by S. E. Lund
"I don’t want to compete," I replied, wanting to stand up for myself. "I just want to get what I'm worth." Of course, that made me feel even worse, and I had to bite my cheek to stop more tears.
He nodded. "I think you're getting a fair deal. Look at it this way. If I hadn’t paid off Graham's debt, Graham would be dead now, and Stepan and his boys would be after you for your inheritance—with interest. You'd probably owe him three hundred thousand instead of one-fifty. You'd still have no money. You'd have to work two jobs to afford your room and board at Harvard. You’d probably be so tired, your grades would fall. You'd lose your tuition scholarship. Then you'd really be in trouble. You'd be working for beans at a job seven days a week just to scrape by. This way, you get your inheritance back, you get to stay at Harvard, and keep up your grades. That sounds pretty sweet. There are probably thousands of people who would jump at the chance to have your little ethical problem."
Then he turned and left me alone, going down the hall to his room and closing the door.
I sat there for a few minutes, wondering if he'd come back and order me onto my knees or something, shove his dick down my throat—I could imagine all kinds of acts he might make me do, some of them making me a bit achy inside.
But nothing.
He didn’t come back.
After about ten minutes of sitting in front of the television, I went down the hallway and stood outside his bedroom. I checked under the door and realized he'd turned off his bedroom light.
He'd gone to bed.
Totally surprised by now, I went to the bathroom across from my own bedroom and brushed my teeth once more to get the taste of whisky out of my mouth, then went to my own room and changed into my nightgown.
Finally, I climbed under the bedcovers, amazed at the turn of events that had led to me being in Hunter's apartment, in a separate bed, wondering when we'd actually fuck and what he'd make me do.
The night passed slowly. I didn’t sleep well, being in a strange huge bed all alone in a strange room. I woke up several times, wondering what Hunter had planned for the morning. I slept in fits and starts, and finally, woke up at six, jumping up and slipping into the bathroom for a pee. I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Call girl. Not even a high-class call girl.
I turned on the shower and stepped inside, wishing I had the foresight to bring a fresh pair of underwear, but whatever. I'd stop off at my dorm on the way to class.
I finished washing and stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom, grabbing a huge fluffy towel, which I wrapped around my body. I brushed my hair and then my teeth, and considered myself in the mirror.
Hunter knocked at the bathroom door.
"Yes?" I said hesitantly.
"You're up already," he said, his voice sounding amused. "Eager beaver."
I frowned, not sure whether he meant the double entendre. "I had a terrible night’s sleep."
"That's too bad. As for me, I slept like a baby."
I had started to put my clothes back on when he jiggled the doorknob. "Come on out. I need a bath."
"I'm getting dressed."
"Don't bother," he replied. "I'll just end up undressing you. Although that might be fun…"
I put down my bra and stopped dressing. Then, I wrapped the towel around myself again, frowning. I opened the door a crack and saw Hunter standing there in his black boxer briefs. Steam billowed out of the door.
"You're really going to go through with this, aren’t you?"
His eyes narrowed. "You thought I was joking?"
I frowned. "I thought you were more honorable than that."
"I'm not."
I took in a deep breath and opened the door fully, leaving the bathroom with my clothes on the floor.
"What do you want me to do first?" I said, not meeting his gaze, because I knew he'd be grinning. "Shall I get on my knees? You must have liked that the other day. Maybe on all fours? Or on my back?"
I couldn't keep the hurt out of my voice, despite the fact that even making those suggestions made me wet, my body betraying my mind.
"I was thinking of a bath. Nice and warm to help with these," he said and when I glanced up at him, I saw the bruises he pointed to. They looked nasty and must have hurt. "Some of those bath salts would be good. Then, I want breakfast and coffee."
My cheeks heated and I said nothing. Instead, I marched to his bedroom, past his huge four-poster bed, and into the huge ensuite bathroom with its soaker tub. I bent down and started the bath, feeling the water to make sure it was nice and warm but not too hot. There was an unopened jar of bath salts beside the tub, with a scoop attached. The scent was some tropical flower.
Hunter entered the bathroom and watched me while I worked.
"You really want this in your bath?"
He stepped closer and picked the jar up. "The decorator said bath salts were good for sore muscles. What the fuck is freesia anyway?"
"It's a flower."
"Whatever. Do you like it?"
"What does it matter if I like it?"
He shrugged, half a grin on his mouth. "You're going to get in, too."
"I just had a shower."
"You need to wash my… back. The tub's too big for you to do it from outside."
I glanced around and saw a long wood-handled scrub brush with a loofah on the end, meant to wash a person's back.
Score!
I grabbed it. "I can use this." I smiled back at him.
He took it from me and broke it in half, handing the two pieces to me. "Not anymore."
"I can't believe you just did that," I said, frowning.
"I did," he said, his smile brilliant.
"You're enjoying this."
"Not as much as I'm going to enjoy it, soon enough. Put the bath salts in if you like them. Or not. I'll leave that up to you."
I frowned and examined the jar. I opened the lid, and took a whiff of the scent. It was nice. I put a scoop in and watched as the bath water became foamy, bubbles appearing on the surface.
The two of us stood there, watching, and then he stood closer, right behind me. The water level rose to about half full.
"Get in," he said, his voice soft. "I'll be right behind you."
I swallowed back my nerves, noting that my body was ready, my groin achy with desire even when my mind was busy fighting him.
I dropped my towel and quickly stepped in, not looking back when he pulled down his boxer briefs and stepped in behind me. I steadfastly refused to look at his body, which I knew would be beautiful. I remembered how beautiful—hard and lean, but buff, his skin fair and unblemished. Most of all, I didn’t want to look at his face, because I'd see amusement there. He liked having me at his disposal. Under his control.
The truth was that I liked it a bit too much for my own good.
I sank below the waterline so he couldn't see my breasts, and watched as he sank down as well. I couldn’t help but notice his erection, which was as big and thick as I remembered. Seeing his arousal sent a throb through my core and I imagined impaling myself on him and how good it would feel, especially since I was starting to feel a deep ache in my body. It had been too long since I’d felt a man inside me.
He turned off the water and then leaned back across from me, his legs spreading and slipping on either side of me at the other end of the huge tub. I heard him sigh in pleasure as he sank deeper, his head resting on the edge of the tub. He closed his eyes for a moment and we sat there in silence, the drip drip drip of the tap and the bubbles breaking around us the only sounds.
He cracked one eye open and looked at me. "Come over here," he said, his voice throaty. "Lie on top of me."
I hesitated. I could resist, or I could shut off my brain and just let my body take over. It was clear my body wanted him, even if I hated this arrangement I'd gotten myself into.
Then I realized something. I'd always wanted Hunter. I still wanted Hunter. Having sex with Hunter was not going to be unpleasant. In fact, I expected it
would be very pleasant indeed.
He seemed like he wanted to play with me. He wanted to tease me. He wasn't going to just wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. He wanted to fuck. Even if this wasn't going to be as good and as memorable as the first time he fucked me, it wouldn't feel anything like work.
I took in a deep breath and crawled over to him, my body floating above his, my face just inches from his. I lay there, above him, my legs between his knees, my hands on the side of the tub beside his shoulders.
God, he was beautiful. His face, despite the cut and butterfly sutures on his cheek, was beautiful, his eyes so light blue against his thick dark lashes. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring, and licked his lips—his full sensuous lips.
"Kiss me," he ordered.
I bit my bottom lip, unable not to resist just a bit. "I thought prostitutes didn't kiss their johns."
I raised my eyebrows at him expectantly.
"You're no prostitute and I'm no john," he replied and then he reached one hand behind my head and pulled me to him, my lips meeting his in a kiss that sent a jolt of lust through me from my chest right to my clit, my core aching to feel him fill me up completely. My mouth opened when his did, and he groaned when his tongue touched mine. He pulled me closer, the water splashing around us, his hands slipping down my back to grab a buttock and pull me against his groin.
His erection was hard against my belly and I longed to rub myself against it, to feel it push inside of me, spreading me, filling me.
"Oh, God," I said when our kiss ended. I hadn’t intended to let him know how aroused I was, but it slipped out despite of my attempts to control myself.
He pulled back and met my eyes, his half-lidded. "That's what I want to hear."
We lay like that, his legs trapping my body against his, his erection jutting into my groin, my arms around his shoulders, both of us panting with arousal.
"Don't you want me to wash you?" I asked lightly, trying to look coquettish.
His eyes narrowed. "Good idea." Then he pushed me back to my place across from him. He got on his knees and crawled over so that he was between my thighs. Of course, his big, thick, beautiful cock was right at eye level. He leaned his hands against the wall behind me and looked down. I glanced up and met his gaze. His longish hair fell into his eyes, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were parted. At that moment, he was so gorgeous and so dominant, I felt breathless beneath him.
I knew what he wanted. In front of my face, his dick throbbed, the head wet.
"Suck me," he ordered but he didn't need to say anything. I would have on my own, because I’d loved the way he responded that night so long ago when I took him in my mouth that first time.
I leaned forward and licked the head, lapping around the crown, then took the head in my mouth, making sure to glance up and meet his eyes when I did.
"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and bit his lip. "Suck me, Celia."
I did, one hand grasping his shaft, while I worked my tongue under the head and around the crown once more. Then I took him in deeper—as deep as I could before gagging on him, he was so big and thick. He pulled back and I started a smooth rhythm, taking him in deep and then pulling off with a loud wet pop while my hand stroked his shaft.
I squeezed him, pulling out some moisture, then licked the head and he groaned to watch me taste him. Before I could take him in deep once more, he stopped me and stood up, lifting me up with him.
"Enough," he said and stood up, towering over me. He reached down, and I took his hand and stood up as well. He helped me out of the tub and onto the mat, where the two of us dripped for a moment. I reached for a towel but he grabbed my arm and led me out of the bathroom and over to his huge bed. He gripped me under my arms and lifted me up onto the bed, and I turned and crawled up, turning to lie on my back. He crawled up behind me and spread my thighs with his hands, kneeling there, staring down at me, possession clear in his eyes.
I was his at that moment. Completely his to do with as he wanted. I'd be his for weeks—maybe a full year—and he could do whatever he wanted, every night of the week if he wanted.
I liked that idea far too much for my own good.
That knowledge did something to me, my pulse rapid, my body throbbing with lust. I wanted him to push his big thick cock into me and fuck me until I came, but he had other plans. First, he lay completely on top of me, his weight almost crushing me, but it was a comforting weight. I slipped my legs around his hips, wanting to feel his hard cock against my clit, and rub against it wantonly.
He kissed me again, sucking my tongue into his mouth, devouring me with his kiss as I kissed him back hungrily. Our wet bodies pressed against each other, the pressure in all the right places making me even more aroused. He broke the kiss and began licking and kissing my skin—my neck, my collar bone, then down to one breast, which he squeezed. I glanced down to see my breast in his hand, my nipple hard. He licked it, ran his tongue all around the areola, and then took it between his lips and sucked, his tongue pulling at it so that shocks of lust coursed through my body right to my clit.
"Oh, God," I moaned, my eyes closing.
"Watch me," he said in a throaty voice.
I opened my eyes and watched as he moved from one nipple to the other, squeezing my breasts together and lapping his tongue across them, nipping them with his teeth just enough to make me gasp, but without pain.
"Now I'm going to eat you, Celia. I've been thinking about eating you ever since I saw you in the club. I'm going to eat you until you scream my name."
His expression was so intense that I knew he intended to do just that. He moved down my body, lower, his face over my belly, kissing a trail down to my mound. Then he pressed my thighs completely open, his gaze on my pussy.
I ached to feel his mouth on me, his fingers in me, his cock in me. Anything to relieve the arousal I felt. He spread my lips and then glanced up, meeting my gaze. He licked me deliberately, not taking his eyes off mine, wanting me to watch him. I gasped to feel his tongue on my clit, soft and warm and wet against my aching flesh. He kept licking me, running his tongue all around my clit, and then down to the opening to my body. My whole pussy throbbed with need and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came if he kept that up.
Which he did.
He slipped a finger inside me, and I remembered that night five years earlier when he had done the same—the first time I’d felt a man touch me that way. He slipped two fingers inside, stroking up exactly the right way. When he clamped his mouth over my clit and sucked me into his mouth, I groaned out loud, not caring what I sounded like. He sucked and stroked me, and soon I felt the familiar sensation as my orgasm approached. The lust made me breathless, my core tightening as pleasure spread through me.
"Oh, God, Hunter…" I cried out as my orgasm crested. He kept his mouth on me, sucking me so intently. I tried to stop him because it was too much, but he only slowed the motion of his tongue. I shuddered beneath him, gasping from the sensations that rocked through my body.
My response was so intense it startled me. When he finally removed his mouth from me, I collapsed back, covering my eyes with a hand.
I felt embarrassed that he could make me respond that way. Someone who I knew hated me. Someone to whom I hadn’t spoken more than a few dozen words in five years.
But I'd gone months without a lover and clearly, all my solo masturbatory sessions hadn’t been enough to keep me fulfilled.
I needed a man. Hunter had proven that to me more clearly than anything else could have.
"That was fast, " he said and when I opened my eyes, he was grinning up at me, his face still above my pussy, his fingers still deep inside me. "A little needy, are you, Celia?"
I couldn't help but clench around his fingers when he licked me slowly once more.
"Oh, God," I gasped, his tongue sending new shivers through me.
"You’re ready for more," he said and pulled out his fingers. "Nice and wet. I'll give you more. I'll give you this," he
said and knelt between my thighs, his thick hard shaft in his hand. Precum dripped from the head. He crawled on top of me, his knees on either side of my chest and leaned his hands against the wall so that his cock was positioned over my face.
"Suck me again," he ordered. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to receive him, licking the precum from the tip, tasting him. I took the head in my mouth once more and sucked while he gripped the shaft, feeding me his cock slowly. "That's nice."
He thrust slowly in my mouth and I did my best to keep my teeth from the head, sucking him when he thrust, releasing when he pulled out. His body was taut above me, his muscles all tense. I wondered if he'd come in my mouth but he pulled off completely. I licked my lips, waiting for what he wanted next.
"I'm going to fuck you until you come on my cock, Celia," he said, his voice low, sexy.
I knew he would, and I knew I would, because sucking him, tasting him, watching him feed me his cock had aroused me once more. I needed to come again, and knew I would if he filled me up and fucked me.
He leaned over to the bedside table and removed a condom, unwrapped it, and unrolled it over his erection. Then he crawled lower on the bed and lifted my hips so that one thigh was on either side of his hips. He leaned over me while he knelt like that and pressed the head of his cock against my clit, rubbing the head all over my slit. I could feel how wet I was, the head of his cock sliding easily up and down my flesh, around my clit and then down again to the entrance to my body.
I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me as he built me back up again with his cock. One hand grabbed one of my breasts, squeezing, his thumb circling the nipple until it was hard. He leaned down for a moment and sucked each nipple, biting each one gently before licking them to soothe them.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured as he rose and watched while he rubbed his cock against my clit. "I'm going to fuck you hard."
When he pressed the head of his cock against the opening to my body, I gasped, needing him to fill me up, almost desperate to feel him stretch me open wide.