The Suit

by Kathryn Nolan

  “What’s this?” He asks, hands on his knees. You can just make out the hard outline of his cock, straining against his suit pants.

  “It’s called a strip tease, Dilbert,” you say, and his nostrils flare. You grasp the zipper of your top and start to tug it down, down, down. You’re wearing a hot pink bra that matches your hair, and Edward’s eyes track over every single inch of ink that you’re exposing.

  It’s a lot.

  You shrug out of the shirt and Edward is still as a statue.

  “What are you thinking?” You ask, hooking your thumbs into your skirt. Flicking open the button.

  “Dark things, love,” he growls. “Very dark things.”

  “Mmm,” you say, sliding the material down, leaving you in fishnet stockings and combat boots. “That’s not very nice.”

  “I’m not sure I’m very nice,” he says, eyes on you like a fucking force field.

  “That’s not true,” you chide. “You’re a very polite, English gentleman.”

  In a flash, Edward reaches forward and grabs the back of your knees, yanking you to him. His face is level with your lace-covered breasts.

  “Take this off, Roxy,” he says. You shake your head, teasing. So with an arch of an eyebrow he reaches up, unclasps your bra with reverent fingers, and lets it drop to the ground.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Pierced?” He asks in a rough voice.

  “Of course.”

  Edward nods and you are desperate for him to touch you. But he hasn’t yet.

  “Off,” he says, looking at your panties. You shake your head again, still teasing. You’d always been a brat, and something about Edward makes you sinfully defiant. He keeps his eyes on you as he reaches forward with two hands, grasps the material, and tears it clean in half. You are bare and naked in front of an almost stranger, with the exception of your fishnet thigh-high stockings.

  “Roxy,” he whispers. “This is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever fucking seen.”

  Your eyes flutter closed. “You’re lucky.”

  “I bloody well am, love,” he says. “Show me.”

  You arch an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Use your fingers to pull those pretty lips back. Show me.” Your first instinct is to defy again, but instead your fingers are trailing between your breasts, down your stomach, and spreading your pussy apart for Edward’s greedy eyes.

  You watch his knuckles whiten again, his breathing labored. “Is that a clit piercing?”

  “Of course,” you say again, and Edward is like a barely-restrained animal. A wolf forced to sit before its master. He finally, finally places the tip of his finger just inside your knee. Drags it up slowly. Oh. So. Slowly. The two of you watch it travel along your skin, breathing together. Hot. Panting. And then he slides it against your clit piercing. A strangled, pleasured sound claws its way from your throat.

  “Oh Roxy,” Edward says, sliding his finger again. Your knees almost buckle. “What am I going to do with you, love?”

  Another slide, then another. You reach forward for his shoulders, steadying yourself as Edward strums your clit with practiced ease.

  “You’ve never…you’ve never seen a pierced clit before?” You sigh.

  “In porn,” he says, switching his movements to small circles and your forehead falls against his. “I…I quite liked it there. Thought about it when I’d touch myself. Thought about…how sensitive a woman would be. With this,” he hisses, with more circles, and your hips are now thrusting forward on their own accord. “Are you, Roxy?”

  “What?” You shudder.

  “Extra sensitive,” he says, leaning closer, nuzzling along your breasts, the tip of his tongue just tracing the metal in your nipple.

  “Fuck, yes,” you groan. And then Edward stops and your world goes dark.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” You are gripping his shoulders, completely out of control. Ready to get on your knees and beg to come.

  “Punishing you,” he says, and like that you are pulled onto his lap, hard cock nudging right against that piercing like it was made to be there. Your legs go around Edward’s hips, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

  And then Edward proceeds to give you the most fervently passionate kiss of your entire goddamn life. You are all lips and teeth and tongue and desperate, needy moans as you rock against him. His fingers thread through your hair and pull hard. You rip open the buttons of his shirt, the sound of them flying over the floor. Your fingers make quick work of his tie, mouth still fused to his, and Edward spreads your ass cheeks apart like he owns them. Drags you harder against his lap and you respond by biting down onto his tongue.

  He pulls back, blood on his lip. His eyes are wild with sheer lust. Hair mussed. Shirt half off his body, exposing his lean, muscled chest and a fine dusting of hair.

  “Who’s in charge here, love?” You snap your hips quickly, dry-fucking his cock, and his fingers close around your throat.

  “Me,” you groan, raking your nails down his chest. “Clearly.”

  His laughter is dark and husky. “That’s your contention?” You are so close to coming. So close. And not just any old orgasm you routinely give yourself.

  No, this orgasm is going to rip you in half. As if reading your mind, Edward reaches down and swiftly rubs your clit. You cry out, his lips moving against your neck.

  “That’s right,” he groans. “Who controls your pleasure, Roxy?”

  “Me,” you bite back, and he smacks your ass so hard you almost cry.

  “Who controls your pleasure, Roxy?” He asks again, twisting a nipple piercing between his fingers. So close. So close. You can see your orgasm and you’re not sure you’ll survive it. Edward is everything.

  And as you start to crest, you hear the words “you you you,” slip from your lips.

  But then the bastard stops. Pulls away. Shoves you to your knees. You are a mess, and immediately your fingers go to finish the job he wouldn’t, but Edward traps your fingers between his. Bites one and you practically growl at him. Slowly, like a king, he drags his zipper down. The sound echoes in the quiet of your tattoo parlor and the air is so charged you fear spontaneous human combustion.

  “What do you want, love?” He asks quietly.

  “Your cock, please,” you say, licking your lips. You are desperate for it. Hungry for it. The drumbeat of arousal between your legs propelling you forward, trying to get a glimpse of his cock. He grasps your chin, stilling you, tilting your eyes up until you meet his gaze. A smirk tugs at his lips.

  “Looks like we need to re-evaluate who’s in charge.”

  EDWARD

  Someone must have drugged your drink at the bar. Or knocked you over the head as you walked down the street. You were definitely lying unconscious somewhere, spinning through a fantasy so unbelievably erotic it couldn’t be real. Not just any fantasy: Roxy was the fantasy to end all other fantasies. Every dark and devious thing you’d ever thought about suddenly made very real.

  It wasn’t just the sexy ink that marked up a majority of her skin. Or her nipple piercings. Or that bit of metal that winked at you from between those perfect pussy lips.

  It was the fury in the way she kissed you. The desperate snap of her hips as she dry-fucked you. Her tangible yearning, the flush of her chest, her sweet, panting moans.

  Roxy was a fucking vision. And you were going to make her come so many times she’d lose her fucking mind.

  “Take it out,” you say to the submissive, magenta-haired vixen on her knees in front of you.

  She bites her lip. Shakes her head.

  Roxy loved games.

  So you take your cock out for her, and your heart slams in your chest as her eyes widen. She licks her lips again as you fist the base of your cock, stroking up once. You let your head fall back for a moment, stroking slowly. Allowing the sensation to ripple through you. When you finally open your eyes again she has planted her hands on your thighs. And is watching the
deliberate movement of your fist. Up and down.

  “Please,” she finally whines, and you can’t help but grin at her. Which makes her sit up on her knees, lean forward, and clamp her teeth down hard over your chest. So you thread your fingers through her hair and yank her back.

  “I have a better idea for that smart mouth of yours, love,” you hiss, and after staring you down, she finally, finally lowers herself back to the floor. Licks her tongue from your root to the tip. And takes the entirety of your cock into her hot, wet mouth.

  She holds you there, trapped at the back of her throat, and a riot of pleasure explodes throughout your body. Roxy moans deeply, sliding her lips up and down, eyes closed in ecstasy, and just like she promised, you do forget Emily’s name. Your own name. The current year and the country you live in. All thought slides from your brain, because you only exist to receive the pleasure of Roxy’s tongue and lips.

  “So fucking good at this,” you growl, pulling her hair harder, and that only makes her moan more loudly. Take you deeper. You can’t stop watching her—you’re perched on the edge of a leather tattoo chair. Shirt ripped open and half off. Pants on, cock out, and there’s a naked, tattooed woman on her knees in front of you, mouth-fucking your cock like the world’s about to end.

  How is this your life right now?

  And your orgasm is approaching you like a freight train, except you don’t want to come yet. You want to control every second of this encounter, and that includes making Roxy come over and over again. Except you can’t quite make her stop. You’re panting and groaning and some senseless nonsense keeps tumbling from your lips.

  “Not yet love,” you keep saying. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come. Not yet, not yet,” and more syllables and probably something in another language, and Roxy’s eyes are on yours. And this magenta-haired vixen fucking knows—knows that she’s wrested back the control, because she increases her suction and her rhythm, twists her fist at the base of your cock. Twists and sucks and moans like a porn star and when an orgasm rips through you she swallows every last drop of your come down her pretty throat.

  She is still on her knees like a good girl when you’re finally able to look at her again. You slide your thumbs across her cheekbones and she nuzzles against your palm - a soft, cuddly panther that chooses to lick you instead of ripping your head off.

  “Looks like we need to re-evaluate who’s in charge,” she says, nipping at your thumb, and you have her up and bent over the tattoo chair in moments. You fist her long pink hair and yank her neck back, exposing her throat.

  “I still disagree with your general thesis and overall conclusion,” you snap, and then slap her ass with the palm of your hand. You have never spanked a woman before, although you’ve longed to. The feeling is even better than in your fantasies - the way her ass jiggles and turns bright red as your palm rains down on her sensitive skin. Her ass, the tops of her thighs. She squirms a little and you bend down and bite her ass cheek, leaving a mark.

  “Stay still, love,” you taunt, and you notice for the first time that she has been subtly thrusting her clit against the fabric of the chair. You grab her hips, stilling her movements, and she lets out a strangled whine of frustration.

  “Oh no,” you say, hitching her hips up higher and kicking her feet apart. “That’s not happening yet.” Crack-crack-crack goes your palm, and Roxy can barely keep her knees from shaking. “Not for a dirty girl like you, strutting around me all night, fucking begging for my palm. Isn’t that right, love?” You lean down, whispering in her ear.

  When she shakes her head, you spank her so hard your palm stings. And then you slide your tongue up and around the bright red spots on her ass. Swirl it along the edges of the marks. Kiss and lick and spank and lick, until she is wild and absolutely out of control.

  You flip her over, crawl over her gorgeous body, and rock your cock against her clit. Once. Twice. Her fingernails scratch down your chest, and she almost yanks the hair out of your head.

  “You fight mean, love,” you say, giving her a harsh kiss, rocking against her. She is moaning and clutching at you and you’re almost content to just take her now, sprawled out on this chair.

  Except you’d also like to spend hours with your head buried between her thighs.

  “And you owe me a goddamn orgasm,” she says, ripping the remaining parts of your shirt away from your chest. You stand up, strip off your belt. Kick your pants and boxers to the floor. Then you bend down and lift Roxy in one fluid movement, her legs wrapping around your waist and your cock just nudging at her soaking wet cunt.

  “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” you growl, before slamming her against the nearest wall. Something falls and shatters, but her nipples are in your mouth and Roxy is screaming with pleasure. You love the way the metal feels on your teeth, and when you tug gently, Roxy lets out a string of curse words you’ve never even heard before.

  “Just don’t stop,” she begs, and you walk her over to the glass desk that holds the cash register. Knock off a collection of papers and files and staplers. Drop her onto it.

  “I was going to tell you to spread your legs,” you say, wrenching her knees as wide as they go. She hisses and her fingers tighten on the edge of the desk. “But I knew you’d disobey me. Try to keep this perfect cunt away from my tongue.” You lean down, hooking her legs over your shoulders, and with one long swipe of your tongue Roxy is already coming, fucking your face and wailing your name.

  But it’s only the first one. You hook your fingers inside of her, finger-fuck her with long strokes as the sensations ripple through her. Keep her nipples in your mouth until she is sighing and panting again. You place your hand between her breasts and gently push her down, until she is laid out in front of you like a fucking feast.

  And then you curl your tongue around her clit piercing again and she goes off like a rocket.

  ROXY

  You were totally, completely, utterly wrong about Edward. He wasn’t some shy, tentative lover who wanted you with the lights off. He wasn’t a virgin to pain and dominance — in fact, he didn’t need to be shown the way at all.

  No. This polite, English man is nothing like you expected.

  Because from the very first moment the two of you touched, it was like two planets, exploding in the atmosphere: violent bursts of light and a furious volley of sharp movements. Fingers that burn and surges of pleasure so intense you feel like you’re floating through space. Untethered. Filled with sensation.

  And now, Edward has you spread and vulnerable on your desk, half-on-top of the cash register, and his tongue is magic, magic, magic.

  You’re one orgasm down and the second is already approaching rapidly. But Edward is teasing you now: light, rapid flicks of his tongue, followed by long, even strokes of his fingers inside of you. But never at the same time, only enough to build you to the precipice without flinging you off.

  “You’re a fucking monster,” you say through clenched teeth, panting as he flicks your clit and pinches your nipples in the same irritating, incessant rhythm. His gray eyes latch onto yours, barest hint of a smirk on his lips. You grab his hair and yank hard; thrust your pussy against his tongue just the way you like it. Edward slaps the back of your thighs with his palm - slap-slap-slap - and your world shudders and darkens as pleasure crests and crests.

  “And I think I’ve got you figured out, love,” he murmurs. All at once, he pinches your nipple, bites the inside of your thigh, and circles his fingers against your g-spot. Pain and pleasure twine deep in your belly.

  “I fucking hate you so much right now,” you pant, but it’s almost a wail, and Edward removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue.

  “Goddammit, Roxy,” he sighs. “You were hiding this sweet pussy from me all night.” His tongue glides inside almost reverently, his eyes closed in sheer happiness, and now he is moaning louder than you. The sharp, cresting sensations are replaced with something gentle, but powerful, like rapids before a waterfall.
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br />   “That’s because it’s a privilege to taste my pussy,” you finally bite out, except now you’re only saying “oh god oh god oh god” because it is just that good. His tongue licks deeper and stars twinkle across your vision. One hand leaves your nipples and slides down the crack of your ass. A thumb, pressing.

  Edward pulls away and you sob at the loss. “Please don’t…” you start, but he hushes you.

  “Can I have this?” He asks gently, pressing his thumb again at the tight muscle. You somehow manage to lean up on your elbows, biting your lip.

  “My favorite,” you say, and his thumb slides inside your ass.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, Roxy. You know that right?” He growls, looking almost in pain. Like he can’t believe this is happening, except you can’t either. And then he continues to fuck you with his tongue, and fuck you with his thumb, and he nudges his fingers against your clit so perfectly a tsunami-sized orgasm sweeps you away. You scream for so long you go hoarse. You thrust and shake and almost pull Edward’s head off but he stays with you through it all, groaning and sighing and swallowing the juices that run down your leg.

  When he finally stands up, he is a dirty, filthy wreck. Jaw wet. Lips swollen. Scratches down his chest and hair askew. He is sweating, arm muscles bunched, and he is bitten and flushed.

  He looks like a fucking animal.

  In a flash, Edward rolls on a condom and yanks you to the edge of the desk. Grabs your neck and pulls you flush against him. Kisses you like a soldier about to go to war. And you are pressing-pressing-pressing that perfect cock at your soaking wet entrance.

  “Roxy darling,” Edward whispers, sliding his lips against your temple, then pinning you with a steely gaze. “I’m not sure we can go back after this.”

  “I don’t want to,” you say back. “I don’t want to.”

  And then Edward thrusts every sweet inch inside of you. And you both scream.