Falling for Sir

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Falling for Sir Page 13

by Cat Kelly


  Now he was hard. Just from thinking about it. He put his head in his hands and waited for the guilt that should come—guilt for replacing memories of his wife with those thoughts about Marianne. But his head was clear. He looked up again and dropped his hands to the table.

  Alana blinked rapidly and set down her glass. "So you've tried?"

  "Tried what?"

  "You've asked her out?"

  "Not exactly," he hedged, fidgeting discretely in his chair, trying to get comfortable with another inconvenient erection. He hadn't suffered this many since he was a teenager. "But I know she isn't interested in dating her boss. She told me that."

  "She probably told you that on purpose."

  He looked at her, squinting. "Why?"

  "For pity's sake. You are so naive about women." Alana leaned across the table. "She told you she's not interested because she is. Girls of that age do that sort of thing. Women of my age don't have the time to waste, fooling around. We just lay it all out there." She laughed bitterly, tucking hair behind her ear. "Get our hearts trampled."

  Jack still frowned. "I don't know. She's not like that. She's quite sensible." He couldn't see her playing that type of game. Although she did like chess. She already had him in check. "Too young for me anyway," he growled.

  "Yes, she is." Alana sighed. "But I've never known that stop a man yet." She nodded at the wine bottle. "Maybe I'd better have some of that after all."

  * * * *

  She'd tried to ignore his presence in the restaurant. If not for Christie she might have managed it.

  "Look who's here!" her workmate whispered as they waited for their second drink. Apparently Christie had only just seen him. She clutched Marianne's arm and almost cut off the blood flow. "The boss."

  "I know." He was with Alana Shepherd. So? Who cared? Not her. She'd turned him down for a date, hadn't she? Knew it would be a mistake to become a part of his personal life. She'd never look right on his arm. She couldn't act the way she was supposed to or say the proper thing. He seemed amused by her right now, but probably only because she stood up to him. That would wear thin if they started dating. He'd probably tried to fix her when, in her eyes, she wasn't broken.

  Besides he'd been around a lot longer than her, knew more about life and these sorts of games. They had nothing in common.

  Just incredible sex.

  Where was that martini?

  "Are you sure you can stay for another?" she muttered. "I don't want to keep you."

  Christie exhaled loudly. "The two youngest are at Brownies and hubby is picking them up tonight. I have freedom. I'm just glad you agreed to come out. I thought you'd make up an excuse about work again. Boy, I needed this drink tonight."

  "Must be hard sometimes to get a few hours to yourself."

  "Definitely. But that makes it all the sweeter, you know, when I do get time. Besides, before you know it they'll all be grown up and moved out. Then I won't know what to do with myself." She laughed, somewhat wistfully.

  Marianne nodded. "So where do you go? When you get time?"

  "I get a manicure, or a massage. Come out for drinks with David and the girls from work."

  "You never go out to a club to let your hair down?"

  "God no! I haven't been out dancing since we got married."

  Dancing wasn't what she meant, but when she studied Christie's face for any hesitant flicker to give her away there was nothing.

  The barman delivered their new martinis and winked at Marianne. "They creep up on you."

  "No doubt." He was making them pretty strong.

  Christie dug her in the ribs with one finger. "You're being watched again."

  "He's probably trying to remember where he's seen us before," she joked.

  "He helped me fix the copier last night."

  "Marchetti? But I thought I heard someone say it was broken."

  "Yeah." Christie looked sheepish. "That's how we fixed it. Once and for all." Then she giggled. "He came down to the sixteenth last night looking for you. He found me fighting with the damn thing and offered to help. He helped it alright. To the graveyard of dead office equipment. Didn't you wonder why there were no agendas at Dickwad's meeting this afternoon?"

  She'd been too busy avoiding Rawlings when he finally arrived at work to notice he even had a meeting.

  "The boss sent Dickwad an email last night. I helped him write it. No more agendas. They're a waste of paper and it's not in line with the new Marchetti Green policies." Christie gulped her martini and rolled her eyes, sighing happily. "I cannot tell you how glad I am about those agendas. You know I was really surprised at how normal he was. Marchetti. Just like a regular guy. I felt like I could tell him all my problems."

  Marianne was amused by the thought of giggling Christie and stern Jack Marchetti consorting together at his computer over an email to Bob Rawlings. Just because they'd managed to break a piece of office equipment. Kinda sweet of him really to save Christie. She watched the reflection of the diners in the distorted wall mirror behind the bar. There was the back of Alana's head and one-half of his face as he talked intimately and earnestly to her.

  "That's Alana Shepherd," Christie whispered. "They're supposed to be getting engaged."

  She grabbed her glass and spilled some martini. "Really?"

  "It was sad when his wife died. Cancer. It happened so fast. There hasn't been anyone else and I have to say I never thought he'd get married again."

  "I guess life moves on. Time heals." She cringed at her own stupid platitudes. Engaged. Great.

  "So how are the Centennial party plans coming along?"

  "I have a few ideas."

  "Bracknell usually tries to put the breaks on anything fun."

  "She's ok with me."

  Abruptly Christie laughed, "Yeah. I heard. Dickwad said you remind him of her and its no wonder you get on so well."

  "I what?"

  The other woman chased her stuffed olive around her glass with two fingers. "Oh, you know. You and Bracknell are both fairly uptight about work. Noses to the grindstone. She hates casual Fridays too. Never takes a proper lunch. Just like you."

  But there was something more than that. Marianne stared at Christie, reading it in her face. "What else did Bob Rawlings say about me?"

  "Old Marchetti always piled the work on Bracknell. Just like his son is doing to you." Christie swayed on her stool. "The old man, so I hear, owned Bracknell. She did anything for him. Put up with him just using her all those years. And what did she get at the end of it all? One old brownstone that's falling down around her ears. According to Dickwad, Jack Marchetti is just like his dad."

  Marianne lost the taste for her martini. She saw herself, thirty years from now, still working at Marchetti's, unable to leave because she'd invested so much of her time there. On him. She was ready to avoid Thanksgiving because Jack Marchetti wanted to meet with her about his apartment that day. If Grant Peterson offered her a fat salary to go back to them she knew she'd turn it down and stay where she was. To be as close as she could to him.

  Her body and her mind were in knots over that man. Somehow he'd tied her up.

  And not just at The Club.

  And not just her body. Or her mind.

  It was her heart too.

  He was leaving the restaurant with Alana. Suddenly he looked over at Marianne.

  The hungry eyes of a man she called "Sir" ate her alive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Unbound

  They didn't speak a word until he said, "That's all my tokens spent, Claudia."

  It was a warning to her, but she'd always known this couldn't last. The point of The Club was to sleep with strangers and not get complicated with relationships, but this was their third tryst. They were in danger of being noticed for their partiality to one another.

  He was going out of town tomorrow and he'd be gone for a week. She just couldn't let him leave the city without making love to her again, so after leaving Christie at the bar she came
directly here. One look from his deep ocean blues had told her he'd be there. Waiting for her.

  Tonight he'd untied her wrists as soon as they were in the room and she didn't know what to expect from her master. But she knew she could only do whatever he commanded.

  "Down on your knees, Claudia," he growled, unzipping his pants and letting them fall. "I need that sweet, truculent mouth on my cock. It's been pining for you."

  She wasn't sure she knew how to do this. Her experience with giving blowjobs was slight, but she hitched forward on her knees and began by kissing his thighs. Sir had brought her so much pleasure with his mouth on her cunt, so she knew to copy what he'd done to her. Her tongue slipped out and nudged his balls. Above her he groaned. He separated his feet as far as he could with his pants still around his ankles and she slowly began to lick his sac, gently gathering each side into her mouth and sucking, swirling her tongue over the salty skin as it hardened and grew rounder. She let her tongue travel up and down, rippling the skin, while his breathing deepened and he grabbed her head, losing his fingers in her curls.

  "Is this what you want, Sir?" she purred, between little nibbles at the base of his erection.

  He grunted, pressing her face further into his groin, her nose crushed to the thick veins of his shaft. Marianne smiled at the warmth and stiffness that greeted her lips on their way up that long cock. She put her hands on his hips and slowly lowered her mouth over the pulsing head. She let her lips close softly, not too hard. Her tongue lapped at the little hole through which his liquid already formed.

  "Good girl. Now suck it all in. All the way down your throat. All the way."

  As Marianne proceeded to fulfill his husky command she heard a click and felt a draft on her bare back. In a moment of alarm she realized he must have forgotten to bolt the bedroom door for once. Usually it was the first thing he did. Tonight Sir was too eager to play with his Claudia and he forgot. She would have paused her sucking, but his hands tightened around the back of her head and he whispered harshly at her to continue, as if he was too close to coming and wouldn't stop now, no matter what happened.

  She heard voices whispering behind them, although the words were lost to her as she sucked hard at his beautiful cock and felt her pussy getting wet, eagerly preparing to be fucked.

  Marianne would have balked at an audience. Claudia didn't care. All she cared about was pleasing the man before her. Sir.

  His cock continued to grow, pushing at the back of her throat as he swayed and grunted. The door behind her was still open, a draft still brushing her back. She heard a creak and then steps moving across the carpet.

  His voice became deeper still, throaty. "You can look but don't touch."

  How many were there, she wondered.

  It felt like more than just a few people. The air grew warmer by the minute as the audience enjoyed watching her milk his cock.

  "Spread your knees, Claudia," he told her, one hand stroking her hair, the other now cupping his balls. "Arch your back. Let them see the pussy that is all mine to claim. Let them see how wet you are for me."

  Again, Marianne would have refused and run out in shyness. Claudia obeyed with scarcely a qualm. She was naked but for her thigh high stockings and heels. And those feathered nipple clamps swaying from her aching peaks. As she arched her back, sticking out her ass, she knew everyone standing behind would be staring at her moist sex. They had a clear, unobstructed view. Excitement skipped and shuddered through her body. She began to suck him with more gentleness, not wanting him to come yet. He filled her throat, almost choking her, yet she still couldn't get his entire shaft into her mouth.

  "I want you to reach between your legs, Claudia," he told her.

  She swallowed as another bead of pre cum dripped into the back of her throat.

  "Hold your cunt wide open with your fingers. Show them where I'm going to fuck you tonight. Show them."

  She closed her eyes, reached down and did as he commanded.

  Marianne heard a few sighs and grunts from behind. A woman's voice commented on how pretty her pussy was. Someone else said she looked tight.

  "Yes," Sir told them huskily, "She's a beautiful slave. So tight and hot. When she comes her pussy grips me like a vise."

  She felt her own dew dripping over her fingers as she still held her cunt open to be viewed. Sweet lord, she was blossoming under their admiration and his proud words.

  "Rub your clit, Claudia," her master whispered. He slid a hand under her chin, easing her mouth up off his rock hard cock. "Bend all the way over. That's it." He guided her down until her brow was almost touching the carpet by his feet. "Knees apart, as far as you can. Bottom up. Now rub away at that clitty and come for them."

  Marianne was relieved he didn't make her look at the people watching. Not that Claudia would have cared. She slipped two fingers in and out of her creamy hole and wriggled her ass as if she was born to perform.

  With Sir standing over her, she only wanted to impress and please him. Suddenly he knelt, leaned over her back and parted her ass cheeks with his large hands. He bent, shifting forward and down. Slowly his wet tongue lapped at her anus. She was so surprised she'd almost stopped masturbating, but now, as he dug his tongue into her ass and she felt his hard cock sticking to the curls of her hair, Marianne resumed her frantic rubbing.

  When she came with a groan, her entire body shaking, the unseen audience broke into applause.

  * * * *

  Jack knew he'd never get enough of her taste. Seeing her at work everyday was torture and the only way he could get through it was by thinking of the next time he'd see Claudia. The next time he'd have her at his mercy.

  Or was he at hers?

  Now, as he tongue tickled her asshole and he watched her pink pussy creaming all over her own fingers, he knew he needed to come. No more time to waste.

  He lifted his Claudia onto the upholstered chair that faced the door and spread her legs over the wide arms. Her eyes were open through her mask, staring at the cluster of Club members who'd come to watch. It was purely by accident that he'd forgotten to bolt the door, but Jack decided to go with it. Apparently so did she.

  Claudia was tugging on the black feathers that hung from her nipple clips, lengthening the brown peaks, teasing the audience.

  He knelt before the chair and pressed his mouth to her exposed sex. Although she'd only just climaxed, it didn't take her long to get up steam again. With his tongue thrusting way up inside her silky cunt, he sucked down her rapid orgasm, greedily drinking it from her, giving her a forceful tongue fucking at the same time.

  Mine. Mine. Mine. She wouldn't forget that.

  The watchers grew quiet, absorbed in this display. Her thighs quivered as he forced them wider still, drew her cunt to the edge of the chair cushion and knelt up with his cock pushing at her mound. His mouth feasted on her clamped tits. He nibbled around the tight screws, lapped at her aerolas. Then he pressed his cockhead through her sopping wet folds and felt that glorious heat close around his prick, pulling him in.

  To heaven.

  * * * *

  Marianne pressed her head back into the soft embrace of the tapestry chair and closed her eyes as he plumbed every inch of her tingling pussy. Her legs were not only spread over the arms of the chair, but he hooked them over his arms too as he slickly plowed in and out. She gave herself up to it, to him, her arms around his neck as he took her in full view of the watching Club members, fucking her so hard that the chair moved a few inches across the carpet and almost tipped backward.

  Just before he came, he moved his mouth from her clamped nipples to her ear and whispered. "This is for you, Marianne."

  She squeezed her inner muscles, holding him, gripping his cock, and felt the hot gush as he began to release inside her body. He jerked, groaning, his breath warm in her ear, his shoulders tense under her arms, but his shaft stayed hard and thick inside her. She couldn't believe it when he started pounding her pussy yet again. He must have managed to withho
ld a little, she realized in amazement.

  And then, shortly after that she lost all conscious thought as her clit seemed to swell and then burst in sheer agony and delight.

  She squealed, trembling, digging her fingernails into his back, scoring the flesh.

  Jack rammed his cock one last time and then let himself finish, joining her in a frenzied climax that left them both shattered. The room, the furnishings, the watching crowd at the door—all of it disappeared. It was just the two of them fucking and brutal, forcing each other over the edge, time and time again.

  * * * *

  Marianne walked into the elevator as she did every morning, but something felt missing. Of course, as they were approaching Thanksgiving a lot of people took extra time off, but it wasn't the lack of bodies in the elevator, she realized with a sudden sinking feeling. It was the fact that she knew there was no chance of seeing Jack around the building today. Everyone else was relaxed and happy the boss wasn't around, but for Marianne, the energy she'd felt when he was there had gone away with him. She stood in that small box zipping up to the sixteenth floor and felt alone, staring with dull eyes at the flickering numbers above the door.

  It would be another six days before she saw him again. Her heart hurt at the prospect of so many days.

  How fitting, she thought, that the sun had finally gone away and grey rain fell across the streets where she walked. A bitter chill had set in that morning, proving at last that it really was winter. Inside and out.

  She gave herself a hasty lecture for making an ass of herself over her boss. As she passed through the office Christie popped up in her line of sight, cradling a coffee cup in both hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Tell you what?" Oh no. Her pulse almost stopped.

  "About Rawlings. You knew, didn't you?"

  Marianne pushed open her door and Christie followed her in.

 

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