by Penny Wylder
No, the torture comes from the fact that every move Chris makes I can feel. There’s something between us now, something that’s unsettled and raring for us to finish. Though he makes conversation with Chelsea, his eyes almost never leave me. I can feel them watching my every move. When I make eye contact with him, he smiles a tiny smile, one that lets me know he’s remembering how I came apart on his hand.
And he touches me. His hand on the small of my back as we enter the restaurant. Brushing my shoulder as he pulls out a chair for me. On my hand as he makes a point in conversation. On my thigh under the table, inching upward. It’s all I can do to keep from blushing, because I know what each of those touches means. Every one is meant to remind me of what he said, of what’s coming when we make it back to that hotel room and there’s nothing stopping us from tearing each other apart.
This is such thin ice we’re walking on, and yet, I don’t think either of us would care very much if we drowned. There’s something here, and neither of us is going to turn away until we explore it. I try to focus on Chelsea, on giving her the attention that she deserves, but it’s proving more difficult that I thought.
Turns out Colson Foods was Chris’s first client with Ellison. He put them on the map with a cute campaign that anthropomorphized Colson’s products and the videos went viral—just like Colson’s market share. Ever since then, his name has been on everyone’s lips, including mine. But Chelsea is the one that convinced Colson to go with Ellison in the first place. They were skeptical about the cutesy commercials and wanted something more straight-forward. She pushed until they gave, and it’s a good thing that they did. I guess that Chris owes a lot to her, which is why she gets the honor of a one-on-one dinner. Or it would be one-on-one if I weren’t here.
I feel a brush of his fingers under the tablecloth again and I look over to find him grinning. That kind of smile entirely transforms his face, going from brooding and sexy to boyish and charming. But before I can really think about which side of him I like better, Chelsea asks, “So, Scarlett. I haven’t seen you on any trips with Chris before. How’d you land that gig?”
“Bad shrimp,” I say, trying to contain my laughter.
“What?”
I take a sip of wine. “There was a platter of bad shrimp at the New Year’s party. I hate seafood—always have, so it wasn’t on my list of things to try. But most people in Seattle can’t get enough. So half the company was sick with food poisoning, including the three people who directly outrank me and would have been chosen first.”
Chelsea laughs, a deep booming laugh that sounds almost strange coming from a woman. But it’s so sincere that you can’t help but laughing along with her. “That’s one hell of a stroke of luck.”
“It’s definitely something like that,” I say, smiling into my glass.
There’s another brush on my thigh, and my fingers tighten on the stem of my glass, because this one is higher than the others. I send Chris a quick warning glare, and all he does is raise an eyebrow. I straighten my spine, determined to keep my face cool and impassive, not responding to him. The last thing I want is Chelsea getting wind of something happening between us under the table.
“How are you liking New York?” she asks me.
Chris’s hand creeps higher. “I haven’t seen much of it, to be honest,” I say. “Plus, it’s a lot colder than I was expecting.”
“Yeah, it’s been a pretty bad winter. Last year was far more mild.”
I nod my head and I take a sip of wine to cover my anxiety. Chris has reached my mound, his fingers gently pushing through my dress, stimulating my clit and getting me far too aroused to be in a restaurant like this.
Chelsea engages Chris in something minute about their current negotiations, and his hand disappears. I stifle a sigh of relief. I want his hands on me too much. If he keeps touching me, I’m afraid that I’m going to give something away. I know that some people love it, but exhibitionism really isn’t my style. I would much rather just be seen by the one person I want. I know that Chris sees me. Now we just have to wait until we’re alone.
It takes another hour of small talk and small touches for dinner to wind down. Finally, we’re ready to go, and my body is so keyed up that I’m ready to pull Chris into the first dark corner we see and make him fuck me. But on the way out to the restaurant, he’s a perfect gentleman. He takes my arm as we say our goodbyes to Chelsea, and he helps me into the cab so I can avoid stepping into the slush. He tells the cab driver the address of the hotel, and that’s that. I turn towards him, ready to pounce on him. That’s what people in the movies do, right? They maul each other in the back of a taxi until they get back to the hotel and rip each other’s clothes off. But Chris stops me.
He pulls me against his side locking me to him with one arm and pulling up my dress with the other. Again that teasing touch finds me, and I stifle a moan. “You’re going to kill me,” I whisper.
“On the contrary,” he says against my ear. “Did you know that the French used to call the orgasm le petit mort, or the little death? No, Scarlett. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you have many, many little deaths.” His fingers press through my panties against my clit, and I squirm in my seat, wanting to get closer to him but also not wanting the cab driver to have any clue as to what we’re doing. The way he’s touching me, it’s gentle, calm, and insistent. It tells me he’s not afraid to take his time, that he knows exactly what he wants and he’s going to get it. It’s exactly the way he is at Ellison, only this is ten times hotter.
The pressure he’s using on my clit is soft and pulsing, and it’s making me wet. I can feel the way the fabric of my panties is dampening, and I know that he can too. His lips press my ear again. “I’m not sure if I expressed this earlier, but you are so utterly hot,” he says. “From the second you walked in that door yesterday my cock was hard, wanting you. And now I can’t wait to have all of you.”
He presses against me more insistently, and my back arches. “How long until we’re there?” I ask.
“Not long.”
The rest of the cab ride is lost in a haze of touching. Chris’s hand feels like it’s everywhere. His fingers sweep down the insides of my thighs, only to rush back and tease me beneath my panties. Suddenly they’re at my breasts, feeling the way my nipples stand at attention under the fabric of my clothes, and then back to my clit to draw tiny circles that have my hips trusting against his hold on me. I’m going to combust. The cab driver pulls over in front of the hotel, and I gasp in relief. Chris pulls my dress down and pays the driver, and we rush inside. He takes me by the hand, pulling me along.
There is no frenzied make-out session in the elevator, no falling against the walls of the hallway as we make our way to the room. There is only the firm steadiness of his hand, the iron in his grip leaving no room to doubt that he’s going to make good on all of the promises he made. The door seems to loom in front of me as he opens it. I want this so badly, I’m almost afraid for it to start.
The door closes and we’re left in the half-light of the room. We left a couple of lamps on, and the lights of the city are streaming in through the window. The dimness feels sensual and dangerous, like anything could happen. Chris takes his coat off and drops it to the floor, pushes mine off my shoulders and watches it fall. “I’ve been watching you in that dress all night and it’s been driving me crazy,” he says. “Now I want to see you out of it.”
I walk past him towards the center of the room, stepping out of my heels as I go. I can feel his eyes on me as I turn, shimmying the straps off my shoulders and pushing the dress down my body. I watch his eyes follow it as it falls into a puddle on the floor. “Your turn,” I say.
His suit jacket comes off, and unlike earlier when I barely had a chance to look at him, this time, as he unbuttons his shirt, I get the chance to drink him in. The lean lines of his muscles are highlighted in the dim room, and the sparse trail of hair that trails from his chest to his stomach leads my eyes straight
to where I want it to go—across his delicious abs and down to where his cock is once again begging for attention.
I take of my bra as he takes off his pants, and then he’s naked. I stop undressing to catch my breath and just look at him. He stalks towards me, powerful and smooth as a lion, and I’m begging to be his prey. He picks me up as if I weigh absolutely nothing, laying me back on the bed, his mouth following his fingers as he hooks them into the waistband of my tights and panties, shedding them from me. Now his lips are on my thighs, and I spread my legs for him, more than ready to have him there, for him to take me in whatever way he wants.
But he doesn’t put his mouth on me. Instead he teases me. He drags his lips along my skin, pressing kisses to my knees. Who knew knees could drive you crazy? He works his way up my hips where he decorates my skin with his lips and his tongue, kissing low across my stomach. It’s so close, so close to where I want him. I arch my back and raise my hips, offering myself to him, trying to get him closer. Instead he crawls up my body, pinning me to the bed and putting his face close to mine. “No, Scarlett. Not yet.”
“Please,” I say, writhing beneath him, feeling his cock press against my skin.
“If you’re going to help me blow of steam,” he says, his mouth quirking up into a smile, “then you’re going to do it on my terms. I’m going to take my time with you, and by the time I’m done you’ll be screaming so loud the hotel will hear you.”
My breath leaves my chest all at once, the bluntness of his words turning me on even more. I changed my mind. If he puts his mouth on me right now, I might come just from that. Chris puts his lips on my neck, and I press myself into him. I love the feeling of his skin on mine, our bodies tangled together. He travels, drawing a path of fire with his mouth, sucking against my skin, leaving bites in his wake. Down between my breasts where he stops and lifts his head to look at me, blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light. “I like these,” he says moments before he takes one of my nipples between his lips, rolling it, sucking, tugging and grazing it with his teeth. His fingers tease the other one, and I watch him squeeze and pull, the dichotomy in sensation sending shudders through me.
He lifts his mouth, sucking my breast and letting it fall. He gives me a wicked smile. “Your tits are perfection. Later, I’m going to fuck them.”
I don’t have a chance to respond, because his mouth closes over my other nipple and I’m lost again to the torrent of sensation. An image flashes in my head of him over me, his cock pushing through my breasts, and I feel myself get wetter in response. I stroke my hand through his hair, pushing his face harder against me, and I let myself feel it. Force myself to stop thinking about it. The scratch of his tongue and teeth has me grabbing onto his shoulders, fighting to get closer to him.
He finally releases me, and I sag onto the bed as he continues his journey down my body, circling my stomach, teasing me. Just when I think I’m finally, finally going to feel what that mouth can do to me, he stops. He crosses to his suitcase, rummaging inside. “What are you doing?” My voice is already hoarse. I’ll be lucky if I have any voice at all tomorrow.
He holds up a sleep mask, and I raise an eyebrow. He comes over to me, and I’m distracted by the sight of his hard cock, stretching towards me, practically begging to be touched. “Are you not comfortable with that?” he asks, seeing the way I look at the mask.
“No,” I say. “Honestly, I just didn’t think you were a sleep mask type of guy.”
His smirk returns, and he leans forward to slip the mask over my eyes. “Only on planes. And you’ll pay for that.”
“Gladly,” I say under my breath, adjusting to seeing nothing but darkness. My breathing gets a little faster, and I can feel a spike of adrenaline run through my body.
There’s a dip on the mattress, and then Chris is there again, right where he left off. He draws gasps from my lips. I never know where he’s going to touch me next. His hands push my legs apart, and I let him as his hands stroke the insides of my thighs. There’s a light brush of lips on my hip, and then another flutter near my knee. His mouth is everywhere, leaving light butterfly kisses on my legs and stomach, never touching me where I need him to be. He keeps his hands on my knees, making sure I’m just where he wants me. After what feels like an eternity of teasing, I find a pattern. Ever so slowly, his mouth is getting closer to my pussy, incrementally. I can feel how wet I am and he must be able to see it. I thrust my hips upwards in a futile attempt to show him what I want, and I hear him chuckle softly.
“I like you like this,” Chris says. “Spread open for me, let me give you the pleasure you deserve.”
His mouth lands on the outer edge of my pussy, and I gasp. He hasn’t gotten that close yet, and even that simple touch feels like fire. His tongue flicks against my upper thigh, and I jump. He laughs, and I moan, because I can feel his breath on my clit. He’s right there, waiting.
The touch on my clit is light, barely a brush of his lips, but it feels like everything. It’s so swollen, so sensitive, that I feel everything. I feel his lips part ever so lightly so the tip of his tongue can taste me. When it touches my clit I get a burst of pleasure, and I want more. I want his whole mouth on me, and for him to swallow me whole. But Chris is still holding me in place, and I know that I’m totally at his mercy.
A stronger kiss now, this time at the top of my mound. “Dammit, Chris,” I say, and he bursts out laughing. “You really are killing me,” I say.
“I know.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he presses his mouth to me again. A stronger lick against my clit now, and I shudder. Now that his tongue is involved, it doesn’t stop. He starts up his random pattern with his tongue, licking me everywhere. My body won’t stop moving, trying to get more of him, and his fingers grip me harder to keep me still. He flicks his tongue up one side of my clit and down the other, sending a burst of pleasure flaring through my nerves. But it’s nothing compared to when he seals his lips around it, sucking it deep into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. My back arches straight off the bed, and I curse loudly. His laughter vibrates against my clit, and my muscles start to shake under his mouth. He sweeps his tongue across my pussy, lapping at the entrance, taking me. He dips inside, exploring me in the most intimate way I can imagine. He swirls his tongue inside, and I’ve never felt anything like that before.
My breath is coming in gasps now. I know that he can push me over the edge any time he wants—my body is ready and begging for it—but he’s choosing to keep me here in this divine limbo where I’d be blind with pleasure even if I weren’t blindfolded.
Something changes, and Chris starts to speed up his pace. His tongue circles my clit, every rotation making that pleasure gather tighter and tighter, ready to explode. His hands move from my knees to my hips, he lifts me against his mouth, holding me still while he consumes me like a meal. His mouth is touching every part of me, lips and tongue and teeth exploring places I didn’t know I had. But he has a way with his tongue and he’s not teasing me with randomness anymore. Instead he’s stroking my clit with a steady, uncompromising rhythm, one that’s got my mind hazy with feeling and I’m reaching out for him, begging him to finish me. I’m telling him yes, I’m begging him to lick me harder. My climax is coming closer in waves, every rise and fall bringing me a little closer to that bright finish.
He can tell when I’m close. I can’t speak anymore, there are no more words, only pleasure and his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking. Just when I think I might be trapped in this delicious purgatory, he sucks me. Sealing his mouth over me, he sucks me harder than ever before, and my orgasm breaks over me like a tidal wave. I see nothing but white behind my eyes as my body shakes with the pleasure of it, writhing against his mouth and grasping at the sheets. There’s nothing in the world that’s ever felt like this. I think I cry out, but I can’t hear it over the rushing in my ears. It feels like it goes on forever, and Chris’s mouth keeps going, drinking me in as come. I can barely breathe. If I breathe I’ll lose it al
l.
And then it’s gone, rushing out as fast as it came, leaving me limp in its absence. “Holy fuck,” I say, the only words that I can find to say.
There’s a sharp sting on my clit and pussy and I jump, unable to identify the sensation. “Such naughty language,” Chris says, and the stinging sensation comes again, with the sound of skin on skin, followed by that stinging spreading into warmth and arousal. The floor drops out from under me with the realization, and I feel dizzy as I say the words. “Did you just spank my pussy?”
The stinging comes again, harder this time, and I lift the blindfold to find him staring at me, his hand raised over my clit. He’s not holding me, I could close my legs, tell him to stop. But I don’t. He’s looking at me, and I at him, and he sees the moment I choose not to stop him. I see his hand drop, and the pain followed by pleasure follows quickly. “I’m not into pain,” I tell him. I’m not. I’ve never wanted someone to hurt me, and yet… “Are you?”
“Real pain?” he says. “No. But I have found that just a little can sometimes make it better.” His hand falls again, and he rubs his hand over my pussy guiding the pain quickly into heat and pleasure. He’s not wrong.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, raising his hand.
I should want him to stop. I should tell him that this is crazy. I shouldn’t let him do this. But the curious part of me wants to know why this feels the way it does, wants just a little bit more of the bite, wants him to do whatever he wants to me. “No,” I say. His hand falls again, and I gasp at the fiery pain, transmuted quickly. The heat gathering in my core is unexpected, and I can feel my pussy getting wet again under his attention. He notices too, pushing a finger deep into me, spreading my wetness across my skin. He spanks my pussy again, and my hips arch off the bed in surprise. That last was harder than before, and it takes his fingers caressing me a few seconds before the fire turns into yearning.