by C. A. Bell
I squeezed myself one more time then removed my hand from temptation and headed for the shower.
Turning the dial to fractionally cooler than I normally had it, I removed my clothes and stepped in to give myself a once over before she arrived, because God only knew what would happen when she got here. Clarisa was a dirty girl. I remembered the first night we met. It was hard to forget. I’d chatted her up in some fancy wine bar in the city, brought her back to my place, and we’d spent hours fucking in the kitchen. We poured wine over each other and licked it off. Smeared rich chocolate mousse over each other nipples. Ran ice cubes down each other’s spines… I can tell you… those cubes slipped right on in. And where that sprig of asparagus didn’t go. Well, even I blushed. And that’s saying something.
Once I’d lathered my sponge up with my Hugo Boss gel, I gave myself a good buff, rinsed it off, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around my waist.
I examined my six-pack in the mirror. It looked hot with beads of water running down its grooves. I grinned. I was one sexy fucker and I knew it. But I worked for it. This physique didn’t come easy.
After gazing at myself for a moment longer, I headed off to get dressed. Running through my numerous shirts, t-shirts, jeans, trousers, suits, and shoes, I decided to just stick with the towel. What was the point in getting dressed? Clarisa knew what I wanted, and clothes would just slow things down.
My dick pulsed when I heard the doorbell ring. Instantly, I headed for the door. When I opened it, there she was, stood in a long black coat with her blonde hair clipped back.
“Hi, sexy.” I grinned, aware my cock was growing by the second and making its presence beneath my towel very known.
“Hey. Are you gonna invite me in?” Her voice was low and husky. It sent my balls swirling.
I stepped aside and held the door open for her. As she entered she left a strong scent of musk and arousal in her wake. I breathed her in. Mmm.
Closing the door behind her, I watched as she headed off towards the staircase, fiddling with her coat belt. All of a sudden she turned, pulled the coat open, and said, “Do you like?”
I gawped at the peek-a-boo bra and crotchless knickers.
“Fuck me.” I reached down for the towel and pulled it loose, allowing it to drop to the floor. “What do you think,” I asked, glancing down at my raging hard-on.
“I think you’re a horny fucker who wants some pussy.” She dropped the coat, turned on her heel and made her way up the open staircase, wiggling her arse.
I rose an eyebrow and watched until she got halfway, then chased up after her. She screeched and ran to the bedroom, jumping on the bed as I entered.
“You ready for this?”
She knelt on the bed, unclipped and shook her hair loose, and said, “Just tell me where you want me, stud.”
****
Smoke hung in the air as the soft sounds of jazz hummed through the small speakers in the corners of the room. I took a drag of the Padrón Serie 1926 No.90 and let the walnut flavours dance around my taste buds.
“What do you think to it?” Milton asked, picking up his whiskey.
“Beautiful. Strong, but balanced.”
He took a sip of his drink. The ice cubes rattling against the glass made me think of Clarisa. I smiled to myself.
“I agree. What tones are you picking up on?”
“A nutty one at the moment.”
“Mmm.” He took a drag. “Me too. And Cedar.”
The gentlemen to his right agreed.
“And on the Harper scale?”
I pondered a moment. “I’ll let you know. I’m waiting for the mid-smoke notes to kick in.”
“A connoisseur at his best,” Milton explained to his buddy, to whom I hadn’t yet been introduced.
“Well, all the finer things in life must be tasted and enjoyed to the fullest. Don’t you agree?” I grabbed my scotch from the dark mahogany table.
“And you’d know all about that.”
The other five men in the room laughed.
“Oh, indeed I would.” I raised my drink to them all before taking a gulp.
Milton rested back in his leather wingback chair before saying, “So, spill the beans. You know we all love to hear about your adventures.”
I shifted against the chair, lifted my left foot up and rested it on my right knee, and got comfortable. “Well, I’d like to be able to say a gentleman never tells, but, well, you all know that isn’t fucking true. So, where do I start?”
“At the very beginning,” Johnathan said, slipping a book back onto Milton’s library shelf and coming forward to find a pew.
“Very well.” I took another draw from my cigar, the flavours becoming more intense. “Since the last time we met, there must have been… oh, I don’t know… a dozen.”
“A dozen? How do you do it, man?” Johnathan asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer.
“Just look at him,” Fred started. “He’s dashing. Speaks well. Has class. And has a huge dick.”
The group laughed.
“And how would you know?” Milton said, raising his eyebrows comically at him.
“Your wife.”
“Ooohhhhhh,” the crowd simultaneously burst out.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” He paused and looked at me. “She’d have no chance.” He opened his mouth wide and threw out an over the top laugh.
I joined in. What did he know? I’d had her in this very room. Fair enough it was almost a year ago, but still, what a cock.
“Anyway, on with the stories,” he said, after containing his exaggerated delight at his own comedy.
“I could tell you about Marie, a saucy little Italian I picked up… Or how about Laurie? What that woman could do with her body was out of this world. She’s a gymnast, you see. I tell you, it was like fucking a pretzel with hair.”
Fred shook his head. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit indeed, my friend. As if the pretzel wasn’t enough… oh, and you are going to love this… She literally bent over backwards to suck me off.”
“Get out.” Johnathan pulled a disbelieving face.
“I shit you not.”
“Seriously? Right over backwards?” Johnathan asked, his dick practically ready to explode at the thought.
“Mhm. Right over. At one point I thought she was going to disappear up her own arse.” I laughed. “God knows I did.”
I took several small puffs from my smoke as their eyes burnt into me, wanting more information.
“Leather.”
“Huh?” Milton questioned.
“Leather mid notes, with a hint of pepper.”
“Oh. I thought we were going to go down a whole new kinky route then.”
“Now that would be Grace. I’ve told you about her before, right?”
They all shook their heads. I loved this. Being the centre of attention with all eyes and ears on me felt good.
“Oh, well, let me acquaint you with Mistress Grace. To look at, you’d think that butter wouldn’t melt. She’s very prim and proper. You know, floaty dresses and immaculate hair. But holy mother, when she slips into that leather corset and thigh-high boots… she’s a fucking demon sent straight from hell. She’s had me tied to the bed, bent over the bonnet of my Mercedes, strung up in the shower... You name it. I call on her rarely, but, well…” I shrugged. “Every man needs a mistress of some sorts.”
“I second that.” Milton stood and headed over to the corner of the room.
We all knew Milton paid for a mistress. Not a mistress in the sense I was referring to. A woman he put up in a lavish apartment across town and visited when he wanted to get his end away. He’d been doing it for years, which was part of the reason I didn’t feel guilty about shagging his wife.
“Ah.” Milton turned, sniffing a cigar. “The Rocky Patel. Ready for another one, fellas?”
We all nodded as we took one last drag from our Padrón Serie.
He handed a sealed one to me and I un
wrapped it and took in the aroma of the dark stick before taking my guillotine cutter and snipping just above the shoulder. Then I took my double flame lighter, ignited it, and placed the end of the cigar at the tip of the flame. Rotating the Rocky Patel in my fingers, I began to slowly burn it. Once I’d given it about twenty seconds, I blew on the end and observed for any black spots. There weren’t any. It had lit evenly. The perfect light. Placing it between my lips, I took in my first taste. Instantly, earthy notes took a hold of my senses.
“What are you getting?” Milton asked, walking across the room.
“Earthy.”
“Me, too.”
“It’s nice, and it looks good, too. I like the darker wrappers, especially with the box-pressed look. To me, it just screams sophistication, a man who can handle his smokes.”
“And that is why I like you, my friend. You know what you are talking about. You are pure sophistication in a suit.”
I tipped my head to him. “Thank you.”
He headed to the other side of the room to his huge dark wood desk and opened the top drawer before pulling out a packet of cards. I knew exactly what was coming. Poker. These guys were fools. They’d never beaten me and they never would. Playing poker was how I made a living. I was a gambler, and the best goddamn gambler at that.
I smiled, cigar between my teeth.
Show me the money, gentlemen.
Ouch
Brooke Knight
I brushed my hair once more and checked my appearance in the mirror. I looked hot. My dark chocolate hair hung down almost to my elbows and my tight-fitting Gucci dress clung to my slim frame like a vacuumed air bag. Lennox wasn’t going to know what had hit him. I grabbed my pair of Prada heels and brand matching clutch bag and headed downstairs for a drink.
In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of red wine and sat down at the marble breakfast bar to check my emails.
One hundred and fifteen emails and I’d only left the office an hour ago. I skimmed through and flagged all of the important ones. They’d have to wait until tomorrow now. I had far more important things, like Lennox Grant’s tight arse, on my mind.
Taking a big gulp from my drink, I pressed call on Jacob’s number.
“Evening, Miss Knight.”
“Evening, Jacob. Are you here?”
“Certainly.”
“Great. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I hung up and downed the rest of my wine. I knew it was criminal to do such a thing to a vintage, but I needed to. I needed to relax. Not because Lennox made me nervous or anything, but because I just couldn’t get work off of my brain. It was the one and only weakness I had. Suave was my life. My baby. I’d watched it grow from nothing into everything. From a tiny twelve hundred prints a year, to a whopping three million. It was mine and mine alone. No one had helped me, not even my parents. From the age of eighteen I had made my own money and taken care of myself. I had nobody to thank for my success but myself.
I locked my mobile and slipped it into my bag as I saw Jacob pull up in the Bentley on the CCTV monitor. No more looking. You can catch up tomorrow.
Slipping into my shoes, I grabbed my clutch and made for the front door, bidding Greta, my housekeeper, a good night, before throwing her a ‘don’t wait up’ with a wink.
She raised her head and smiled knowingly as I headed out.
My staff were great. I’d hand-picked them all for different reasons. Jacob, my chauffeur, because he reminded me of my dad. Not that I liked my father much anymore, but having a type of father figure around made me feel content. I chose Greta based on some silly childhood nostalgic feeling she conjured up in me. She reminded me of the little maid from One Hundred and One Dalmatians, and I loved that film as I child, so I just had to have her. Just the sight of her took me back to my younger years. She was wonderful, kind of like my own fairy godmother. She looked after me when I needed it. Then there was Jack, the gardener, or as I liked to call him… hot guy with the spade. He was fit as fuck and I’d impressed myself by not making a move on him within the first week. But after his Coca-Cola moment out back with a bottle of water and naked torso, I just couldn’t resist. Who’d have known he would turn out to be a two second wonder? Needless to say, I hadn’t emBARKed on his trunk since. A woman needed to know she’d had wood, not be left checking for splinters for evidence that something had happened. After our brief tumble in the tulips, I just made sure I wasn’t there when he was booked to trim my bushes. I didn’t want to have the uncomfortable ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ conversation that would no doubt damage his pride and see him walk out after pissing on my begonias.
I greeted Jacob as he held the car door open for me then slipped onto the backseat.
He took the driver’s seat. “Where to, ma’am?”
“Kensington Avenue.”
“Money street. Very nice.”
“Mhm. I’m going to see Lennox Grant.”
He caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. “Why do I know that name?”
“You’ve probably read about him.”
“In your magazine?”
“Not yet.” I smiled. “But you will.”
“Is it business or pleasure tonight, then?”
“Pleasure.”
I caught him raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t even think about it, Jacob.”
“My tongue is well and truly bleeding.”
I nodded. “Good.”
Jacob and I had fallen out a couple of months back after we’d had a heated debate on the subject of mixing business and pleasure. I couldn’t remember exactly what it was about as I’d had one too many sherbets, but what I did remember was firing his arse. He came crawling back the next day, though, and I was glad he did. I hadn’t meant to fire him. I liked him. But there was no way on earth I was going to run after him, so I was glad he took the pride bullet.
Silence lingered in the car until we pulled onto Kensington Avenue.
“Which house, ma’am?”
“The one right at the end on the left.”
He slowed to a halt as we approached the security gates.
A man in shades and a black suit strode over looking like he’d just stepped straight out of a Men in Black movie.
I giggled to myself. What a knob. Where’s Will?
Jacob rolled his window down.
“Can I help you?” MIB wannabe asked, the chewing gum in his mouth rolling around with each word he spoke.
“Miss Knight is here.”
He lifted his head knowingly, the gates parted, and Jacob drove us in.
Shutting the engine off, he stepped out and walked around to my door before opening it for me and holding out a hand. I took it and stepped out slowly.
“You may go home, Jacob. I will call you when I need you.”
He tipped his driver’s hat. “As you wish.”
Taking the stone staircase up to the front door, I heard the Bentley start up and pull away.
“I thought you’d stood me up.”
My fist paused in mid-air, no need to knock. I smiled as I caught sight of him in my peripheral vision.
I turned. “Of course not.”
His eyes darted all over me as he stepped forward. “Wow. You look… stunning.”
“Thanks.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled it through his. “This way. We’re out back.”
Making our way along the side of the house, I noticed an impressive collection of Porsches lined up outside a quadruple garage.
“You have a thing for German engineering?”
“I can’t help it. It’s a weakness. As well you probably already know.”
He was right, I did know. I knew a lot about this man. It was my job. I knew he loved Porsches and attended the annual Big Bucks Car Show where he would show off his newest model. I knew he had a sister who lived in France, and his mother and father were in Italy on holiday. And I knew he’d had more pussy then me. It didn’t matter who you were or where you were from, if y
ou were rich or famous I knew virtually everything about you—your inside leg measurements, your bra size, your chosen beverage… even your dick circumference. There was no escaping me and my minions. We were too good at squeezing the juice from the squidgy bits.
Stepping through to the rear garden, I noticed he’d gone to some trouble. Lanterns burnt around the edge of the pool and seating area, easy-listening music played quietly, and his outside bar was attended and just waiting for me to make my first order.
I was no fool; I knew what tonight was about—sex. He’d wanted me the moment he’d laid eyes on me. He couldn’t resist the power that oozed from every Chanel buffed pore. And I couldn’t resist finding out if the Lennox Grant donkey dick rumours were true.
I knew some people probably judged me for having so much sex with so many different people, but I didn’t care. I had an insatiable appetite for sex that no one could satisfy. It wasn’t my fault that I was built that way, and no man, nor woman for that matter, could scratch my itch for more than one night.
“What can I get you?” Lennox asked as we neared the bar.
“Oh, umm, anything red.”
“Anything red, as in wine? Or literally?”
I was feeling naughty. “Literally.”
“Then I know just the drink.” He leant on the bar and smiled at the waitress before saying, “Two French kisses,” while raising his brows at her.
Inside, I was dying with laughter at the pure cheese that had just happened before me.
“And I mean the drink.” He winked at the young girl.
I raised an eyebrow and watched the cheddar mature right in front of me. Who’d have had any idea that cool, sexy, sophisticated Lennox Grant was a cheese ball?
I watched the girl fill two cocktail glasses with two types of vodka and cranberry juice. I licked my lips. I could almost feel the burn of the alcohol and the sharp tang of the juice already.
After she placed some unwanted garnish on top, she handed the drinks to Lennox.
“Shall we?” He gestured toward two seats and a table surrounded by candles on the other side of the pool.
“Sure.”
I followed him over and took my drink from him as I sat down.