Climax

by Holly Hart

I reach around my back, and unclip my bra strap in one quick, practiced movement. It loosens, letting my breasts sinks forward an inch, and I jerk my right shoulder forward, then my left, to free up the bra straps. They topple off and hang loose around my arms.

  “I wish you’d let me record this,” Harlan whispers. “But there’s no need. I’ll be replaying this in my mind all day.”

  That comment – a pure, untainted honesty – sends a shiver running through me. I know it’s true. The way Harlan spoke those words – there’s no way he could be telling a lie.

  For the first time in my life, I feel attractive, I feel wanted.

  And I feel horny.

  I’m half-tempted to take Harlan up on his offer. Maybe I don’t care about the world finding out that I can be a secret slut. Maybe sexual satisfaction is worth paying that price?

  “Put it on,” Harlan says, the tempo of his voice picking up.

  I crouch down, and pluck the black lace panties from inside the gift box. They are gossamer thin – more string and lace than anything else. I step into them, and slowly – deliberately – pull them up my thighs.

  Next I put on the bra. It’s a man’s idea of what a bra should be – all lace and no support. But I can tell from Harlan’s labored breathing that it’s having the effect he desired.

  And I’m becoming the woman he desires.

  I fasten the clasp, juggling the cell phone in the crook of my neck.

  “There,” I whisper coyly into the phone. “Is that what you wanted to see?”

  There’s a long pause during which – I imagine, in full, luxurious detail – Harlan’s forced to readjust his pants.

  “No,” he replies, dealing me a blow that he quickly salves. “It’s so much more. But…”

  “But what?” I reply, a touch of anxiety infecting my voice. I wince, hating the way I sound.

  “But you better get dressed, Skye,” Harlan laughs, “Because Tyler’s coming down the corridor.”

  Shit, Tyler…

  I hear a click as Harlan hangs up the phone. For a second I just stand there, stunned that he’s abandoned me after putting me in this situation. But I don’t have time to reflect, or to feel irritation.

  Bastard.

  I unfreeze myself, drop the phone, and dive for my discarded clothing. I step into my skirt, wriggling and squirming as I pull it up my body and fasten it at my waist. Then it’s the shirt’s turn. I throw it onto my shoulders messily, do the buttons up in a hurry – just hoping they are in the right order – and desperately tuck it in.

  I hear Tyler’s footsteps outside, now. I know he’s going to do what he does every morning – poke his head around my door and ask me if I need anything. In a panic, I kick at the discarded underwear and the gift wrapped box, hiding them underneath the nearby treatment couch.

  And not a moment too soon. I hear a click at the door and turn away, pretending to focus on something on my desk as I glance down my front to see if I look presentable.

  Barely.

  “Hey, boss?” Tyler’s soft voice asks. “You need a coffee?”

  “I’m fine, Tyler,” I snap, more irritably than I intend … my heart still racing from the events of the last few minutes. I soften it. “Come back in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Skye,” Tyler replies, sounding chastened.

  “Oh, and Tyler?”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Don’t open my mail for a while, okay?”

  Chapter Ten

  Harlan

  I prowl the hallways like a caged animal, like the wolf I am.

  The last eight hours have been torture. Ever since I saw – made – Skye undress in her office this morning, my cock has been ready to explode. I don’t know what it is about her – perhaps her fiery red hair, or those stunning, sultry blue eyes that freeze my soul every time she looks at me.

  Whatever it is, it’s driving me insane. I need her.

  More importantly, I need to fuck her.

  I storm through the hallways of my hedge fund’s office building. Employees dance out of my way when they look up and see the expression on my face. I’m a man on a mission, and no prick’s going to get in my way.

  Then I see Skye. My heart does a fucking backflip.

  I turn the last corner before her office, see her assistant’s empty desk; see the goddess herself glancing down at the screen of her smart phone. She looks like a damn oil painting, or a modernist sculpture, alive with life and color.

  And perhaps, even, a confidence I didn’t see in her a few days ago.

  I walk towards her with purpose. At the last second before I reach her, Skye looks up, and she flinches at the sight of me.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, taking a step forward so that I invade Skye’s personal space. I don’t need to do it, but I want to. I want Skye to understand that with her, it’s not a choice – it’s a need. I’m a man who gets what I want, and I’ve already waited too long to claim this woman.

  Skye flicks her hair back, and seems to take a deep breath before she replies.

  “I’ve got a spin class,” she says, in a voice that’s almost daring me to argue. So I do.

  “Cancel it,” I growl. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  Skye doesn’t agree straight away, but then again – she doesn’t argue either. The look on her face is pensive, almost as though she’s considering it, but caught between two minds.

  “I can’t,” she finally says.

  But I barely hear her. I can’t help but drink in her perfect, sculpted features. The way her burning red hair glimmers and shines as she tosses her head, or those eyes, those eyes I can’t ignore.

  “Why are you staring?”

  I bite my lip, take another step forward and place my lips no more than half an inch from Skye’s ear. I’m so close to her skin that my breath sways strands of her hair like a storm swaying the canopy in the jungle. Skye shivers.

  “I’m wondering what you look like underneath that skirt, Skye,” I say.

  I trace a finger down the side of her torso, and make a fist with satisfaction as I see the breath catches in her lungs. Skye ducks her head away from my closeness, but it’s a half-hearted reaction. She lingers before pulling away, then gestures at a security camera just above her office door.

  “Don’t you already know?” She says, her voice laced with pluck.

  Why does she keep resisting? Why won’t she give in to what we both know she wants? She’s making this more than a game for me – it’s a competition, and I’m playing to win.

  “Why are you here?” Skye asks.

  “You know that,” I say flatly, “to have you.”

  I step forward with purpose, grabbing Skye’s hips. Her eyes widen as she realizes what I’m about to do. I pull her towards me, pressing my body against hers, pressing her close enough that she can’t help but feel the hardness she’s inflicted on me all fucking day.

  Then I kiss her.

  I kiss her like she’s the only girl I’ve ever seen, like she’s the last girl left on earth. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the only girl on this planet for me. If I had to repopulate the world with her, I’d do it with pride.

  My tongue grazes Skye’s bottom lip, prying its way in. I bite her bottom lip and growl with satisfaction as Skye presses her body against mine. A little cry of delight escapes her lips.

  “Someone could be watching,” she whispers, pulling away from my touch and glancing nervously up at the security camera above us. I know she wants this, I know she wants me, her body is vibrating like a taut guitar string after a long solo.

  Yet, still she resists me.

  “Let them watch,” I growl, driven on by my desire to have this girl, to possess her. “They can watch all they want, but they know I’m the boss. If word got out, I’d ruin them. I’d do anything to protect you, Skye. You had better believe that.”

  I push her against her office door, and then push it closed in my desire to have her.

  This time, a
s if swayed by the force of my personality knocking her defenses over like a tidal wave, Skye doesn’t resist.

  All I hear is the hurried, ragged panting of her breath. She kisses me back when my lips touch hers, but it’s almost as though she’s overcome as my hands roam her body freely, as if she doesn’t know what to do.

  And then, like being pummeled by a champion boxer, it hits me.

  Skye doesn’t know what to do. Of course she doesn’t. She’s not an expert in this particular field of human emotion– even if she is in every other.

  “Let me lead,” I whisper.

  Skye looks up at me mutely. The sight of those glittering blue eyes chills me. In that one, tiny motion, this, gorgeous woman has placed all of her trust in me. It’s a heavy, terrifying – but exhilarating – responsibility.

  She might not be a virgin, but she’s the next best thing. I’m going to give her the orgasm she’s never had before. And I’m going to make it everything she’s been missing all these years.

  “Okay,” Skye says, wetting her lower lip. “I think… I think I’m ready.”

  I have Permission.

  Skye’s statement kicks me into overdrive. I’ve been building up to this all day. I’m so goddamn horny I feel like I might explode at any second.

  I take the lead, moving Skye’s body like we’re ballroom dancing. I press her forward, loop one leg around hers as she steps back, and kick it out, then cradle her weight until I lower her – unresisting – against her very own treatment couch.

  She stares up at me with a look I can scarcely describe. It’s a strange, intoxicating mixture of hope, trepidation and overpowering desire.

  “I want to see you again,” I say. “All of you.”

  Skye nods. This time, she starts to undress without me needing to command it. She looks almost in a trance as she unbuttons her shirt, and the tiny, lacy bra I watched her put on this morning comes into view.

  My cock jumps at the sight of it. I’m forced to close my eyes for a second to recover. God, her pale skin is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I want to kiss those freckles, scrape my fingernails down them until the tender red marks on her skin join up like a spider’s web.

  “Now the skirt,” I say. But it’s not an order, not a question so much as my hopes becoming sound.

  As Skye moves, her shirt falls from her shoulders and lies around her body, exposing her naked skin and the barely-there bra that decorates her breasts more than covers them.

  Just the way I wanted it.

  “You’re goddamn beautiful, Skye,” I say, not bothering to lower my voice. My desire – the desire tenting my pants – gives it away anyway. “The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Skye says, a pang of anxiety tightening her voice. Her fingers pause as they undo her skirt.

  “I’m not lying,” I say, layering my voice with rough honesty. I glance down at the balls between my legs. “There’s the proof.”

  Skye’s eyes widen, and I choose that moment to take over. I kneel down in front of her, never looking away from those gorgeous blue eyes, as I undo her skirt, and pull the offending material down her perfect pale thighs.

  It’s difficult to restrain myself as a pale sea of her flesh reveals itself. I could take her right here, right now. I could undo my belt, flip Skye over, and have my way with her. And I know that by the end, she would be begging me not to stop.

  But I won’t.

  I’ve got something more… delicate in mind.

  I take a deep breath as I stare at her – almost – naked body. Skye follows my gaze, and then looks down at her bra. She makes a move – almost as if she’s getting ready to undo it.

  I shake my head. “Don’t,” I say. “I like the way it looks on you.”

  Skye nods, slowly, looking entranced by what I’m about to do.

  She’s right to be.

  I reach forward, and slowly tug the black lace panties down Skye’s legs. I leave them around her ankles, just resting there, tickling the skin.

  Skye gasps as the cool air of her office kisses her pussy. She squeezes her eyes shut, almost as if she’s embarrassed by what I’m seeing.

  “Don’t be,” I say, offering no explanation. Then I lean forward, scrape my fingernails down her thigh, push her legs apart and kiss her in her most sensitive spot.

  Now Skye really gasps.

  I can’t help myself any longer. I push Skye’s legs as wide apart as they will go, and then I dive in. My tongue drops to her slit, and I lick it from bottom to top. Skye moans and her head drops back, but I don’t stop. This is just the start of the delights I have planned for this perfect woman.

  “By the time I’m done with you, Skye,” I growl, offering a running commentary. “You’re not going to know what week it is, let alone the day.”

  Skye moans under my renewed attention, then – from somewhere – summons the strength to look at me. Her voice is broken from panting pleasure. “I don’t want to know the year,” she says.

  Challenge accepted.

  I stroke my index finger down Skye’s slit, marveling at how wet she is. If I didn’t know that she’s never been sent over the edge before, I wouldn’t have believed it. The way she’s responding to my body, it’s like she’s more attuned to her own pleasure than any girl I’ve ever known.

  My finger enters Skye’s pussy, and I bury it to the knuckle. Skye moans and I know that by now she’s lost in her own perfect blackness.

  I rest my free hand on Skye’s hip, and put my tongue to work, nibbling and lapping and sucking at her most sensitive spot.

  I feel the way she bucks underneath me, riding the pleasure. I write the alphabet with my tongue, concentrating, and then – like I’m playing a musical instrument – I hone in on that one, pure note.

  “Oh my God,” Skye chokes, “Harlan –!”

  I go for as long as I can, until my jaw cramps with exhaustion, and Skye’s body is decorated with a sheen of sweat.

  Skye bucks her hips forward, and presses her slit against my mouth, as if begging me, daring me to give her the orgasm she’s so desperate for. I try, I try harder than I ever have, I try until Skye’s fingernails leave deep scores on my scalp.

  But nothing works.

  Slowly, Skye’s body succumbs to exhaustion. I want to cry out, to beg her not to stop – to force her to keep going, to give herself in to the waves of pleasure I’m throwing her way.

  But she’s exhausted, spent. Her muscles are screaming out in protest, her body slick with sweat.

  You were so damn close!

  “Harlan,” Skye whispers, as she digs her fingers through my hair and drags me up her body so I can kiss her roughly on the mouth. “That was… incredible,” she says, shaking her head with amazement. “I didn’t know it could feel that good!”

  “I’m not done,” I say. I’m determined to tip Skye over, no matter what it takes. It’s like my own personal Everest.

  Skye grins, an amused smile tickling her lips. She leans forward and kisses me once again, and her intoxicating smell mixes with the taste of her juices.

  “Yes. Yes you are,” she says softly, “for tonight, anyway.”

  I’m smoldering with disappointment. I’d really – truly – thought that tonight was the night that I was going to be the answer to Skye’s wildest dreams.

  Yet I failed.

  Skye shakes her head, almost as though she’s reading my mind.

  “No, Harlan,” she says softly. “You took me closer than any man has. You’re going to be the one to give me an orgasm, I know it. I just wasn’t quite ready. Not tonight.”

  I tip my head back and groan. In the excitement of thinking I was about to give Skye the fireworks she deserves, I forgot how horny I was. My cock feels like a volcano, ready to blow.

  Skye notices. She glances down at the bulge in my pants – almost nervously, as if she’s worried what she might find.

  “Don’t tempt me,” I growl, sighing heavily and pulling away.
“Tomorrow it is. But I’ll promise you one thing, Skye – I’m not coming until you are.”

  I mean it. I’m not going to allow myself to orgasm – not until I find a way for Skye to share in the pleasure.

  Which means I’ve got a problem. A really big fucking problem.

  Because if there’s one thing I don’t know how to handle, it’s denying myself anything. At all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Skye

  I can’t take my mind off of what happened yesterday. In one night – just a few minutes, really – Harlan took me closer to that elusive, long-promised, orgasm than any man ever has. For the first time in a long time, he’s got me believing that I really could experience that kind of nirvana.

  I just hope that it’s not a false dawn. I don’t know if I would be able to take crashing back to reality after Harlan has built me up this far.

  “Down, girl,” I mutter to myself, clearing my head. I realize that I’ve been in the office an hour already, and all I’ve done is stare blankly into space contemplating what happened in this very room just a few hours ago.

  Heck, I’ve got goose bumps on my skin just thinking about it.

  The things Harlan did with his tongue…

  I didn’t know they were possible. I didn’t know a man could make me feel that way, especially when all the attentions I’ve, uh, administered to myself have failed…

  … Over and over…

  … And over again …

  No matter what toy I tried…

  But Harlan was good – unbelievably good. No man has ever pleased me like he did last night. It’s almost like someone trained him in the dark arts of going down on a woman.

  Maybe he learned it while in the SEALs?

  I picture a room full of hard, unshaved men sitting behind tiny school desks. Their faces are painted with dark camouflage paint, their bodies dripping wet from a long swim. Rifles lean against the walls, and the odd hand grenade spins lazily on the floor.

  Looking closely, every single SEAL is waggling their tongue in the air, performing complicated maneuvers with the pink organ – one second spelling an imaginary alphabet, the next performing long, lazy strokes on an imaginary clitoris.