Lust & Leverage

by Kaye Blue

  From the hitched breath and the way her gait changed, it seemed she liked that.

  I gave one last lick for good measure and then pushed her panties to the floor.

  “Step out,” I repeated.

  Mia complied, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t said more than those two words to her during this entire encounter.

  It didn’t matter. What she and I shared was beyond words, something that I had tried to ignore before but couldn’t avoid now.

  “Brace yourself against the couch,” I said.

  I stayed where I was and watched as Mia, moving on jerky legs, fully clothed at top but bare to my eyes below walked to the sofa.

  She leaned forward only enough to rest her hands against the back of the couch, but even that slight motion made her arch her back, seem as though she was offering herself to me.

  And it was quite the offer, a beautiful, bountiful one that I could not deny.

  Full bottom, full thighs, the treasure that she hid between them, were all too much to resist.

  I wanted all of her, wanted to touch her everywhere all at once, but I would settle for this.

  I walked toward her slowly, unbuckling my belt and pants as I moved.

  I was ready, had been on the edge for two days now, and when I lowered my pants, my cock emerged, fully hard and ready for her.

  I gathered what strands of control I had, little that there were, and touched her.

  I palmed her cheeks, kneading the generous flesh, feeling a surge of pride and satisfaction when she arched her back, pressed further into my grip.

  I reached around her, again buried a hand between her thighs.

  When my hand touched her bare flesh, both of us breathed out a harsh breath.

  She was slick, getting slicker by the moment, and I could feel the hard nub of her clit throbbing, practically begging for my touch.

  And that, I was more than happy to give.

  I teased her clit with my thumb, toying with the nub.

  As I did I watched Mia, saw the way she threw her head back, arched her back even deeper, clinging to the edge of the couch, her fingers closed so tight that I could see the skin of her knuckles stretched taut.

  Seeing her like this didn’t leave me unaffected.

  The desire to bury myself inside her was overwhelming, almost too strong to ignore. I bit my lip, then moved my finger down her slick skin, paused at the mouth of her sex.

  I pushed in slowly, using a patience I didn’t know I had.

  I slid my finger in and out of her, was rewarded by little mewling cries.

  My cock was leaking, straining toward her with the need to be inside her.

  I added another finger, wanting to make sure she was ready.

  She took me without struggle, though her tightness only made me anticipate what being inside her would be like even more.

  I was close to the edge, so I pulled my fingers out, and anchored my hands on her hips and then lined our bodies up, my cock probing her entrance.

  I didn’t have time for finesse, didn’t have time for anything but being inside her.

  I rocked my hips, filled her in one stroke that made us both cry out.

  Her walls gripping me, her tightness pulling at me was indescribable, a pleasure so intense it made it impossible for me to breathe.

  I’d never felt anything like this, some distant part of me wondered if I ever would again, but that thought, all others were lost in the sea of passion I had found myself in.

  I knew that I’d wanted her, had known that the moment I had her would be a triumph, but this was unlike anything I had expected, anything I could have prepared for.

  Like this, I wasn’t me, and she wasn’t the person who had betrayed me, tossed me aside like trash.

  No, I was just a man who found myself at the mercy of a woman whom I feared I would soon become addicted to.

  I moved, half crazed, slamming into her hard, the sound of our bodies slapping filling the room.

  I reached between her thighs again, twisted her clit hard, and froze when she arched, clamped her walls down on me tight.

  The sensation was intense, so much so that I couldn’t hold back.

  I thrust once, twice, one last time and then spilled myself inside of her, my seed leaving me in a rush.

  I held her as we both came down from that chattering climax, my breath taking far longer than usual to return to normal, resting against a limp Mia.

  My instinct was to lay my head against her shoulder, kiss her neck, murmur in her ear.

  But that couldn’t happen.

  Instead, I pulled out of her and stepped away abruptly.

  She turned to look at me, watched as I tucked myself back inside my pants.

  When I finished, I looked at her, and my gaze was momentarily taken by the wetness I could see on her thighs, a physical representation of the way we had just been together.

  Seeing that made me want her even more, and that want meant I couldn’t stay.

  I stayed silent, watching her, and I could see she grew increasingly uncomfortable, saw as she tried to pull down her shirt to cover her body.

  “The driver will see that you get back to the hotel,” I said.

  Then, I turned and left.

  Twelve

  Mia

  *

  I stood, frozen, for several minutes after Alex left.

  It was only the trickle that I felt sliding down my thigh that made me move.

  I grabbed a few cloth napkins, loath to use them, but not seeing anything else, and quickly wiped myself and hid the napkins in the bottom of the garbage can. Then I put back on my underwear and pants, all the while trying to pretend that I wasn’t still shivering from my climax, trying to pretend that humiliating encounter hadn’t been the best sex of my life.

  Although I moved, I kept hoping that he would come back, cursing myself for doing so, and even more knowing that he wouldn’t.

  What had happened between us had been Alex’s way of proving a point, a point that I was determined to make myself understand.

  He’d told me, more than once, exactly what this was, and I’d thought I believed him. Had told myself I was certain that no matter what I might think, I had no illusions about what this was and what it wasn’t. But despite what I may have thought, Alex seemed intent on driving his point home.

  I had never felt so small, so dismissed as I had in those moments when he looked at me, his expression icy, as though nothing had happened between us.

  I hated myself for it, but I felt used and discarded. Probably exactly as Alex had intended.

  Why? I wasn’t entirely sure. It wasn’t as though Alex tried to pretend, but the crassness, the lack of care he’d shown was something I couldn’t just make myself ignore.

  This wasn’t him, didn’t feel like him. But what it felt like could in no way compete with the reality of the situation.

  And that reality was that I was alone, my body still tingling from his touch, my heart still racing faster than usual, my sex aching for him.

  That might have been the worst part of all.

  Alex had been clear about what he wanted from me, and the way this evening had unfolded supported his words.

  All of that should have been enough to kill any desire I might have had for him.

  But it didn’t, not in the least. Because every time I thought about how angry I felt, how disgusted, I remembered how it had been for him to touch me, how those few moments with him made me feel more alive than any other of my entire life.

  I wished for some other explanation, wished there was a way I could deny it, but doing so was impossible.

  I looked around the room, still taken by the view, though not nearly as much as I had been before. And then, finally, I decided to leave. I didn’t want to be in this room for a single second longer, didn’t want to have such an obvious reminder of what I had done, and what I hadn’t.

  But even as I left, I knew that leaving this place wouldn’t free my mind from
what had happened.

  No, that was something I would remember forever, a memory tinged with both good and bad, like everything was with Alex and me.

  I walked down the hallway on shaky legs, and made my way back to the glass elevator.

  The ride down was quick, and soon I found myself in the lobby.

  I paused for a moment, almost panicking, not sure what to do.

  I spotted a familiar face standing to the far side of the room, and walked toward him feeling conspicuous, though it didn’t seem that anyone was paying me any particular attention.

  Alex’s driver tipped his cap and then held the door open for me. He hadn’t even bothered to give me his name, and I had been too frazzled to ask before, was still too frazzled to ask now.

  So I got back into the limo, noting how spacious it seemed when Alex and the intensity that was like a physical thing around him wasn’t in it.

  Yet, for the second limo ride of my life, I was unable to concentrate.

  The streets passed by in a blur, the sights and sounds, something that ordinarily would fully capture my attention, barely managing to penetrate.

  No, instead of enjoying the smooth ride, the beautiful surroundings, my mind kept reverberating back and forth between the memory of how it had felt to be with Alex and the excruciating hurt of the way he had left.

  I wasn’t naive enough to think that his departure wasn’t intentional, knew that hurting me had been a part of his aim, even if it wasn’t conscious. I probably shouldn’t even give him that benefit of the doubt, but it hurt me to think of Alex as someone who would intentionally do harm, even to me, a person he seemed to hate so immensely.

  But still, he had done it, and for several long moments I wondered whether I should go through with this. Whether I could.

  My father could take care of himself. It wasn’t my responsibility to do this for him, especially not at the cost of my own pride.

  But just as quickly, I scoffed at the very thought, knowing I didn’t have a leg to stand on, and even if I did, I didn’t want to stand on it.

  My father could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he would take care of the people who depended on him. And no, it wasn’t my responsibility, but it was one I had taken on, one that I didn’t trust anyone else with.

  Noble enough reasons, and were I a different person, I would pat myself on the back for my sacrifice, be proud that I was willing to put myself through so much for my town and the people who lived in it.

  It was one of the rare times in my life that I hated the fact that I couldn’t lie to myself. A lie would have been so much more comforting than the truth.

  Because the truth was, Alex had treated me disrespectfully, used me like I was no more than a whore who existed for his pleasure.

  I was exactly that, nothing more than a tool for Alex’s use.

  I could try to tidy it up, pretend that this was something it wasn’t, but I wouldn’t do that.

  Just like I wouldn’t pretend there was any way I was going to leave.

  My skin practically burned with my embarrassment, the heat of the shame of what had happened only matched by my desire to have it happen again.

  Admitting that was something that pierced me, felt like a physical punch in the stomach, but it was true.

  Because Alex touching me, him inside me, nothing I’d ever experienced compared to it, and those few brief moments, moments that I would both hate and treasure forever, wouldn’t be enough.

  I’d heard the old saying that love was stronger than pride, but that wasn’t the case for me.

  What I felt for Alex wasn’t love.

  It was something different, something even more intense. Lust, pure and simple, was so strong that it had overridden any pride I might have had, made it impossible for me to leave him.

  That would cost me. It already had. But, as pathetic as it was, I knew I was willing to pay the price.

  *

  Alex

  *

  I had set out of the club on foot, needing the air and space to collect myself.

  I’d already been through so much emotional turmoil since Mia had shown up, but tonight was different.

  Before, all of this had been abstract. Me thinking of what I wanted to do to her, the way I wanted to both take her and return the hurt that she had delivered to me.

  And both had been satisfying.

  Fucking Mia, even that way, fast and not slow and leisurely like I had anticipated, had been better than anything I could have conjured. I had expected as much, knew that the attraction I felt for her was one that would be difficult to contain, and I knew what I imagined wouldn’t live up to my expectations.

  But Mia had exceeded them, sent me to an entirely new plane.

  Even now, after having been so recently satiated, I wanted her again, could feel myself hardening, the anticipation of taking her again back even though I had barely caught my breath.

  That wasn’t something I had anticipated.

  I’d hoped that once I’d had her one time, it would take some of the edge off, but the exact opposite had happened.

  That small taste of her had proven insufficient, had only whet my appetite for even more. Exactly the thing I didn’t want to have happen, but one that I now knew was completely unavoidable.

  And then there were other aspects to consider.

  Ones like hurting her.

  I wouldn’t pretend that I hadn’t consciously done it, because I had. I also wouldn’t pretend that I hadn’t seen her hurt. Even though she hadn’t spoken a word, she had worn that hurt on her expression, and in her body.

  One moment she had been wanton, completely free, unleashed, and in the next had come shyness, the desire to shield herself from my eyes. That was as clear an indication as any I might get of how she felt about what had happened, how she felt about me.

  Part of me was angry with her for that.

  How dare she look at me like that, like I had hurt her?

  I had been very direct about what I wanted, what this arrangement was, and she had accepted my terms. I no longer thought of Mia as a naive, small-town girl. In truth, I didn’t know if she had ever been that. One thing I definitely knew was that when she looked at me, I had seen her disappointment.

  Had she been expecting hugs and kisses and me lingering? I thought she had, practically knew it. That wasn’t a surprise.

  I knew she had, or that she’d once had, some interesting notions about courtship and sex, and none of those had been fulfilled by that encounter.

  But that wasn’t my fault.

  Still, even knowing that, even having seen her hurt wasn’t entirely pure.

  Yes, there had been some triumph, some happiness when I had seen the hurt in her expression.

  It wouldn’t ever compete with the hurt that she had caused me, didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of that, so why then was that moment of triumph tinged by regret?

  Because as much as I knew she deserved my anger, didn’t deserve my care, it still wasn’t natural for me to hurt her.

  I thought I had gotten over that instinct to protect her, one that felt as ingrained in me as anything, but as with several other things, I had been wrong.

  It had felt awful to see Mia in distress, distress that I had intentionally caused, and do nothing about it. It went against everything I had understood of myself, of her, to not intervene and try to make her feel better.

  And I didn’t understand that. Even after all she had done, old promises I had made to myself about how I would make her pay, how was it possible that I still wanted to protect her?

  I had no idea, but I knew I would have to get rid of that feeling. There was no room for it, and I wouldn’t allow myself to lose this vengeance I had so deeply wanted to sentimentality.

  As I walked, I felt some of the tension that had been in my stomach relax.

  Yes, I knew what this was about, as did Mia. Her feelings, mine, didn’t really matter.

  All that mattered was her f
illing her end of the bargain, and me getting her out of my system.

  The rest of it, her reactions, her feelings, her hurt, even my triumph, were secondary.

  By the time I reached my office, I almost believed it.

  I considered going home, but knew that doing so would only lead me to restlessness, and that restlessness would lead me back to her.

  I wanted that, wanted her again, and again, but I couldn’t go back, not today.

  So instead, I lost myself in work, trying to keep thoughts of her at bay, knowing that each second that ticked by was one that would bring me closer to her again.

  Thirteen

  Mia

  *

  I’d been convinced I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but the next morning, the gentle sunlight filtering through the sheer hotel curtains woke me from what had proven to be a deep slumber.

  After I’d gotten back from Alex’s “establishment,” I had come in, showered for what felt like forever, though it did nothing to wash away the embarrassment of the encounter with Alex.

  Then I had lain in the soft, luxurious bed, blinds open, watching the city streets and skyline.

  My body had been exhausted, probably a combination of all the emotions and the travel, but my mind had been whirling, thinking about what had happened, anticipating what would happen next, hating myself for that.

  I’d told myself I didn’t need to understand Alex, that what he was going through, what was really driving all of this didn’t matter, but that hadn’t helped calm my thoughts any.

  For hours, I had vacillated back and forth, remembering my anger and disgust at myself and at him, but even more, remembering the passion, the connection that we had shared. That couldn’t have been fake, and it was definitely more than sex. My experience was limited, but even I knew that, knew that the kind of connection we’d shared had to be more than physical.

  Or it might have been wishful thinking.

  That might have made it easier. Definitely would have made it easier, if I could pretend that this was all some creation of my mind.

  But I couldn’t.

  I had seen the way Alex had looked, had seen at least some of the emotion that he had worked so hard to hide. It wasn’t just lust, though I knew that was a big part of it. There was emotion there, hurt, hatred for me, but maybe something else.