by Sienna Ciles
I pulled away from her legs and slithered up along her body, my fingers working her. “You’re trying to keep me from winning,” I told her, kissing her sloppily on the lips.
“S-so...So what?” Bethany’s hips bucked against my hand and she let out a dismaying moan.
“So, wouldn’t it be better to finally come, instead of winning a stupid little bet?” I dipped down and nibbled at her throat before claiming her mouth again. “I know you could be coming right now if you really wanted to give in.”
“I--I...fuck,” Bethany cried out, and I felt her whole body go tense in a different way, a way that I knew very well. She shivered uncontrollably against me and under me as she gave into the orgasm rippling through her nerves, and I kept working her as long as she writhed and twisted, only starting to slow down when I felt her begin to relax.
“You came,” I told her, withdrawing my fingers from her.
“Not--not really,” Bethany stubbornly insisted, pouting at me even as she panted for breath.
“You did,” I said.
She looked at the clock. “But it wasn’t within an hour,” she told me triumphantly.
“Only because you were holding back,” I said, laughing. “You cheated.” Without the focus on getting her off, I could think of how incredibly hard I was. My cock was throbbing, aching in my pajama pants.
“Fine, fine,” Bethany said, rolling her eyes. “You can look at the list of adoptive parents in the database. But that’s it.”
I grinned, for a second forgetting about the pain in my cock. It was blue balls from hell.
As if she’d read my mind, Bethany glanced down at the tent I’d popped in my pajama pants. “It only seems fair for you to let me get you off, after that,” she said, sounding as natural and as matter-of-fact as I could imagine any woman being when it came to offering to get a guy off.
“What did you have in mind?”
Bethany sat up, giving me quite a delicious view, and turned to face me fully.
“A little quid pro quo,” she replied, licking her lips.
Chapter Fifteen
Bethany
My mind was still reeling from what Ransom had managed to do to me, and I felt like curling up in a little ball and giggling myself silly. A sensation like warm honey, mingled with ticklish shivers, crackled through my body. I licked my lips again and gave Ransom a speculative look. “Unless you think I can’t do better than you?”
“Oh please, I know you can get me off in less than an hour,” Ransom said, rolling his eyes. “I could get me off in about five minutes if I really wanted to.”
“So, let me return the favor,” I said.
Ransom pressed his lips together and I wondered just what his holdup could be.
“Fine,” he said. “Have at it.” He spread his hands in front of himself to gesture for me to do as I liked.
I pushed him back against the headboard and straddled his thighs, leaning in to kiss him quickly on the lips. He still tasted like my fluids, and I was surprised at how much I liked that taste--me mingled with him. I’d always managed to find a reason to not kiss a guy who’d gone down on me until after he’d had something to drink, or brushed his teeth.
I stripped off Ransom’s shirt and then reached down to his pajama pants, and he helped me get them off of him, lifting his hips and shimmying as I tugged. His cock sprung free fully erect, and I had to take a moment to just appreciate it, and him. It’s a shame I’m not into dating or sex, because if I was...and if I could charm him into being with me for real…
Ransom was obviously serious about his grooming, in spite of his slightly scruffy appearance the night before: his bare chest had a fine dusting of dark hair across it, and a dark treasure-trail shot down from his navel to the nest of neatly-trimmed pubic hair around the base of his cock. He had muscles, but he wasn’t hugely built, just firm and trim and lean, and even though I’d gone down on all five of the guys I’d been with, the sight of Ransom’s erection was enough to give me a moment of wonder. It looked to be seven or eight inches long, flushed so dark it was almost purple, with just the slightest, most delicate curve to it. It was bigger than any of the guys I’d been with, and I was glad he hadn’t tried to actually have sex with me to get me off--I didn’t think I would have been able to completely stand either the length or girth of him.
I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock firmly, falling back on the skills I’d taught myself to make the few adult relationships I’d had work. I started stroking Ransom as I kissed him on the lips, and then the center of his chest, and then the spot just above his navel. All that was left then was his cock itself, and I shifted down along his long, spread legs and made myself comfortable perched between his knees, bringing my mouth down to the tip of his erection.
I barely touched my lips to it and then slid the head into my mouth, sucking lightly and swirling my tongue around him. The sharp, salty-slick taste of his precum coated my tongue, and I swallowed, even as I slowly took more of him into my mouth. It was surprisingly good, when I mentally compared the taste of him to the taste of other guys I’d been with. Of course, my sample size was tiny, but I had to admit that I preferred Ransom’s unique flavor to that of the other guys.
I started working him in earnest, finding my rhythm, pumping my hand up and down to meet my mouth. I knew I couldn’t take all of him in my mouth, but I tried to take as much of him as I possibly could, until the tip of his cock brushed up against my gag reflex and made me almost choke. I backed off just enough to let the reaction subside and tried again, a little more slowly. I swallowed again and again, getting my throat used to the sensation of thick, hot flesh and the fluids leaking from it. Maybe it was just because Ransom had only taken a shower about an hour before we started fooling around, but he smelled good, too.
I found myself getting turned on again as I felt my efforts beginning to have an effect. Ransom’s hand found the back of my head and for a second I thought he was going to try and force me down harder on his cock, but instead he just stroked my scalp, tangling his fingers in my hair and rubbing lightly as he moaned. I could feel the tension in his thighs, in his hips, as he started responding to my sucking, licking, and stroking--but he was being gentle with me, almost like he didn’t want to hurt me.
I got more and more excited, and actually started to get into what I was doing, working Ransom faster as my mouth and reflex began to get used to the onslaught of his length and girth. I tightened my lips around him and reached down with my free hand to cup his balls lightly, giving them a careful half-squeeze, and Ransom groaned out long and low--a sound I recognized from earlier in the night, when he’d been masturbating in the shower. I smiled around his erection and kept it up, wanting to get him off as quickly as possible. Not just because of my pride, but also out of a desire to give him back some of the pleasure he’d given me.
I could feel him trying to hold back, even as his hips bucked against my arms, and I struggled to keep up with him, to keep my control over the pillar of flesh between my lips and in my hand. I worked him with everything I had, with all the skills I’d gained, and for a while it was a dead heat between us--me trying everything to make Ransom come, and him trying as hard as he could not to give into it. It was only fair, I thought absently, even as I backed off for a few moments to focus the attentions of my tongue and lips on the tip of his cock before taking him until my lips barely met my fingers. I got my hand as slick as I could, wrapped around his erection, and pumped him, trying to mimic what I thought a vagina would feel like.
All at once he went tense all over, and I felt his balls tighten in my other hand. I backed off to keep from choking, and the next instant the first gush of his climax flooded my mouth. I swallowed instinctively, just in time for the next flood of sharp-salty, hot fluid over my tongue, and then again, slowing down gradually until I felt his cock starting to soften in my hand and against my lips. I pulled back and swallowed the last of him, licking my lips and looking at him. Ransom was flushe
d, sagged against the headboard, his hand still tangled up in my hair and his head tilted back as he panted slightly for breath.
“Not too bad, am I?”
He opened his eyes a crack and laughed breathlessly, shaking his head. “It’s an apples to oranges comparison,” he told me. “You didn’t have anything to prove--not really. I did.”
I rolled my eyes and Ransom gently untangled his fingers from my hair, freeing me completely from his grip. He still smelled good, and some primal, animal part of my brain wanted to roll all over him, rub against him to mingle his scent with mine--something weird like that. I shook it off and sat up on my knees, combing my fingers through my messy hair and composing myself.
“Do you still want access to the adoptive parents database?” In the back of my mind, I’d hoped absently that Ransom would accept the return of his efforts in lieu of the access we’d actually wagered.
“I do. Give me two minutes to get my brain back.”
I chuckled at that, and clambered off of the bed to get my laptop for him. If I wanted to give him access to just the adoptive parents database, I could do that--but I needed to set it up first. I wondered yet again just what Ransom had in mind to do with the information he needed from me, and whether I might not end up regretting striking the particular deal I had.
I logged into the secure area of my company’s website, and started navigating to the database that Ransom wanted. I decided that once I gave him access, I’d give him privacy too--I had no reason to peek over his shoulder with just the database there for him. Besides which, after all the events of the day and the alcohol I’d consumed, I was feeling more than a little sleepy, not to mention that I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until Ransom had given me the massage that had led to my kind-of orgasm.
I handed him the laptop and went into the bathroom to straighten myself up a bit and get ready for bed, trying not to let my curiosity get the better of me again. Whatever Ransom wanted with the information he sought, I couldn’t think of any real way that anyone could trace a crime back to me from it, and I was pretty sure that he wasn’t a truly bad guy, anyway. Certainly, if he was the kind of person I couldn’t trust to use the information he got wisely, I wouldn’t--shouldn’t--feel comfortable sharing a hotel room with him. I finished up and went back into the main part of the room.
“I think I’m going to turn in,” I said. “When you’re done with whatever it is you’re looking for, just shut the computer down and close it up, will you?”
Ransom got up from the bed and took the chairs he’d arranged into a semi-comfortable sleeping spot, nodding to my question absently.
“Will do,” he said. “Thanks.” I shook my head and turned down the duvet on the bed, shutting off the TV and most of the lights. Ransom kept on the reading lamp in his corner of the room, but it wasn’t bright enough to keep me awake. I was asleep in a matter of minutes.
Chapter Sixteen
Ransom
It was almost eleven by the time Bethany and I made it downstairs to the breakfast area, but it still felt too early to me when some of her former classmates called out to us to sit with them.
“We’re on again,” I muttered to Bethany, and she gave me a quick, meaningful look before she slipped her hand in mine, leading me over to the breakfast buffet.
“As long as you remember that you’re passionately in love with me, your name is James, and you’re a caterer, I think we’ll be okay--I don’t think anyone is going to be asking any really probing questions this morning,” Bethany murmured back.
I snorted and looked over the buffet. For a hotel offering, it was actually pretty decent: the eggs in the chafing dish looked like they were actually made of egg instead of powdered egg substitute, and the bacon looked crisp. Bethany and I helped ourselves to food and then gave into the demands to sit with her former “friends.”
“Anyone heard any updates on the events for today?” Bethany asked.
I dug into my eggs--and they were real eggs--and waited for the response to Bethany’s question.
“Since the weather’s taken a turn, they’re moving some of the events around, is the last I heard,” one of the women said.
“Some of the stuff they’d had in mind was outdoors, so that makes sense,” Bethany agreed.
“I guess we can say goodbye to the luau,” one of the guys said.
“You’re glad of that, because they were going to make you take a turn being pit master,” his girlfriend--or maybe his wife--countered.
After some speculation about what the committee was going to come up with instead, people started chatting about general things again, and I made myself pay more attention, since that was my cue to be “on.”
“So, have the two of you taken any vacations yet? I mean, I know you’ve been together what--a year now? Probably too busy for something like that,” someone, whose name I thought was Charlotte, or something close to it, asked.
“I actually brought Beth with me on a couple of business-related trips,” I said quickly. “Mingling business and pleasure, you know?” I grinned at her.
“Oh? Where did you go?” she asked.
I saw the deer-in-headlights look on Bethany’s face, but she was looking straight at me.
“They don’t want to hear our silly vacation stories,” Bethany said, her voice covering for the panic I could see in her eyes.
“They asked, babe,” I pointed out, and reached under the table to give her leg a quick squeeze that I hoped was comforting. “One of the trips was to meet up with a friend of mine from culinary school, since he was starting at a big restaurant in Paris,” I explained.
“Paris? Oh wow!” Murmurs of shock and envy around the table, just like I’d hoped.
“I’ve been a couple of times, but it’s always nice to see the city in the eyes of someone who hasn’t been there before,” I said. “Of course, I think Bethany ended up going on a gym-frenzy when we got back, because what do you do with a chef in Paris?”
“Restaurants,” someone at the table said, almost breathing the word. I pointed at her in a “you got it” gesture.
“I hauled her to so many places on that trip that we got back every centime of our metro passes,” I joked. “We barely had time to do the usual tourist things, and I don’t think we even bothered with the Eiffel Tower, but we made it to all ten of my favorite spots.” I rattled off a few names of restaurants I’d been to in Paris, most of them a bit higher-scale, and thanked the gods that I knew enough to be able to jabber about the place at least somewhat knowingly.
“You said more than one trip?” Charlotte asked.
I shrugged. “I had a big-ticket client who wanted me to come with him to Martinique, to help supervise the catering for an event,” I said.
“Martinique? Where’s that?” someone asked.
“It’s in the Lesser Antilles, in the Caribbean,” I explained. “Not a bad plane ride, all things considered, and of course once you’re there, it’s beaches and tropical food day and night.”
“Oh man, you are so lucky,” one of the other women told Bethany.
“I really am,” she agreed.
“We hiked a bit in the jungle, and I had to practically bathe in aloe after a day on the beach in Les Salines,” Bethany said, and I wanted to cheer her for having at least some clue what to say.
“Any other vacations on the horizon?”
I shrugged off the question. “I mean--if I can get her away from work for longer than a weekend, I’d love for us to go to Italy,” I said. “One of my friends from culinary school went to do an apprenticeship in Sicily, and of course there’s the glorious food in Rome and Venice…” I let my sentence dangle, since I didn’t have as good an idea about what there really was of interest in Italy, beyond the most obvious tourist things.
“This is my only vacation for the next couple of months,” Bethany said, sounding regretful.
We were saved from further questions by the arrival of one of the class officers--I didn’t
pay attention enough to find out which office he occupied--to let us all know what the revised agenda was going to be.
“We’re bringing the luau indoors, so those of you who volunteered to work the pit are still on tap,” he explained. I thought the luau sounded like a mild-mannered good time, and something that Bethany would probably want to do. “We’ll have a hula class, of course--the instructor is staying close to the hotel already, so she can go to the school and teach there, just as well as she could do outdoors.”
The guy continued talking. Apparently the “Phys Ed Olympics” event was going to be changed into an indoor Olympics at the hotel, and instead of the expected nineties costume parade, they were going to have the costume party at a local house, which was only a couple of blocks from the school.
One of the other class officers arrived on the scene and took over. “We’re going to have sign-up sheets for all the events, so make sure to put your name down so we know how many people to expect,” she said, in the chipper kind of voice that made me wonder if she taught kindergarten.
“We’re putting copies of the sheets here, at the school, and at the other hotel most of us are staying at,” the first guy explained. “We’ll be collecting them every morning, so get in early.”
I turned to Bethany. “What do you want to do, sweetie?”
She looked at me in surprise, as the rest of our table went to start signing up for different activities. “I figured I’d go to a few different things and watch.”
“I want to see you hula, girl,” I told her, grinning. “And I definitely want to see you dressed up like a nineties chick, dancing to The Cure and Nirvana.”
“I don’t even have anything that would fit into that,” she told me tartly.
“I think we can figure something out. I have a flannel shirt, and even if the weather isn’t great, we can probably find an open thrift store with some grungy jeans or something,” I countered.