow my own needs rather than his; as if he was content to let me kneel here for as long as I wanted.
I could feel him watching me and, when I flicked my gaze up, his blue eyes caught mine and held them fast. ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Just like that. Let me see you suck me.’
The light was shining on us both, his gaze was on my mouth, watching, and I could feel the change in his body—his muscles tensing, the slow undulation of his hips getting faster.
He was close now, I could tell, and I could feel his pleasure as if it were my own, a slow, building ache deep in my sex. I squeezed him harder, sucking him deeper, his hips moving faster in response. And then his fingers abruptly fisted in my hair, his hips driving upwards into my mouth, a rough groan escaping him as he said my name.
And he came in my mouth, hot and hard against the back of my throat.
And I swallowed him down, every last, delicious drop.
Just as I promised I would.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Trajan
I STARED AT HER, unable to take my eyes off her, the effect of that stunning orgasm paralysing me. My breathing was fast, my heartbeat faster, the aftershocks hitting me in short, sharp, electrical bursts.
The light rendered everything in vivid detail: the silky golden curls that framed her face; her pouty mouth stretched around my cock; the red in her cheeks and the burn of hunger in her dark eyes that showed me how sucking me had aroused her.
I hadn’t planned to get her to give me a blow job—or at least not until much later in the evening—but when she’d looked up at me and told me that she wanted me I hadn’t been able to resist. I hadn’t quite been able to see her face, which had frustrated me, but I could hear the longing in her voice; she’d given me the truth. She wanted me as badly as I wanted her and, if I’d wanted this night to be about her pleasure, then who was I to deny her?
Fuck, it had been phenomenally erotic to watch her kneel between my legs, lean forward and take me in her mouth. To feel the silky brush of her hair against my thighs and her hand squeeze around my aching dick. The soft press of her lips and the wet heat surrounding me, the promise of what she’d feel like when I was eventually inside her. And the pressure of her mouth, the gentle suck...
I’d had no idea how incredible it would feel.
Soft lips brushed my stomach, her hands stroking me, and I leaned down, gripping her and pulling her up into my lap, relishing the feel of her bare, warm skin sliding over mine. I settled her the way I’d had her before, in the crook of my arm, and then I gently tipped her head back again into the light so I could get a good look at her face.
Her mascara had run, her lipstick was smudged and she looked thoroughly and completely debauched. Sexy as hell.
I stared down into her dark eyes. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. That was incredible.’
She gave me an almost shy smile, making something hot and tight shift in my chest. ‘Actually, I think you’re the incredible one.’ Her hand lifted and I felt her fingers in my hair. ‘And I’m also not the only one who tastes delicious.’
‘And are you hungry for anything else?’
Her eyes glittered. ‘You.’
The hot thing in my chest shifted again. God, I loved that hunger for me in her eyes. ‘I was thinking of actual food, but I’ll take that too.’
‘Well, now you mention it...’ She turned to rest her cheek against my shoulder. ‘Actual food sounds good.’ I couldn’t see it, but I felt the brush of soft fingers trailing over my chest, the touch sending delicious chills through me. ‘Though you’re going to need to give me a few minutes,’ she added. ‘Because I don’t think I can walk.’
‘Keep touching me like that and in a few minutes I might want more than food.’ I lowered my head and nuzzled her pretty curls, enjoying the feel of her light caresses. It had been a long time since I’d been touched like this. Since I’d started to lose my sight, I’d preferred to keep my liaisons brief, and I hadn’t thought I’d miss the simple pleasure of resting, relaxed and easy after sex, a woman in my arms, with the prospect of yet more sex to look forward to.
Apparently I did miss it, though, because I was certainly enjoying it now.
The silence settled around us and there was no pressure in it. An easy silence. I allowed her fingers to trace patterns on my skin. My vision was full of golden curls, but I didn’t mind that. I could feel the gentle weight of her in my arms, smell the delicious scent of musk and coconut, vanilla and orchids. Hear the soft sound of her breathing.
And there was a moment when the thought occurred to me that I didn’t need more than this. That if I had all those sensations then I wouldn’t need anything else. That what little sight I had left was just a bonus, not a requirement.
It wasn’t a thought I should have had, since it implied I wasn’t happy with what was happening to me—and, sure, I wasn’t happy with it, but I’d accepted it. I had no choice, as there was no cure, and struggling against the inevitable was a wasted effort. Better to expend my energy learning to live with it, making sure it had no impact at all on my life, rather than dwell on what I couldn’t change.
Have you accepted it, though? Have you really?
I ignored that snide little thought, preferring to focus on Maggie and how she felt in my arms. On the pleasure she’d given me and the pleasure I’d given her. Had she ever had this? Ever? I’d had pleasure with many women, it was true...but I had to admit, it had never been as intense with any of them as it had been with Maggie.
You don’t want deeper, though.
I didn’t. Yet sitting here on this couch, with her in my arms, made me feel as if deeper was something that could happen. And that it might not be such a bad thing after all.
‘Why do you do this?’ I asked idly, too caught up in the feel of satiny skin beneath my palm as I ran a hand down her thigh to pay attention to what I was saying.
‘Do what?’
‘Work for Strangers.’
I’d asked her about it before, a couple of weeks after we’d first started meeting. We’d been in the kitchen and I’d been cooking, and our conversation had drifted onto money for some reason. I’d been curious about what made a woman choose to hire herself out to men, and she’d told me it was quite simple: she needed the cash. But there had been a note in her voice that had made me sure there was more to it for her than that. I hadn’t pushed her then. Perhaps she’d tell me now.
‘Haven’t we had this conversation?’ she said. ‘Gran is developing dementia and I’m going to need money for care—’
‘I don’t think it’s just about your gran.’ I toyed with her hair, wrapping a curl around my finger tip. ‘Is it the money? Validation? What?’
She was silent a long time and I could feel a subtle tension coil in her body. Then slowly she let out a breath and tilted her head to look up at me. Her face swam into my central vision, her expression serious. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Suddenly my idle question didn’t feel quite as idle any more.
‘Call it curiosity,’ I said.
‘Curiosity in general or—?’
‘Curiosity about you,’ I interrupted gently, wanting her to know that. ‘You in particular.’
A fleeting expression I couldn’t read crossed her face, but I had the impr
ession that the comment had pleased her.
‘Well, okay. But, if I tell you, you can’t laugh.’
I frowned. ‘Why would you think I’d laugh?’
She shook her head. ‘Just don’t. Because if you do, I’m afraid I will have to kill you.’
The words were a joke, but her tone was not. She meant it.
I moved my hand to the back of her neck, clasping it gently in a reassuring grip. ‘I won’t laugh.’
Some of the tension left her body, as if my touch had soothed her, and I could feel her weight shift and a light pressure against my fingers as she leaned into my hand. Then she took a breath and gave me an oddly challenging look. ‘I need money for college. I want to get into med school.’
She was smart—I’d always known that—and I’d sensed that she was a woman of determination, so the confession didn’t surprise me in the least. What did surprise me was that she’d think I’d find it funny.
‘Why would I laugh at that?’ I asked. ‘If that’s what you want, then it sounds like a great idea. Tough, sure, but why not?’
A crease formed between her brows, as if she was studying me for signs that I was making fun of her. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little weird, though? The whore who wants to be a doctor?’
I caught the undercurrent of anger in her voice—it was obvious, even if the word ‘whore’ hadn’t been a complete giveaway—and instinctively I tightened my grip on the back of her neck, using the pressure to quiet her.
Then I realised she was trembling.
‘Sweetheart?’ I asked softly, unfamiliar concern constricting in my chest. ‘What is it?’
She looked away from me, her curls falling over her face, hiding her expression completely. I wanted to turn her back again, to get the light back on those lovely features, but I could tell already from the tension in her body that perhaps that would be a mistake. That maybe I needed to give her a moment.
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