Secret Seductress (What's Her Secret?)

by Geraldine O'Hara

  I lightly pinched his nipples between fingers and thumbs, watching his face with every gentle tug and twist. I could only imagine he had his eyes closed. His mouth was a tight line, as though he were fighting with inner thoughts or his conscience. He groaned, just a small one, but it was enough for me to know he liked tit play.

  “So you like that,” I said, “and I know you like this.” I leaned forward and took one nipple into my mouth, treated him to the same as he’d had in The Rusty Nail.

  He smelled of Beck’s and aftershave—a scent I found wholly sexy—and I moaned myself. My doing that had him scrunching my hair tight, pulling it so my head bent to one side. The act set my clit to throbbing, my cunt getting wet. I eased back, taking his nipple with me, and he groaned again, louder, and for longer this time. As I suckled and nipped, I undid the button on his jeans then drew down his zip. I wanted to see his cock, not just feel it, so I released his nipple then looked down.

  He didn’t wear boxer shorts. His cock jutted out from between the opening of his jeans, the zip like tiny gold teeth either side of it. I was suddenly jealous of those teeth so I swooped my head down and licked up the length of him, my tongue wide and flat. God, he tasted good, and as my tongue reached the tip his dick jerked. I swirled around the top while he pressed his fingertips to my head, and I brought one hand up to hold him at his base. Opening my mouth, I plunged down on him, going as far as I could until the end hit the back of my throat. I pulled up, suction hard, and smiled around him as he moaned again.

  “You’re good at that,” he said breathlessly, putting more pressure on my head.

  I allowed him to direct how it went—the depth, the speed—and it seemed he wanted it done slowly. I clenched my cunt muscles—this was getting to me—and tiny flickers pulsed in my clit. He pressed his inner thighs against me, pinning me there, and with my free hand I reached up to tweak his nipple once more. He let go of my hair, going by feel alone, sliding two fingertips down my cheek then lower to skim the top of my chest. His touch burned. He stilled at the corset, feeling it as much as he was able due to my hunched-over position.

  “Leather,” he said. “Christ, you’re wearing leather.”

  I bobbed on his cock, sucking him harder.

  He swept his fingers across the swells of my breasts spilling over the top of the corset, then encountered the zip. He tugged on it, opened it a little, and slid his hand inside.

  Oh, fuck. Him feeling me there sent a spear of lust to my cunt, and I jolted, his cock going deeper. He found my nipple and rubbed over it, coaxing it into a harder peak. I pinched his, hoping he’d get the message. He did and pinched mine, a gentle, massaging sensation. I leaned into his hand, silently asking for harder handling. He pinched again, several times, short, sharp tweaks that had my arousal sparking. I moaned around his cock, drawing upwards, then took him out of my mouth.

  I leaned back so he could have more space and wanked him to the rhythm of my squeezes to his nipple. He matched my speed and strength, and I couldn’t hold back the urge any longer. I moved forward and kissed him, a soft meeting of lips that made my tummy roll with my excitement. He parted his lips, and I pushed my tongue inside, twining it with his and tasting another part of him.

  “You need to stop that,” he said against my mouth. “Stop that on my dick.”

  I was pleased at having got him so riled up, so ready for it. “And you need to stop pulling my hair. It sets me off.”

  He pulled harder. “What, like that?”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  “I know who you are,” he said. “You should stop playing games now.”

  I hesitated for a second, working out what to say. “I’m not playing any games. I’m getting ready to fuck you.” I licked his lips, slowly, deliberately stalling for time.

  “I recognize your perfume. And I smelled the Chinese when Gary brought me here.”

  “I haven’t had a Chinese,” I said.

  “So you are playing games.”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re just not answering me truthfully.”

  I licked his lips again, streaked my tongue to his earlobe and sucked it inside my mouth so it stopped me from saying anything that would give me away. He was guessing, that was all, hoping I’d slip up and let the cat out of the bag.

  “I want to see you,” he said. “Let me take the blindfold off.”

  My stomach lurched. If he did, the pretense would be over. There would be no more hiding behind Pussy Pwoar.

  “All right,” I said. “But wait a moment.”

  I let go of his cock and nipple then rose, going to walk over by the door. I caught sight of the rose so went and picked it up, then returned to the door and stood with my back to him. I let my hair down. Put my hands at the small of my back and held the rose so it settled over the crack of my arse, the flower pointing downwards. Bent over slightly to hide my face with my hair. He’d never know it was me in this position, and he’d never been in my flat, so I was safe there too.

  My legs shook, as did my hands. “Take the blindfold off.”

  Please let him look then put it back on. I can’t go through with this if he sees my face.

  “Very nice,” he said. “Turn around.”

  “No. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? I mean, I’ve got a lovely view of your arse from here, and going by the feel of your tit, the front view is going to be everything I’ve imagined it would be.”

  “You barely know me. You haven’t had time to imagine.”

  “It only takes a second for thoughts and images to form, Miss Pwoar.”

  Why had he emphasized that name? I felt a bit worried. I mean, what if he didn’t put the blindfold back on?

  “That’s enough,” I said. “Cover your eyes now.”

  “All right. Give me a second.”

  I waited, my thigh muscles straining, my back beginning to ache.

  “Okay, it’s back on.”

  “I don’t believe you.” And how could I check without revealing my face?

  The full-length mirror. I glanced across—and stared straight into his eyes. Oh, God, he’d been watching me all this time, had known it was me, just like he’d said.

  “Hello, Mandy love,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Oh, bollocks. My secret was well and truly discovered. How could I have thought I’d be able to pull this off? What on earth had I been thinking? I could no more have kept this secret to myself than stop breathing. I’d have wanted more—did want more—and just being with him in the pub as mates wouldn’t have been something I could handle. And the others, they knew I was Pussy. Who was to say they’d keep their mouths shut? Something would slip out eventually.

  I wondered if I’d ever get the chance of having him slip out of me after he’d fucked me silly. And the slipping in—God, I wanted that so badly.

  What was I supposed to do now, though? Act like Pussy when I was feeling like Mandy? This wasn’t meant to have happened. I’d planned to fuck him and keep the secret to myself forever, smiling when we were together in the pub—especially if he went on about how Pussy had been such a good-time girl, the best he’d had. Like he’d have said that anyway. Who was I kidding?

  Myself, as usual.

  “Umm, hello,” I said.

  “I had a feeling it was you in the pub,” he said. “Only, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, know what I mean? I smelled you then, but I didn’t think—”

  “Didn’t think what?” I held my breath—and my tits, covering them with trembling hands because, well, I was so exposed owing to the front of the corset half hanging open. What on earth must he think of me? A tramp, most probably.

  He blushed a bit. “Didn’t think you’d even want to touch me, even for a joke.”

  “What?” How could he think that? He was bloody gorgeous. Any woman who had the chance to fondle him was a fool if she turned him down.

  “You heard me…Pussy.”

  I let out a r
ush of air. “But I’m not Pussy, am I? I’m just boring, plain old Mandy. Some silly cow who had high notions of you wanting to, you know, have it away with me.” I swallowed, trying to clear the tightness in my throat.

  “But I do want to have it away with you. Have done for ages. It’s just that us being friends and whatnot…didn’t think you’d want to know.”

  “Of course I do, but I didn’t expect… Look at me, for God’s sake! Dressed up like a dog’s dinner, in clothes meant for someone sexier than I’ll ever be.”

  “You’re sexy to me. Mandy or Pussy, makes no odds what you call yourself. Come here.”

  Crap it, my legs chose that moment to bend beneath me, all rubbery and numb.

  “If it helps,” he said, “I’ll put the blindfold back on.”

  Would it help? I didn’t think so—he’d still know I was Mandy and so would I. Much as I wanted it to, it wasn’t going to work.

  “All right then,” I said, despite my misgivings.

  He slid it back over his eyes.

  Now what?

  “Pretend to be Pussy again,” he said. “Go on, you can do it. Rewind a bit, tell yourself I never saw you. Act like you would have done if I hadn’t known it was you.”

  “Even though you did anyway.”

  “Pretend that wasn’t the case too. Just…do your thing.”

  My thing? It’d been so long since I’d been in a room with a man that I’d forgotten what my thing was. If sprawling out on the bed in a drunken stupor with my tights around my ankles and my bra draped over my face counted as my thing, then that was it.

  “My thing isn’t exactly an attractive sight,” I said. “So I think I’ll have a good go at being Pussy. She’s not like me, she’s…sophisticated.”

  “Then be sophisticated. Mandy, I’ll take you whoever you decide to be.”

  Bloody Nora, he’d sounded so sincere I could almost convince myself he’d meant it. If he’d wanted me for ages, why the hell hadn’t I picked up on it? Was he that good at hiding things? Like me? I hadn’t let him in on my secret either, that I’d thought about him every night before I drifted off to sleep and, if I was being totally honest, all the times in between. God, what a sad case.

  I stared at him. He was waiting, so patient, his expression, from what I could see around the blindfold, one of calm expectancy. This was my chance, wasn’t it? My one big chance to show him what I was made of. I swallowed again—bloody butterflies in my throat—and closed my eyes for a moment. I sank into how I’d felt when I’d been Pussy, all sexy as sin and a woman who knew exactly what she was after. Leon was so drop-dead lush that I had to become a super-wanton bird if I were to convince him to want to fly with me.

  I remembered the things I’d said to him as I’d knelt between his legs. My cheeks heated—God, how they heated—yet just a few minutes had passed between then and now, so how hard could it be to go back to that?

  About as hard as his cock.

  I widened my eyes. He’d stayed hard. Did wearing a blindfold turn him on that much? Maybe not being able to see sharpened the senses, made soft bits inflate and raring to go.

  Good grief…

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked in my Pussy-low tones.

  That’s it, talk just like that. You can do this, Mandy.

  “You,” he said.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking—all of it.” I paused, clearing my throat. “I want to see what you’re seeing.”

  “I can see you standing there, right where you are now, and you’re taking your corset off. Do it, Pussy. Take it off.”

  Fuck me sideways…

  “Okay.”

  I moved my hands from my breasts and undid the rest of the zip. The relief was massive—the corset had been tighter than I’d thought—and my boobs burst out like no one’s business. I stared down at them and wondered how he’d see them.

  Would he like them?

  “I can hear you, hear the leather creaking,” he said.

  “So what else can you see?”

  “You throwing the corset on the bed then taking your knickers off.”

  Oh, God… His voice, it sends me to Want Sex City.

  I tossed the garment to the bed, just as he’d said, and pushed my knickers down my legs. Air rushed to my cunt and cooled it, and I suppressed a shiver at standing there naked with my underwear pooled at my ankles. If he took that blindfold off now…

  “Step out of them,” he said. “Then come over here—and bring the rose with you.”

  I did as he’d asked, flicking my knickers off my foot, alarmed that they flew through the air and landed on top of the bedside lamp.

  “Leave them there,” he said.

  “You’ve got exceptional hearing if you can tell where they landed,” I said, voice drenched in need. And my word, I needed him.

  “Get the rose and come here, Pussy.”

  I shuddered—what the hell was it about him that set me off like that? I was just about ready to do anything he wanted—anything at all.

  I collected the rose and walked over to him, my legs refusing to behave as they usually would. They were beyond rubbery now, and if he did have the luxury of sight, I wouldn’t look too appealing, staggering over to him like I’d forgotten how to conduct myself. The heels weren’t helping either, so I stopped a few inches in front of him and bent to take them off.

  “Don’t you dare,” he said. “You’re going to fuck me with them on.”

  He could see, couldn’t he?

  “Is that blindfold see-through?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Then how…?”

  “Just do what I say, when I say it, Pussy. Give me the rose.”

  Lord, he had a commanding tone, one I never would have suspected he would own. Oh, I’d heard it in my pre-sleep imaginings, had him behaving just like this, in fact, but to actually have him speaking like it, acting this way for real?

  I handed the rose over. “What else can you see, Leon?” My voice had gone down a note, and I worried I’d sounded like a man.

  “You getting a condom and putting it on my cock.”

  I took in a deep breath, went to my bag and ferreted around for a condom. I found one in the side compartment, then returned to stand in front of him. Feeling bolder and wanting to pre-empt him, I tore the top strip off then knelt between his legs. The scent of his manliness wafted toward me, and Christ on a blow-up banana, it just about did me in. I closed my eyes for a second or two to imprint this memory into my head, then opened them again to find his banana had blown up even further. I stared, goggle-eyed, and told myself to calm the hell down.

  “I can smell you,” he said.

  And I can smell you…

  “Do as you’re told and put it on, Pussy Pwoar.”

  I blinked several times in an effort to control myself. I shook all over, head to sodding toe, and wondered if nerves were doing a number on me or if the fact that what I’d dreamt of was so close—very close—was sending me off-kilter.

  As if I put condoms onto cocks every day, I placed it over his tip then rolled it down his length until it fitted snugly at the base. Even bolder, I took him in hand and gave him a few up-and-down strokes. My nipples perked and my cunt grew wetter. Heart rate skyrocketing, I coached myself to slip further into my Pussy role.

  “I can see you sitting on me,” he whispered, breath breezing over the top of my head. He dragged the rose down my arm, the petals super-soft. “I see you easing down, nice and slow, and sucking in a breath as my cock stretches your cunt. Can you imagine what that would feel like?”

  I could imagine it all right, but I wanted to know—to feel, to experience, to revel in being so full of him I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  “Yes,” I managed.

  “I’ve thought about it,” he said, drawing the rose up again. “When I’m in bed. When I’m at work. When I’m in the pub and you’re only a few feet away. It drove me mad, not knowing.”

  “Then I’ll put
an end to the madness.” Something took over me—carnal need, the desire to fuck him senseless, I didn’t know—and I stood. “You’re going to stretch my cunt, fill me up, make me come so hard.” Before I could be surprised at myself, I went on. “I’m going to milk your cock so thoroughly you won’t know what hit you.”

  “Christ, Mandy…”

  “It’s Pussy to you, and don’t forget it.”

  I put my hands on his shoulders. The touch burned, zinged through me, and my breathing turned ragged. My clit pulsed with need—I wanted him to rub it until I came, bucking and juddering on top of him, screaming out his name, not caring who the hell heard me.

  “Suck my nipple,” I said, thrusting a breast toward his mouth. “Suck it hard—I like it that way, nice and hard with little tweaks of pain.” I steadied myself with a hand on one of his shoulders then held the curve of my breast in my other palm, guiding my erect nipple toward his lips—lips I’d never thought would be anywhere near me like this. “That’s it, take it in—all of it—and suck it, nip it, swirl your tongue around it.”

  His tongue and teeth action set a series of convulsions off. I clamped my legs together, squirming, needing some friction between my legs.

  I inhaled a huge breath. Let it out. “Touch my cunt,” I ordered.

  He reached out, found the spot right away and eased two fingers into my slit. I opened my legs a little. He drew his fingers upwards, dropping the rose to the floor, and I bucked from the shock of sensation streaking to my clit. He smoothed his fingers higher, brushed one tip over my pulsing bud. I snatched in a breath, biting on my lower lip to stop myself crying out. He knew just how much pressure to apply, just how I liked it.

  “Such a wet, beautiful cunt,” he whispered. “Sit on me.”

  I held both of his shoulders again, and while he fondled my clit I hovered over his cock so it settled at my entrance. I waited a moment, then sank down slowly, groaning at the stretch, the feeling of being so full of him my head was spinning. I’d finally got what I’d wanted for so long—him inside me, him wanting me as much as I wanted him. It felt surreal for a second or two, as though a dream. A tweak in my cunt told me otherwise. This was no dream. Leon’s cock was inside me and I’d be coming hard and fast in my immediate future. My whole body seemed to buzz from excitement, and I wanted him to touch me everywhere, all at the same time. It was like I couldn’t get enough of him, like my longing for him had burst, spreading through my body with the intent to wring me out.