by Kelly Favor
I shiver a little.
“Cold?” he says.
“No. Just…happy.” I shiver again and he wraps his strong arms around me, and I feel so held, so safe, his warmth envelops me and I realize I have never felt this protected in all my life.
It doesn’t make sense that I feel this way. I hardly know Dermot Nash, and what I do know about him isn’t exactly comforting. He’s a serial womanizer, an arrogant billionaire who had made it very clear that this situation is temporary and I’m disposable.
So why am I in this warm cocoon right now, his arms around me, holding me, and his light beard rubbing against my cheek, as he nuzzles into my neck ever so slightly? Why am I so secure when everything about the situation should be making me feel just the opposite?
I can’t say.
Maybe it’s the good wine.
Maybe it’s Manhattan, and this tower I’m standing in, maybe it’s being so far from my home and all of my real problems.
Whatever it is, I just want it to last.
“God, you smell amazing,” he whispers. His lips are hot on my neck as he speaks.
“I like this,” I murmur.
“You’re going to like everything I show you, Haisley.”
“Promise?”
“I swear it. But now it’s time for dessert.” He breaks away and grabs my hand. “Come.” He walks me back inside, and we take the spiral staircase back up to the bedroom.
My heart is racing again, as he lets go of my hand and looks me up and down.
“What now?” I ask, anxious.
“Tell me what you like.”
“I don’t really know.”
“Do you like my lips on your neck?” he says, softly.
“God, yes.” I feel my skin blushing. “I love it.”
He walks forward, his hands brushing against my thighs and then sliding to my hips, bringing the hem of my sundress with them. My dress is now hiked slightly up my thighs, and his large hands are spread on my hips, the tips of his fingers against my bare skin.
He slowly cranes his neck, leaning down until his lips brush ever so softly against my skin. My throat feels hot, white hot, as he kisses, and then I feel his tongue, sweeping, but still soft and delicate, against my flesh.
“Like this?” he says.
“Oh…yes. That’s so…” I feel my center contracting and the heat blossoms in my core, between my legs. I feel my hips working automatically, triggered by the sensual feeling of his lips and his hands and his heat.
I feel drunk, not on wine, but on him.
My eyes are closed, and I’m churning with lust so strong that I want to cry out.
I’m getting wound tighter and tighter as he kisses my neck, and his lips leave a trail up and down my neck, to my cleavage. I think he’s going to continue on, down between my breasts, and then…who knows where?
But instead, he kisses up my neck and then his lips finally lock onto mine.
Holy.
Fuck.
The kiss is like an explosion in my head. It echoes and reverberates through my entire body, until the churning need inside of me breaks loose, a dam bursting.
I kiss him back, fully, my tongue meeting his.
My fear and anxiety is gone, drowned out by the river of lust and desire that Dermot Nash has unleashed within me.
His mouth opens to me, his lips, soft and sensual and somehow expressive. It’s like a silent conversation we’re having, and in this silence, I can feel my blood rushing, heart pounding, and feel his need.
His hunger for me is strong enough to almost overpower me, because nobody’s ever felt anything like that for me before.
My mother left when I was little, and never really bothered with me again. My father always longed for the television to be on, to be watching a basketball game, a baseball game, something he could wager on. His love was the dopamine rush he got when all his money was on the line.
Me? I was just ordinary, I was just plain and simple and quiet.
Forgettable. Forgotten.
I never made waves. Nobody’s ever hungered for me, for my mind, for my mouth, for my breasts, my body or my pussy.
Sure, there were young men who’d have gladly screwed me, slept with me—whatever. But that was just because I was a woman and if I was willing, that would have been enough.
This time, right now, is totally different.
Dermot wants me, and I can feel it. Is it because he had to pay for me? Does that somehow confer legitimacy upon me, does it tell him that I must therefore be desirable?
It doesn’t feel that way. Dermot breaks off from our kiss and looks into my eyes.
“What is it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” I say.
“You’re in your head, Haisley. You’re stuck in your thoughts. I can sense it. I need you to stay here with me, right now. Be in this moment with me, don’t run away.”
“I’m trying,” I tell him. “It’s just…confusing. I keep wondering if you…”
“Don’t worry about me. Don’t concern yourself with my motivations, don’t do anything but enjoy this. That’s all you have to do.”
I take a deep breath and release it. His dark eyes magnetize to mine. I can’t do anything but nod and promise him that I’ll listen to his command. He is the one with all the experience, and besides, he paid me to provide this service.
I’m here to follow directions.
And the truth is, I want to be freed from this prison of my mind. I don’t want to think about how much money I’m spending to save my idiot father, knowing he’ll just gamble and lose more in the future. I don’t want to wonder if Dermot really likes me, or really wants me the way I want him.
All I want to do is feel his lips on me again.
And then I do feel his lips, this time kissing my neck, down to my collarbone, between my breasts. This time he lingers. His hands slide up my hips, my ribs, and then his hands are gripping my flesh, pulling my breasts free from the thin material of my sundress.
The bra I’m wearing is not very strong, and it gives way, allowing my breasts to come free, the pink nipples erect, completely bare to Dermot’s intense gaze.
“Fuck, look at those sweet tits. Goddamn, I want to suck them, Haisley.”
“Please, suck them. Taste them,” I moan, my voice shaking. I can’t believe I am being so bold.
His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “Don’t tempt me too much, baby,” he whispers.
“Please,” I say again, this time putting my hands on top of his, pressing them into my own flesh, squeezing my breasts together so the nipples point straight at his face. My body shivers with anticipation.
“Damn, you are sexy. What the fuck…” he mutters, as if to himself. He stares greedily at my chest, licks his lips. “I’m going to suck your tits, now.”
I nod. “Yes. Suck them, please. I need it so bad.” I’ve never talked like this before. And even though I know that people are “supposed” to talk like this during sex, I am not faking it. I am not just speaking these phrases.
I really need to him to suck my tits, to feel that sensation of this gorgeous man’s exquisite face pressed against my bosom, his tongue on my nipples. Working them, working me, furiously, and that is just what Dermot does next.
At first, he is gentler than I expect him to be.
I can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to frighten me with his aggression. Wanting to ease me into this new experience.
But the truth is, my entire body and soul is ready for this, and I am actually desperate. I cry out as his tongue and lips suckle, suctioning his mouth to my breasts, and I’m aching through my center as he lights me up with his desire.
“Harder. Oh, god, I’m gonna come.”
I cry out as he works my tits, then allows one hand to slide under my sundress, where he realizes I am without panties.
My pussy is sopping wet, my folds open, needy, as he pushes a finger inside and that’s all I require to launch int
o outer space.
I’m flying now, my entire body arches, as he slowly finger fucks me.
“Oh, God!” I shout, losing control. I clutch the duvet, as he sucks my breast harder, digs his finger deep into my channel.
I buck my hips and allow him to fuck me with his finger, expertly, making me come harder than I thought humanly possible.
I arch, shiver, and then my body is wracked by a few more minor shockwaves as he withdraws and slides up next to me in the bed. He kisses my lips fully.
As he looks at me, I turn and begin fumbling at his belt, his zipper.
He grabs my wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to…finish you off. I need you to come.”
“You wouldn’t even know how to begin,” he chuckles.
I sit up and feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. “It’s not funny,” I say. “I’m trying my best.”
He stops laughing. “I know you are. But you don’t need to force anything.”
“I want to do it.”
“Do what exactly?”
I shake my head and shrug. I’m humiliated now. I can’t bring myself to talk dirty after he laughed in my face. Am I that pathetic to him?
“Haisley, relax. I’m not poking fun at you.”
“You’re so experienced, you know everything. I’m just some dumb slut you paid for.”
Now he sits forward and grabs my hand tightly. “Don’t ever talk that way about yourself.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? You don’t consider me a peer, like the famous society women you normally date. I’m below them. Below you.”
Dermot rolls his eyes. “Most of those so-called high-class women are about as dumb as a box of rocks. Even the educated ones are vapid, self-centered, entitled, and about as interesting as staring at a blank wall.”
“And me? Am I any better?”
He doesn’t look away. “You’re nothing like them. And that’s the best compliment I could ever give you, Haisley. None of them can hold a candle to you.”
Dermot
It seems as though I’ve given Haisley a compliment to calm her down, to make her feel less wounded.
The truth is that I was merely being honest.
None of the women I’ve been with before can compare to this woman. And it doesn’t make any sense to me, because I’m aware that I’ve been with the most sexual, gorgeous, desired women on the goddamn planet.
These are the women on the movie screens we all watch, the women in the tabloids we read, women who are on the minds of men when they come, when they’re fucking their wives and girlfriends with eyes closed, deep in a fantasy of someone else.
The women I am with on a regular basis are the same ones on the top sexiest women alive lists, etcetera, etcetera.
But Haisley beats them all, hands down, without even trying.
Without a stylist, a makeup artist, a personal trainer, all the money and gimmicks and fakery. She’s just herself.
And fuck me, but who Haisley is, unadorned and unassuming, is making me hard as I’ve ever been in my life. But more than that, she’s had an effect on the part of me that I thought was dead and gone.
I don’t completely like this feeling, either, because this was never part of the plan.
But right now, as I look into her eyes, and see all of that pure white skin, soft and supple, waiting for me, I don’t have any intention of stopping either.
Even if I know that this entire situation is a disaster in the making.
I am losing control.
I am falling into the well of lust and desire.
“Thank you for being kind to me,” she whispers.
“I’m not kind. Remember?”
“I know,” she says, and then I’m kissing her again. I’m not even remotely sated, and although she’s come twice today, that’s not enough for me, either.
She’s missed out on a lifetime of sexual experiences, apparently.
And now I’m going to help her make up for lost time.
Her mouth tastes sweet like honey. But I need to know how the rest of her tastes. I need it like air. I need this so badly, and I can hardly restrain my eagerness.
I kiss down her neck, smelling her perfume, her skin. Tasting her as I go. Down to those full, heavy breasts, taking one nipple and then the other in my mouth. She cries out, birdlike, her hands fluttering as I expertly suck and lick.
This is nothing. This is just an appetizer.
I lick her belly, pulling that sundress all the way up now, revealing everything to me. She’s shaven, bare to me, delicate and curvy and delicious, untouched and unknown to anyone but me.
I am exploring uncharted waters, and she shakes beneath me in anticipation.
Her breasts heave as she breathes in and out, fast, nervous but excited. Her sex is glistening, and fuck how badly I want to taste and sup on her most secret place.
I can smell her musky, fruity scent. “You’re so sweet,” I mutter, and then I am spreading her legs wider, feeling the silk of her brushing against me as she cries out, my lips and tongue against her private core.
She opens to me, though.
She wants me so badly, she’s gushing, and damn she is sweeter then I even imagined. Like nectar, like the sweetest wine, and I’m drinking her in as I lap at those swollen folds, hearing her cries of bliss and feeling her legs shake against me.
Her sex presses upwards, and I push my tongue in, feeling her clit, the nub swelling in my mouth as she screams in ecstasy, and gushes.
I lick and lick, frantically, my cock raging, my blood pulsing so hard that I feel like I might stroke out. This is intense. She is intense.
She’s sexual, and I’ve opened the floodgates to some kind of boundless desire that I only sensed from a distance. But up close, I can feel her sucking me in, making me want and need her like a drug.
I’ve never done drugs, never would given the way I grew up.
But I imagine this must be what it’s like when an addict first touches heroin. The immediate high, the sense of complete bliss, pure and uncut, unadulterated. And all of those other silly little drugs, the tokes of weed, the shots of vodka, the little random pills—you immediately realize they were child’s play. They were nothing.
This is the real deal.
And that’s how Haisley feels to me in this moment. She’s that pure rush that I never bothered imagining. She is the real thing, and I am both attracted to and repelled by my own need for her.
I have feasted on her pussy, and she has come in my mouth, and her body collapses back against the bed.
I sit up.
We’re both breathing as if we’ve sprinted for half a mile.
“Oh…oh my god…” she gasps. Her eyes blink. Her body is coated in sweat.
I look at all of her exposed flesh and I feel like a demon, unleashed, waiting for the next meal.
She sees my gaze and leans up on an elbow. “It’s your turn,” she says softly.
“No, not yet—“
“Anything you want.” She smiles a little, hesitant but also sure of herself in a new way. A new confidence brewing already. “Take it from me. Give it to me. Do…do anything. Anything.” She swallows, knowing how big of a risk she’s taking in giving me such freedom.
Little does she know, I would never take advantage of that trust. Not the way so many men would…
But then again, the ways in which I will hurt her have nothing to do with sex. If I allow her to develop feelings for me, I will disappoint her to no end, break her fragile spirit and snuff out the innocence I see in her eyes.
This can only be about physical pleasure.
But I know that the time isn’t quite right to fuck her. Almost, not quite.
She’s still learning, she needs more time.
Yet I’m also dying to come, and I’ve lost the will to fight it. With her words, I find myself taking off my pants, dropping my boxers. I see her eyes widen at the size of my raging cock.
“Don’t worry, I won
’t be fucking you, not yet. And I won’t even make you suck it.”
“If you want…” she begins.
“Spread your legs again,” I command, my voice hoarse. “And lie back on the bed. Hold your tits.”
She lies back and grabs her tits with both hands. Spreads her legs for me.
I climb over her and begin stroking myself, talking to her. “Soon, very soon, I’m going to go deep in your pussy,” I tell her.
She closes her eyes and moans, so sexy, fingers tweaking her own pink nipples.
My cock is already slick with precum, and I stare at her wet cunt, still soaked with her juices from when I sucked her sweet pussy and clit.
“You are so pure,” I mutter.
“Just fuck me,” she cries, and I can tell she means it. “Just put the tip of your cock in me, at least. Please. Please. Just put…just a little bit…” she begs.
Dammit.
I pull her closer to me and my cock strains forward as my hips swivel towards her. My hard cock sweeps across the outer folds of her wet pussy, and we both groan with pleasure as skin meets skin.
I begin sliding my shaft over her bare pussy, and now I’m shaking, because she feels so good, I need to just penetrate her. I need to.
She wants me to, and I can see she’s ready after all.
“Just a little bit,” she says again, breathless.
“I…This wasn’t my plan…” I tell her. “Not like this. Not yet.”
“But…that’s okay,” she groans, and presses her hips upwards, straining against me, both our bodies slick and ready.
Her pussy is amazing, hot and wet.
My cock is so hard, it’s about to burst. I slowly brush the head of it over her folds, and then it dips ever so slightly into her channel.
We both sigh, and I push further in. She moans and groans, and she’s so tight, so fucking slick and needy for me, I begin fucking her before I even realize what I’m doing.
Haisley makes a small strangled sound in her throat, and squeezes her eyes shut as I plunge all the way into her, and I ask her if she’s okay.
“Yes,” she nods.
“Hurt?”
She shakes her head no.
God, it’s better than I could have ever believed. I go slow, I force myself to, even though everything in me wants to come, wants to unleash the beast within.