by Cynthia Dane
Miguel was the same as a hundred other guys. The woman he loved was gone. Those stories divided into death and dumped. If the poor girl hadn’t died a tragic death to send a man into grieving for the rest of his life, then it was a terrible breakup that left innumerable scars on the man’s heart. Miguel was no different from those poor sods.
He’s my poor sod, though. She couldn’t help but think that as he kissed her. Kissed her.
Miguel nearly devoured her. Arms wrapped around her body. Lips marred her delicate white skin. Tongue traveled the length of her lingerie strap, from cleavage to throat. His scent infused every sense reporting to her brain. Judith knew these scents well. Not just a man’s cologne, aftershave, or body scent. His adrenaline. His pain.
If Judith wasn’t careful, she would absorb too much of it and be as lost as them. I’ve never been in love. The urge to make love rose within her as Miguel squeezed, grabbed, groped, kissed, sucked, and bit. I think I know what it feels like, though. That was the thing about her position. She saw men at their lowest, deploring life. At their highest, celebrating life. She had a window into the male heart and psyche that most women would kill to have. What have I done with it? Besides make money off it.
Once Miguel had his fill of touching and kissing her, he backed away, crop in hand and eyes wild with determination.
Here it came.
“Ah!” Judith cried out, mostly in pain and a little excitement, as the crop struck her ass. That’s right. I’m Rosa. I’m the bitch who cheated on you and married another man to have his baby. How does that make you feel? “Miguel!”
Judith could take or leave being dominated. With a regular guy, like the kind who usually came into her boudoir, it was another thing to do. They spanked her, twisted her nipples, made her do whatever they wanted… and she went along with it, knowing how much money it made her. Sometimes she got off on it. She understood the appeal of submitting. With the right guy, it was fucking amazing.
The way Miguel struck her wasn’t unleashing his demons on his part. It was pleasuring her, too.
The fifth whack! was the most erotic. He grabbed her from behind, landing that blow right on her ass as he pinched her nipple. A spark of pleasure ripped through her. Then, in that moment, Judith understood. She understood that this was a man worth giving her all to.
“One more time,” she pleaded, his sweaty hand spreading across her stomach. “Please, sir, strike me once more, as hard as you can.”
Her entire abdomen went numb as soon as a crack hit the air. She barely felt the pain. At that point, her ass was so numb that there was nothing to feel. But she felt his intentions. Felt them explode everywhere there was room. As a woman who hadn’t experienced much love in her life? There was plenty of room for a man as big as him.
“No, don’t leave…” What was that? Where had that come from? Why was she whimpering like a stunned first timer? What was she? A virgin? Yet when Miguel stepped away from her, dropping the crop on the floor and already panting in her direction, Judith realized she missed him so much already. “Please touch me.”
He climbed onto the bed, uncuffing her. Before Judith had the chance to shake her limbs out, however, she was in Miguel’s musky embrace and on the receiving end of the heaviest kiss he had yet to give her.
“Is this enough for you?” He was somewhere else entirely. Not in Judith’s room, that was for sure. “Or do you want more of me?”
She shivered. “I want whatever you’ll give me, sir.”
“Do you mean that? Don’t lie to me, Judith. I want to know that you want me as much as I want you.”
The harder he squeezed her, the easier it was to feel his hard cock pressing against her hip. “I do,” she whimpered. “I’m not bullshitting you, Master.”
At the utterance of that word, he tilted her head up and breathed heavily against her throat. His natural scent was taking over the room. The little flecks of vulnerability in his voice told Judith that this was the first time in a long time he trusted a woman as much as this. I’m so sorry that happened to you. You deserve a woman who appreciates everything you give her.
He released Judith, stepping away but not leaving her side. She fell onto her hands, facing him. “Whatever you want,” she reiterated. “Take whatever you want from me. I’ll give it to you, freely.”
That wasn’t to say she was coming monetarily free that night. Monica would never stand for that, having known what went on in there. I mean emotionally. Whatever he wanted. If she could give it, she would.
Miguel unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. The only thing harder and more rigid than that thing was the look on his face. “Suck my cock, Judith.”
She scurried to him, mouth already open by the time she grabbed him by the base.
Her expert skill garnered her the exact reaction she wanted. Miguel grabbed her hair, right by her scalp, and pulled until she was whimpering again, this time against his cock. Fingers traveled down her neck. Her legs spread of their own volition, perhaps giving her the ability to remain in this position, but mostly letting her feel how wet and needy she already was. It didn’t help that Miguel was as desperate as she was. What was he fueled by? Mere lust? Not likely? Not just his memories, either, or whatever emotions he dragged from the depths of his subconscious. Whatever this was blossoming between them, it was feral.
Okay. A little civilized. Miguel was a gentleman, after all.
Gentlemen totally grabbed the backs of women’s heads and shoved cocks down their throats.
Judith held still, focusing more on her breathing than actively pleasuring her client. She wasn’t meant to do anything right now, other than exist. She was a vessel. A conduit. A woman through and through, but a woman who existed to give this man the relief he demanded. Not like she wasn’t into it, either. I fucking love it. There was nothing like a man of Miguel’s standing taking complete control and showing her who was the Master around there, his virility threatening to spill down her throat at any moment. Her nipples hardened, gliding against her bed as the force of Miguel’s thrusts shook her whole body. Her thighs ran wet, and her core begged – nay, demanded – that this man really make her feel beholden to him.
He stopped, but did not pull out of her mouth. Judith took this as a cue to resume what she was up to before, hand gripping his shaft and mouth taking as much as it could without choking. Even with her experience, that was difficult with Miguel’s size.
She didn’t dare look up at him. He didn’t want that. He wanted to feel her devotion. To see her make love to him in this unconventional way. The scary thing? There was no acting. No bluffing, no playing up anything. For the first time in her career, Judith was 100% honest with what she wanted and how she felt having sex.
Usually, such a revelation would scare the piss out of her. In the heat of this charged moment, though? She was revitalized, body opening to him in ways she could never achieve before. Use me, please. Judith wouldn’t be happy until Miguel was purged of his evils. I’ll take them all. Every negative thing you feel… I’ll get rid of it. That’s why I’m here. She had no idea what she would charge for that, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care!
“Shit,” Miguel groaned, the tenor of his voice booming in Judith’s ears. He drew out that word again, cock stiffening in Judith’s mouth as precum covered her tongue. Instead of swallowing it, she licked his shaft with it, making sure he felt and saw how much he desired her. As she got into it again, Miguel shoved her off, sending her body flying to the bed as his hands snatched her. Sometimes he held her torso. Other times it was her legs he spread around his hips. At some point he grabbed her arms and held them above her head.
No warning. Only him, grunting in that hedonistic way as his cock surged into her. The cry falling from her lips was muffled by his.
His embrace swallowed her, surrounded her, suffocated her. Judith sank so far into her bed that she was afraid she would never resurface again. She didn’t want to. From the moment Miguel entered her, all sh
e could think about was him, her, them. They were one. Undivided. Conquered, but not sequestered. Sometimes it hurt, and sometimes it was the greatest pleasure Judith ever knew, but she could not deny that this was something else as well.
Something she had never felt before.
This wasn’t sexual pleasure. Sure, the way his cock plunged deep within her, the tip brushing against her G-spot and his base stroking her clit, was absolutely perfect and conducive to her coming not once, but twice, the first time crashing into her as he continued to pound her cunt and tear apart her fragile negligee. That wasn’t the only thing she felt. Drowning in the midst of sexual release was a foreign entity that warmed her heart as well as her loins.
Oh, no, that was all Miguel warming her loins.
“Come for me,” she whined, arms tight around his torso as she held on. “I need you!”
Need? What need? What was so intrinsic to feeling him do that?
He gasped, a sound coated in a moan as deep as his cock was right now. Yes, yes, go all the way in. His sack continuously hit her sore ass while his shaft swelled with seed.
“Fuck, Judith!” He growled into the crook of her neck, teeth grazing her skin and hand clutching her shoulder. Her leg raised into the air, giving him that last bit of leverage he needed to pierce the core of her being.
Judith had never heard a man come as hard as he did. This wasn’t tension relieving itself. It was years of heartache and denial expelling from a man’s aching body. Judith received the brunt of it, pinned beneath his body as she was. I can’t move. I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted. If I needed to use my safe word, it would be too late. Damage done.
The first wave of Miguel’s orgasm brought with it both an intense, flowering heat and a guttural groan that shook her body. Wait, that’s not him… That was her, making a sound she hadn’t uttered in years. A woman couldn’t fake that sound. For one, society said it wasn’t sexy. Her old porn director told her that when she tried to fake it, because previous sexual partners told her it was hot. Nope. Society has deemed it unsexy, so I had to cut it from my orgasmic vocabulary. Now here it came, reverberating against Miguel’s ear as the second wave of his climax commenced.
His moan was softer, his hips coming to a slow even though he continued to roll inside her. Judith loved this moment. Him, consuming her, owning her body and soul as she cried out in worshipful desire. Miguel hooked his arm beneath her shoulders and slightly lifted her off the bed, his body completely still as he finished inside of her.
They didn’t say a word as they both fell back to the bed. Judith couldn’t open her eyes, or if she did, all she saw was her room through a blurry veil. Her body ached, both from exhaustion and from the intense surge of endorphins spilling from her brain. No, no… The only endorphins allowed were the relaxing kind. These were something else. Something that could spell the end of the career she had carefully cultivated.
“Ma cherie,” Miguel muttered, covering her tender skin in kisses. He must be feeling something if he’s breaking out the French. Hadn’t he said it wasn’t one of his native languages, even though he was fluent in it? “Je t’aime.”
Maybe he used French because he didn’t think she would understand. How woefully shortsighted of him. I’ve heard so much French in my life that I know how to play this game. Judith tried to swallow the words, but she couldn’t. They flowed from her lips to his ear. She was vulnerable, after all. As vulnerable as he was, and that was a dangerous combination.
“Moi aussi,” she confessed. “See? I can speak some French too.”
She didn’t have time to think about what she had done. Miguel kissed her with that same candid passion as always, and she departed to another realm for the next five minutes.
They didn’t discuss what they had said in their moment of passion. Miguel slowly detached himself from her, staring languidly at her body and his softening cock. Don’t think he’ll go again tonight. Fine with Judith. Her thighs were sore and her opening ready to be left alone. Yet she lay there, stunned, her eyes locked on her ceiling as Miguel stood in front of the bed and undressed. His essence covered her skin whenever she moved, and Judith couldn’t help but feel… owned.
Stop it. Stop thinking this. She needed to lose the sex brain and go back to being all business. Slowly, it came back to her, and she happily welcomed Miguel into her bed after tossing her torn negligee to the floor.
“Sorry about your clothes,” he growled into her ear. She rubbed his shoulder and drew her foot up his bare leg. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“I still have the beautiful one you got me before.” Judith touched the tip of his nose. He caught her wrist and kissed her hand. “I could go change into it right now.” It hung in the back of her closet. “I want to sparkle for you.”
“You already do.” His skin touched hers. Breath as hot as fire blew across her body. The tenderness with which Miguel treated her was unlike any other man… except for perhaps one. I had almost forgotten about him. “Don’t clean up tonight. I want to be a part of you all night.” Miguel lightly sucked her nipple. Not enough to arouse her again, but enough to make her moan. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll be a new man. Thanks to you.”
Sadness clouded her eyes. Judith patted his chest, hard, covered in fine, dark hairs. He’s the kind of man I could feel safe and cozy with every night. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she have that every night? “I’m glad I could help. Soon you won’t even need me anymore.” She said that matter-of-factly, because it was true. Eventually Miguel would move on from this. From Rosa. From Judith. She was a lull in his life. A much needed one, but soon he could go back to his world and find himself a woman befitting the role of Miguel Bolivar’s girlfriend… and maybe wife. Maybe he would always think of her fondly. That was fine. She would think of him fondly too, even when he stopped coming to visit her, as all men did.
The thought made her cling to him, desperate to commit his scent and texture to memory. “When will you be back?” she asked.
“Ah…” His hand went down her leg, tucking beneath her knee. When her legs were sufficiently spread enough for his enjoyment, he touched her slit, her folds, basking in how they felt together. “I have to go back to Monaco for a couple of weeks. I’ll send you a gift while I am gone, to make sure you’re thinking of me.”
As his fingers gingerly dipped inside her, Judith pressed her lips against his skin, silencing her dismay.
***
“My maternity leave will start on July 18th,” Monica announced at Monday’s meeting. “I won’t be coming back to the Château for at least a month, and don’t plan to work again until at least six weeks after. Judith will be effectively be the madam while I’m indisposed.”
Four pairs of eyes glanced at the woman in question. Judith, sitting on a couch, chewed on the inside of her cheek while one of her feet bounced on the plush material beneath her. No big deal. Gonna run a multi-million dollar establishment by myself for at least six weeks. Monica had been grooming her for this moment for months. Not like Judith didn’t know how everything ran by now, from ordering supplies, to placating clients, to booking appointments, to overseeing the maids, butlers, cooks… shit, Judith had been doing that latter bullshit for weeks now.
“So be nice to her,” Monica added. “She’s taking orders directly from me, but I don’t want anything to do with you all while I’m recovering.”
“Isn’t your due date at the end of July?” Grace asked. “You’re cutting it awfully close. Are you sure it’s okay?”
Monica barely deigned her with a look. She’s a workaholic. It’s not even surprising that her maternity leave is only going to be six weeks. One of the only women in the country who could afford a leave as long as she wanted, and Monica took the standard amount off. Judith was one of the only people outside of Matilda and Henry who saw what Monica had done to her chambers in the past month. One of the underused walk-in closets had been turned into a hideaway nursery, complete with changing table, rocking chair, and a b
ureau full of baby clothes, a lot of them suspiciously feminine. Either she’s going old school Victorian or she’s having a baby girl. Monica hadn’t told anyone the sex of the baby, not even Henry. She probably knew, though. Monica fucking knew everything, let alone what was happening in her own body!
Even one of the sinks in the master bath had been retrofitted for baby bathing. Monica was going to be bringing an infant to the Château as soon as she was able, and nobody would stop her. When Judith glibly commented on the additions the last time she was in Monica’s room, the madam would only imply that any babies in the Château would not be leaving her chambers, and Matilda would be doubling as a nanny while a real nanny would be working Fridays and Saturdays, the busiest days at the Château.
Of course, nobody was excited about having Baby Warren around while debauchery went down and suspiciously legal activities commenced, but what the boss wanted, the boss got. Monica was lucky she had that Warren money and power now. Nobody around to call her an unfit mother to her face, although Judith had heard plenty every time she went into town or stopped by Monica’s parties at the Warren Estate.
I hate snobby-ass bitches. If the broads weren’t gunning for Monica, they were going after her close friend Jasmine Bliss, the newly minted fiancée of Monica’s ex-boyfriend and primary investor, Ethan Cole.
It was a small world.
The meeting adjourned with nary a comment from anyone else. Monica, however, pulled Judith aside and asked to see her in her office.
Five minutes later, they were sitting in a stuffy, sunny office that demanded at least a fan be turned on. Yet Monica sat down in her turtleneck sweater and loose skirt, looking like a freezing matron even though it was at least seventy outside. Easter had come and gone. Wasn’t it time to start wearing sundresses?