by Holly Stone
“I’m just tired. Jet-lagged.”
“And you’re holding the handle of that bag so tightly your knuckles are white.”
“It’s got my laptop in it and I don’t want it to fall.”
Andrew reached out and ran a finger across the top of my hand in a feather-light caress and my nerves buzzed, even as I willed myself to remain unaffected. He was so close and I was so frustratingly aroused.
Then he pressed a finger gently to the side of my neck.
I could feel my pulse hammering against his skin as irrefutable evidence of what he was doing to my heart.
“Why won’t you let yourself want me,” he murmured. “Your body knows it.”
“My body isn’t in charge,” I whispered back, still not looking at him but so aware of how close he still was.
“Maybe not, but your mind is tempted too. It knows how good I can make you feel and it also knows that there’s no real risk involved. We’ve been together once. You know me and what I like. You’ll be leaving soon. It’s just one more night. One last chance to re-experience all those feelings that you’ve been craving since I left your room last night.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I hissed and he chuckled.
“Maybe, but only because I want you and I know how you make me feel. We were amazing together. Don’t you want to do it again?”
I decided at that point that Andrew Costner was a bastard. He knew the answer to his question wasn’t a hard ‘no’. He could tell that my body was craving his, but I was so conflicted. Even as my pulse beat to his rhythm my mind cowered in fear.
He gently cupped my cheek and turned my face so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “I promise I’ll make it good for you, Rebecca. I’ll give it to you just the way you like it. We’ll have fun, that’s all. Nothing heavy. Nothing to worry yourself about.” I closed my eyes against the intensity of his and then he kissed me with perfectly firm and teasing lips.
What can I say? My moment of hesitation was fractional and then I kissed him back and not reluctantly. I think I was the first to seek some tongue action and it felt so damn good I moaned into his mouth. My bag, forgotten, slipped to the floor in the frenzy of our hands and mouths, the desire between us crackling. Andrew pressed his lips against my neck, breathing hotly, while his hands tugged my hips towards him, pushing up my skirt and groping my arse greedily.
Before I knew what was happening, I was on his lap and he was pressing my pussy against his cloth-covered erection.
“Fuck, you make me so hot,” he said, unbuttoning my jacket and smoothing his hands over my thin blouse until they cupped my breasts and squeezed. I ground down against him and he groaned. “Come home with me,” he said, words interspersed with teasing kisses. All I could do was nod.
ANDREW
I knew I would change her mind. Women are no different from business deals. I can smell an opportunity and I always know when someone can be broken. Rebecca might have put on a show of resistance but it didn’t take much to get her to give in to what she really wanted.
The ride to my city apartment was fast, mainly because I was otherwise engaged with Rebecca. I’d instructed Paul, my driver, to take me home before she had agreed to another night. We could just as easily have gone to her hotel but it was less risky and I felt like having her on my home ground. Seeing her naked in my bed was too tempting a proposition.
When we pulled into the underground parking garage and the car dimmed inside, Rebecca pulled away from our frantic kissing to look out of the window.
“Where are we?” she asked, looking at me with heavy eyes, her lips swollen and wet and hair deliciously mussed.
“My place.” I smiled and she looked out of the window again.
“It’s kind of dreary. Don’t you get cold with all this concrete?”
“Very funny,” I said, smacking her lightly on the hip. “Now get off me before Paul opens the door and sees what we’ve been doing.”
Rebecca rolled herself until she was sitting next to me and proceeded to smooth her clothes and her hair. It was still very obvious what she had been up to despite her efforts but Paul wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. I’d fucked five other women on this very seat while he had been driving me around.
When the car came to a standstill, I grabbed her briefcase and moved to exit first, holding my hand out for hers. I called thanks over my shoulder to Paul and walked Rebecca to where the elevators rose from the dark underground garage hell to my large slice of penthouse heaven.
I had property in many places but this apartment was the only place I really felt at home. The decorator I chose had worked closely with me to plan a space that was sophisticated but still with elements of my own personal taste. As we rose in the elevator, Rebecca watched the numbers light up, and I wondered what she would be expecting. I wanted her to like my place.
I watched her closely as we walked into the open-plan space that I was so used to. I thought she would look around to take in the amazing thirty-foot ceiling and beautiful curved staircase, or to look at my ultra-modern kitchen but instead she headed straight to the windows, taking in the panoramic skyline view.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Amazing to have this to look at every day.” I stayed silent, watching as she took her time looking outside before she turned and scanned inside. “Is this where you live most of the time,” she asked and I nodded. “It looks like you…like I would have expected it to look.”
I smiled at that, because it wasn’t a comment about the luxury of the place or the size but about the way its style was in line with how she perceived me.
She walked towards a wall to the side of the seating area where I’d displayed a small collection of art that I loved. There was more in the upstairs rooms, particularly my study and bedroom but it was quite sparse in this main area so as not to detract from the views.
“Wow,” she said, looking them over. “These are amazing.”
“I love icons. My grandmother was Greek and she always had reproductions hanging in her home. It was nice to be able to buy originals. They remind me of her.”
“So these aren’t copies?” Her voice was full of awe and it made something inside of me bubble with warmth.
“They’re originals. All around 600 years old although some are older. Most are Greek but some Russian. I bought rare scenes. It makes them more expensive. Most have elements of gold leaf too.”
Rebecca looked at me as if she was searching for something then focussed back in on the icons. “So is that what you like? The most expensive things?”
“No, I like rare beauty. I know what I like and it might not be what others would choose but I don’t care about that.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, cautious but warm. It amused me that she was trying to get to know me with these roundabout questions. And it impressed me.
Rebecca’s hair shone in the sunlight that streamed through the windows, hanging down to where her back curved in. It was just how I liked a women’s hair to be. Natural colour, healthy, long enough to grab hold of when I’m fucking them, and so they can cover their breasts with it when they’re naked. There’s nothing like getting a glimpse of a little pink nipple or the white curve of soft flesh through the modest cover of long, sleek hair.
I licked my lips, considering how to move our encounter from art perusal to dirty, hot sex. My cock was half hard and ticking every time I looked at her ass in that fitted skirt and her legs in those shoes. I wanted to fuck her in those shoes and nothing else. The host in me realised that she wouldn’t have had any lunch and it was getting past that time. Her stomach grumbled as if it knew what I was thinking and she clutched at it looking embarrassed.
“I think I need to feed you,” I said, taking her hand and leading her across the hardwood floor to the kitchen. “Sean always prepares me a light lunch just in case I’m home.”
“Sean?”
“My chef. He lives downstairs.”
“Oh, you have staff? There was me
thinking you were going make me a bacon buttie.”
“A bacon whatie?” I asked, laughing.
“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head as if I was a clueless idiot. “Let’s see what Sean has cooked up for you.”
I left her perching on a stool at the counter and went to the fridge where the food would be waiting. Sean had prepared a delicious looking Asian salad and sushi. There was also some freshly squeezed mixed-citrus juice in a jug. Perfect.
As I spread everything in front of her she peered at each bowl and plate with interest.
“So, this is what the people on the Forbes list eat for lunch,” she said. “It looks like something I could buy from M & S!”
“M & S?” I asked, feeling a little frustrated that I wasn’t getting her attempts at humour. Rebecca grinned, taking a swallow of juice, licking her lips. I momentarily lost my train of thought.
“Marks and Spencer. They do posh food in England.”
“Ah yes, I know that.”
Rebecca giggled. “I just had an image of you popping into M & S for a nice pair of cords and some tartan slippers.”
“You don’t think I would look good in cords?” I said in mock indignation. Her raised eyebrow was comical.
We plated our lunch and I sat next to her. “So Rebecca. Is this your first time in the U.S.?”
“No. I’ve been to a couple of other cities on business. And Vegas on holiday.”
“Vegas? You don’t strike me as the Vegas type.”
“I’m not really. It was my friend’s idea…we were all turning twenty-five and she thought it would be fun to do a big quarter century party in sin city.”
“And did you sin while you were there?” I asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy at the possibility that she might have had a fling or two.
“You know, you shouldn’t ask questions if you might not like the answers,” she said with another raised eyebrow.
“You should try to answer a question with straight answer!”
“Well, there was plenty of gambling and some general gluttony and drunkenness…but that isn’t what you are asking is it?”
I popped a piece of sushi in my mouth and chewed, wondering why the hell I was proceeding down this avenue of questioning. It wasn’t like me to be all territorial about someone but that was obviously where my subconscious was at. I shook my head and changed the subject.
“Where do you live in the UK?”
“Just outside London. You wouldn’t know it. It’s a suburb. The same place I grew up. My parents live about ten minutes away and I rent my own place.”
“You don’t want to buy something?” I asked, shuddering at the waste of money renting property was.
She looked at me with amusement. “Have you seen property prices in London? I have student loans to pay off. I’ll be probably still be renting when I’m claiming my pension.”
I grimaced at my insensitivity. I’d grown up with money. My family were involved in the oil industry but I hadn’t wanted to enter the family business. Branching out on my own had been a challenge but I did it, initially with their financial backing. If I thought about whether I could have achieved what I had without any support at the start I would probably say no. Money grows money. It’s the way of the world. My family wasn’t involved in BGP anymore; I’d bought them out as soon as I could afford to, but I wasn’t so arrogant to fail to acknowledge that their backing had been crucial. Thinking about how hard it would be to start with nothing, or less than nothing; starting out with debts to repay. I didn’t like the thought of Rebecca being so exposed but we weren’t in that kind of relationship.
“Yeah,” I said vaguely. “I have a place in Kensington. I think it must be made of solid gold for how much it cost me!”
She shook her head and smirked as though amused at my comment that had sounded way more boastful out loud than it had in my head.
“You know,” she said after a while. “I take it back. This food is amazing. I feel like I’m getting healthier as I eat it!”
“Sean is worth his weight.”
“Does it always come back to gold for you?” Rebecca laughed mockingly.
“No,” I said sharply. “It always comes back to fucking.” She winced at my tone and I smiled. There was something about shocking a woman that turned me on. “Finish your food and then we’ll go and do what we came here to do.”
“Okay, boss,” Rebecca said in a terrible American accent, bringing her hand to her forehead in a clipped military salute.
“Forget the food,” I said, loving how sassy she was but wanting to wipe the smirk off her face all the same. I grabbed her wrist and tugged her to her feet, then slipped my hand into the back of her hair and gripped tightly, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips were soft and her mouth tasted of soy sauce and palm sugar; a mix of sweet and sour that was just like her.
She rested her hands on my thighs and leaned in further until her body was pressed in close to mine. I’d thought all morning about how I was going to direct things when we were together again. I’d fantasised about her hair fanned across my pillow, hands attached to the bedposts and legs spread by my hands. I thought about fucking her in front of the windows, pressing her tits against the cold glass, imagining who might be watching from other buildings. I had a telescope upstairs and I’ll admit to sometimes using it to look at things more erotic than the moon and stars.
Now that Rebecca was with me, none of those options seemed right. Our kisses were so passionate that I wanted her there and then. I wanted things to flow without the interruptions that a change of location might have brought.
I drew my hand up to unbutton her blouse but left it and her jacket on, the fabric hanging open giving me a perfect view of her lace covered breasts. Her breathing was fast as I ran my finger slowly between them and then gently followed the line of her bra to the strap. I pushed it down over her shoulder into the sleeve of her blouse. Her little pink nipple came into view, already stiff and pointed, perfect for me to flick with my tongue. Her reaction was extreme when I bit down softly, her back arching and fingers digging into my legs. And the moan that came out of her mouth made me bite down harder. I wanted to hear her cry out, maybe to hear my name on her lips, now that I was no longer a stranger to her.
I decided then I was going to have her there, in my kitchen.
Fuck it all.
REBECCA
Andrew’s mouth was suckling at my nipple, and I could feel the resulting sensations as a direct line to my clit. Looking down at him ravishing me was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Well, bar watching him hold his own cock as he had done the night before. He had both breasts out of my bra so fast it left me reeling and then, as he moved to lick and suck on each, I felt my knickers getting wet.
He was still deliciously smart in his work attire and I felt like his sexy secretary, getting ravished in my suit with my shoes still on. My knees were weak as he grasped my waist and held me tight, the swirling of his tongue leaving cool sensations in its wake. It was somehow too much and not enough.
As if he felt the same, Andrew pulled back and looked at me, cupping one of my breasts in his big strong palm. It reminded me of what he had done the night before, an action that felt affectionate and incongruous to the rest of his behaviour.
“Take off your clothes,” he said gruffly, “but keep the shoes on.”
Getting my top half naked was easy. Andrew had already done the unbuttoning so all I had to do was slip off my jacket and blouse. When I started to unzip my skirt I realised I was wearing my plain white cotton knickers – not exactly the sexiest underwear in the world but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I let my skirt slip to the floor, stepped out of it and watched Andrew’s reaction to what I was left standing in; innocent girlish undies and fuck-me heels. It was a combination he seemed to appreciate.
“Look at you,” he said with the softest expression in his eyes. He stroked my stomach, swirling his finger around my belly button which made me shiver. “I c
an’t wait to dirty up those virginal little panties. I’m gonna make you so wet, it soaks through.” He slipped a finger between my legs and his eyes flicked up to mine when he realised they already were.
He was up off his bar stool in a second, lifting me by the arse and carrying me across the room to his superb hardwood dining table. I clung around his neck, legs clutching at his waist, lips pressed against his in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. The wood was shockingly cold on my back as he laid me down, quickly pulling off his tie and fastening my hands together. I wondered if he could ever fuck without some kind of bondage involved but to be honest, I liked it. Being bound made everything sharper and naughtier. I loved that he was doing things to me that I was almost powerless to resist. It was an illusion in a way, one that I was surprised to find so arousing.
“Keep your hands above your head,” Andrew ordered and I stretched them higher to show I was listening to his command. As he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, revealing his beautiful, sculpted torso, I squirmed. “Close your legs,” he said, removing his cuff links, each movement methodical and agonisingly slow. My pussy felt hot and wet, ready and swollen, and since it already knew what Andrew’s cock felt like, it was more torturous waiting for him to give it to me. The clink of his belt buckle rang out in the echoingly large space, and then his trousers were open and I felt like I couldn’t breathe with the anticipation. As he dropped his trousers, he leant forward and kissed my belly just above the line of my knickers, holding his mouth there and bearing down. The pressure pulled the skin of my tummy, drawing my clit against the fabric, making me squirm. “God you smell amazing,” he said. “I have your little pink lacy panties on my nightstand and I breathed in the smell of your pussy when I jacked off last night.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It was horny as fuck and a little bit pervy. Was I wrong to think that was a good combination?
I could hear him toeing off his shoes and pulling at his socks, and then he stood straight again, holding his cock through the fabric of his dark-grey tight boxers rubbing it slowly, considering me spread before him. “I think I want you blindfolded,” he said as though talking to himself. “Yeah.” He looked around and then walked to the kitchen, returning with a tea towel which he folded over and over until it was around three-inches wide; the perfect width to cover my eyes. I’d never given over so much control to someone during sex. Losing my vision under these circumstances frightened me a little but as he fixed it round my head he stroked my hair so gently that I didn’t object.