by Barbra Novac
Just at the point of coming, her pussy convulsed around his cock. Her rhythmic breathing hadn't changed. She was still sleeping deeply, but Peter gasped at the intensity of the long orgasm she wrapped around his hard length. The eroticism of the moment became too much, and he spilled into her, trying not to make noise and wake her. His orgasm stayed measured, less frantic than the earlier one. It had the leisurely quality of rest and sensuality about it.
After his orgasm, his penis slipped out of her again, their mingled juices dripping slightly from the tip. She wasn't making any sounds, just the heavy breathing of a contented sleep.
Amazing. He'd never seen anything like that in his life. He lay behind her again, feeling her breasts as they came to life again in his hands.
Lying there in the dark of the room, with her body pressed against his, Peter had no idea what could be possible for the two of them. He knew, though, that they'd had this moment, even if there were never anymore, and the memory of this moment would last him forever.
Chapter Five
Peter's arm around her body, cupping her breast, woke Marianne to the dawn of the morning after. She didn't want to move. She wanted some sort of permanent reassurance that this moment had authenticity before she risked any movement that might prove it didn't. She didn't know she could feel this way about a man, particularly in such a short space of time.
What went on between them last night felt foreign and like coming home at once. Yet the experience seemed to come out from inside her, as if it had always been there. She felt safer than she ever had, but the exhilaration of fear sat alongside the safety. A surge of new life coursed through her. It took her to a place beyond excitement, more akin to the pleasure of accomplishment.
As she started to wake up, listening to his deep breathing as he slept, she realized more and more who and what she had been last night. With a commanding voice, he had called her his little slut, and even in the cold morning light, it felt like an incitement to sex rather than an insult. She wanted to be his little slut. Nothing seemed as exciting as belonging to the man who appeared to know her better than she knew herself.
Lifting her head slightly, she looked at the clock. Seven-thirty in the morning. Too early to be up on a Sunday, she decided. A thrill ran through her as she realized the day could bring anything. Last night she saw how existence could suddenly change, and the jury was out on the implication that would have on her life.
Then a knot tightened in her stomach. Maybe nothing would change at all.
He said he wanted to date her at the end of the trial, but then he slept with her. The signals were confusing. It made it difficult to know what he wanted with her, and even more complicated to know what he expected of her. She didn't even know what she wanted from the situation yet. The trial confused everything. Rationality had to play some part in the way they conducted themselves. Marianne decided she would discuss it with him like an adult when he woke up. Until then, she would just enjoy every little moment she had here.
Thinking over the entire night, wrapped in his arms in bed and warm from their mutually naked bodies, she could not resist a little self-analysis. What the hell happened to me last night?
She'd never been on a date like this in her life. I didn't know there were dates like this! A feeling crept over her of being almost provincial, naive, and inexperienced. But then, she had always been Joe's woman, and who would approach her? Being with Joe cut her off from more than just her freedom. Her sexual history wasn't conventional, but she had only the experience of one man before Peter.
Nevertheless, through Joe, and through bright, attentive observation, she'd watched men and women. Most love affairs started with lust, and once that dulled, little remained to sustain the intimacy of the relationships. Those observations were enough to convince her of the rarity of this new connection. The excitement of Peter's game and its seriousness thrilled her, but that he knew intuitively she would respond in the way she did energized her. With plenty of scope for freshness, there was so much on which to build. How she had given him the impression of what lurked inside her, and how he knew all of this so deeply, felt mysterious and rare.
While in the restaurant, he read her motivations for frequenting The Pleasure Chest so clearly that she felt profoundly seen by him. Marianne wanted to trust his version of her. Somehow, in some way, he knew her. He understood her.
Marianne had never felt as though she were different from other women. She really didn't have a normal kind of life by which to compare. She only ever knew women like Jen, who she befriended, or women who were strippers or prostitutes.
Having little to compare it with, it never occurred to her that the visits to the sex shop or the relationship she had with Joe were unusual.
It dawned on her that, due to the extreme pleasure she'd experienced the night before, she might be a certain type of girl.
Could it be…that I'm…kinky? she thought.
At this point in her introspection, Peter's watch started to omit small bell noises, and Peter rolled over immediately to quiet it.
“It's okay, darling. I'm awake,” said Marianne softly, wondering if he could still be “darling” first thing the morning after.
Rolling back to where he'd been, Peter let out a sleepy sigh and reached over for her breast as he cushioned into her back.
“Mmm… Such a nice breast. Such a nice way to wake up,” he said. He nuzzled into her hair.
She didn't want to hop out of bed, but she had to pee. Taking his hand from her breast, she lifted it to her lips and kissed it, then moved it over to his body and swung her legs across the side of the bed as she sat up.
“Where are you going?” Peter called, half asleep.
“I am just going to the toilet. I'll be back soon.” She left the bed, looking at Peter's lazy smile as he got a little more shut-eye.
After visiting the toilet, Marianne wandered into her kitchen to get a glass of water for them both. Crossing the lounge room, she glanced over to see Peter's suit coat hung over the back of the couch.
Better in the hall cupboard, she thought.
Setting the glasses down, she walked over to the jacket and attempted to grab it by the collar. Missing that completely, she nudged it instead and tipped it over the back of her couch.
Marianne leaned over the back, hoping the dust behind the couch had miraculously disappeared, and grabbed the coat by the tail, it being the easiest thing to reach. As she pulled it over the back of the couch, papers fluttered out of the pockets.
After taking the coat to the cupboard where her suit coats and jackets hung, she went back to the couch to pick up the papers and hand them to Peter. As she lifted them off the ground, she noticed Joe's handwriting on the top of a folded page.
Before she even read the note Joe had sent Peter, Marianne's belly started to tighten. Clenching told her to expect bad news. Discretion flew out the window. Even though she knew she should put the note back, she also knew she would be reading it. Good or bad, she wanted to know why Peter carried a note from Joe.
Turning the note, Marianne read:
I will summon Marianne on Saturday night. Be here early. You know the plan to follow with her. This letter will get you in without a search. J.
Marianne felt the blood drain from her face. Maybe the confrontation suddenly with the relationship between Peter and Joe hit her too hard. Maybe seeing her name on the page filled her with fear. Whatever it was, Marianne's head started to go crazy with uncertainties and accusations against Peter.
Is sleeping with me part of the plan?
If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. How could he have been so attracted to her so fast? Why did he compromise the hearing, his client, and even his career by sleeping with her? She'd been distrustful of him at the start. Again Marianne had the nagging suspicion that she'd read too much into the situation.
Why didn't I follow my initial instincts? They're always right.
Marianne wanted to sink into t
he couch and cry for how foolish she'd been and for what she thought she had found and then lost. The connection between them had seemed to be so real; she'd allowed her dreams to run away with her. She could see that here, a mature woman still longed for Prince Charming to come in on his white steed. That foolish vulnerability had made her available for Joe to manipulate, using Peter. The hard evidence before her revealed a connection between Peter and Joe beyond the legal one and a mutual plan they shared for her. Desperate for hot sex, she had walked right into it, without thinking anything through.
Mechanically, she moved over to the cupboard and put the bundle of papers back into his pocket. Her mind raced through recent events from a different perspective now. She'd not actually seen Don; she'd just believed Peter's story. Maybe the whole thing had been an elaborate scheme to get her close to Peter, and therefore, close to Joe.
For Marianne, this new perspective seemed far more plausible. She couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to believe everything Peter had said to her. This little activity (except for the fantastic sex) had Joe written all over it. First he'd perform the double cross, then the lying, and then the sneaking around. Joe had never been up front, and she'd been a fool to let herself get so close to someone who worked for Joe, even if his payment didn't come from the payroll.
“Hey! Are you coming back?”
She heard the voice from the bedroom and realized Peter must be wondering what happened to her. She decided not to let on she'd read the note. If they really wanted to be sure of her, she felt safer playing into Peter's hands. Letting them think they had her where they wanted, rather than letting them know their plan didn't work. That would only inspire them to try something else to silence her, and that might not be nearly as nice as what happened to her last night.
She picked up the glasses of water she'd placed down and headed toward the bedroom, her heart pounding.
“I just wanted to get you a glass of water.” She smiled as she handed it to him. He looked beautiful. His firm, muscled chest, exposed over the top of the sheet, held a promise as the rest of the sheet hung seductively over his genitals and legs. She glanced at the bulge between his thighs.
“I want more than a glass of water, gorgeous.” Peter pulled the sheet back to reveal a huge erection. It looked as though it were made of cast iron. His voice deepened. “Come and play with me. I want to feel you coming.”
Marianne stared at his enormous, engorged cock, and her pussy started to quiver. Fluid ran into her mouth, and she could feel the blood pumping into her nipples. She felt betrayed by her entire body. Her mind reeled, but she wanted him so much.
What the hell? she thought grimly. I may as well get some pleasure out of this.
Marianne had done this kind of thing before. These lies and games were an intricate part of Joe's world, and therefore part of her world too. She'd gone to bed with Joe knowing he'd slept with other women that very day in their bed, and she'd survived. These games were second nature to her, so that even now, she felt sure she could still take pleasure from Peter's body.
The unexpected occurred again, however, and Peter noticed her mood.
“Are you okay? Is there anything wrong?” Peter looked at her intently.
His eyes weren't smoldering; they were concerned, as if he had seen or felt something in her that might be out of alignment. He reached out and took both of the glasses of water from her, then placed them on the nightstand. Turning back, he took her hand and guided her to the side of the bed.
“Something is wrong with you. I can see it. We need to talk before we make love. The way I want to fuck you is… Well, it's not consistent with feelings of insecurity or fear. You have to trust very deeply if we are to play. And I can see something is wrong.”
This had never happened to Marianne before. If Joe had ever noticed her moods, he never took an interest in them, as dealing with her intuition would inevitably lead to his exposure. Peter's interest caught her completely off guard. Despite her resolution to remain aloof, she stumbled into the warmth Peter created.
“I saw the note. I saw the note in your pocket. The note that Joe wrote to you about having plans for me.”
Peter looked puzzled at first, then the cloud lifted, and realization moved over his face. “The note that said stuff about following our plan?”
“Yes.”
“And you think I'm sleeping with you as part of this plan?”
“Yes.” The nerve-wracking nature of this conversation started to take its toll. Marianne could understand why Joe preferred to ignore them.
Peter held her hand and looked hard at her. He seemed to be thinking something through. “You know, I could accuse you of the same thing.”
She glanced up at him in surprise.
“You were in danger. If you sleep with me, I will work hard to protect you as well as win the case to get Joe off your back. It's in your interest to sleep with me.”
Marianne felt a little irritated. “I don't have a note in my pocket from your sworn enemy telling me to play games with you. It's not quite the same.”
Peter's steady gaze rested on her. He continued with his point as if she'd never spoken.
“This is actually unethical. You are the key witness in this case, and I may have placed my career at risk by sleeping with you. Do you really think that would be a strategy that I would agree to with Joe?”
That made sense. Once she realized he'd risked something, she felt a little better. “But the note…”
“He wrote that note before I met you. Joe thought you were going to marry him, remember? He assured me that plan would work. I don't think my team would be very impressed if the best strategy I come up with is to sleep with you. Let alone the partners in my firm!”
Relief flooded over Marianne. “That all makes sense. I see where you're coming from.”
“It still leaves us with an obvious dilemma, though, doesn't it?” Peter's expression hadn't changed. He still looked just as concerned.
“What's that?”
“There can't be trust between us until this hearing is over. We won't be sure of where the other one is coming from, because there is too much to be gained from each other besides a possible relationship.”
Even though he held her hand, it felt cool to her, like his words. She wondered if she had offended him. He seemed to be distant now. Looking over at him, those deep, dark eyes still penetrated her, but now they looked anxious and a little troubled.
She didn't enjoy seeing his eyes like that, but he made his point well. His arguments were plausible but they didn't appease her intuitively. Despite herself, Marianne looked down at his chest. She couldn't reconcile another feeling that lay within her.
The reaction started as a stirring deep in the pit of her belly. A slow heat moved over her, and she felt as if her nerve endings were smoldering. She couldn't help letting her eyes travel a little lower and steal a glance at his erection, which she saw had not faded. It looked strong and proud and called to her.
“I still want to make love to you right now,” she said, looking longingly at his cock.
He gave a small chuckle that forced her to take her eyes away from his penis and look into his eyes again.
“I don't think I could avoid that if I tried, Marianne.” He leaned forward as she turned her head and kissed her softly on the mouth.
“I have a suggestion,” he said in a breathy voice, so that she could feel him on her lips as well as hear him in her ears.
“What is it?” she whispered back.
“Let's take a shower together.”
She grinned into his kiss, and he reached up and ran his fingers through her hair until his hand touched the back of her head. Then he grabbed her hair, pushed her face harder to him, and kissed her passionately.
He pulled his face back slightly while holding her head firmly by the hair.
“I want you brave, little girl. I'm going to get you to say and do things for which you need courage.”
He
slid his other hand up the inner thigh of her leg, until he reached her pussy. She radiated heat; the wetness had already started to oil its way down the inside of her thigh.
“Mmmm… Bad little girl likes to play these games.” He moved the flat of his fingers into her wet slit. “Bad little girl wants to be fucked, don't you?”
Marianne groaned out “Yes” as Peter slid two fingers into her wet opening. The relief of his hand matched the wild nature of his words.
Peter started to pump his fingers in and out of her.
“One day, I will let strangers watch as I pump things in and out of you.” He pulled his fingers out and moved his hand away. “But right now, I want a shower with you.”
As if he had tipped cold water over her head, Marianne woke out of her daze to see him getting up out of bed. She got up also and walked toward the door of the bathroom. As soon as she got into the room, she felt Peter behind her, licking her neck in long, sensuous strokes and pressing his hard body into her.
As Peter kissed her and ran his hands over her, she reached up into the shower to turn it on. She soon got the water flowing, not too hot and not too cold. Stepping in, Peter followed her, his erection standing strongly out from the rest of his body.
The hot water did nothing to satiate her lust. The sensuality of the drips, the warmth of the stream, the clouded protection of the steam, and Peter kissing her and kissing her gave her the same feeling of being in another world. She found that she started to float off, swept up in a leisurely, sensory explosion.
The eroticism of the water combined with some relief in her confidence in Peter's genuineness. There were no illicit reasons behind his trying to get her into bed, other than the most illicit of all: he wanted to take advantage of her in the best possible way. The moment made her want to give something back. She thought she'd better ask first, however. “Peter, I'm not sure of the rules. Can I go down there”—here she pointed to the floor of the shower—“and do things to you, or do you direct every time?”