Stiff Drink: Runaway Billionaires: Arthur Duet #1

by Blair Babylon

  “More,” he said.

  She pulled up the skirt, letting it drape down her ass in back.

  “Good girl.”

  Gen was beginning to feel like Arthur’s toy, a sexual plaything, subject to his whims and his use.

  It didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have.

  As a litigating lawyer, Gen was responsible, all day and every day, for so many people’s court cases and defenses that might send them to jail or might restore their lives, plus she worried every waking minute about affording her mother’s care at the nursing home and her treatment there.

  Arthur’s inclination to take complete control over this section of her life sent desire coursing through her, followed by a serious flush of heat to her pussy.

  Letting him have her body and decide what would happen to her was a relief.

  Gen’s eyes widened.

  Arthur played some pretty serious games, and she was falling right into them.

  SUBMISSIVE THERAPY

  For the rest of the movie, about fifteen minutes, Gen leaned against Arthur’s legs while he stroked her hair and shoulders, his fingers skimming down her arms and over her shoulder blades as he smoothed the curls of her hair. A few times, just enough to keep her full attention, his fingers stole down her chest to brush the top rim of the cups of her dress over her breasts.

  She leaned on his legs, rubbing his calves and thighs, daring to sneak her fingers up to trace the shape of his hip. When her hand stole toward his inner thighs, he crossed his legs, denying her.

  By the time the credits rolled on the television screen, she was fidgeting, the naked skin between her legs sensitive and warm. Every time she squeezed her thighs together, her clit zinged a pang of longing up her body.

  The television screen went dark.

  If Arthur stood up and held out his hand for a firm handshake, Gen was going to tackle him and rip his clothes off.

  And then she would feast on what was under those clothes, the triple-shield tattoo on his forearm and the blue and red ribbons that striped his back and down his arms and thighs, the thick muscle that wrapped his arms and chest, and the ripples of his abdominal muscles.

  Her mouth had been around his thumb, and she was hungry for the rest of him.

  Arthur held out his hand to her, palm up. “Take my hand.”

  Gen slapped her hand into his, and he pulled her to her feet. Her dress fell down her thighs again. His hand steadied her until she balanced on her high heels.

  He reclined on the couch, his lean body lying back on the wide cushions, and he patted his thighs. “Sit.”

  Gen started to turn and tucked her dress under her butt, preparing to back up and sit on his legs.

  “No,” he said.

  Gen turned back. “Then how?”

  “Over me,” Arthur said. “Astride.”

  She would have her legs on either side of his, and her pussy would rest directly over his cock, right on the fine cloth of his suit pants.

  She might leave a damp spot.

  “But—” she said.

  “Surely you aren’t arguing with me,” he said.

  “No. Not arguing. It’s just that—” Gen fidgeted, drawing her legs together and accidentally squeezing her clit again. Wanting leapt through her. She gasped a little.

  “Yes?”

  Her hands fluttered in the air. “I’m still not wearing panties.”

  “I should hope not.” The glint is his silver eyes was pure mischief.

  “You see, I might—”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Well, I’m kind of—”

  His voice was low, commanding. “Say it.”

  “Wet,” she admitted.

  His sexy smile widened. “Good girl. Sit here.”

  He clapped his palms on his thighs.

  “Okay, then.” She grabbed handfuls of the gauzy material of her skirt, lifting the hem while she saddled up on his lap.

  His gaze drifted to where her rising skirt bared her legs.

  Her knees rested on the couch on either side of his hips. “Are you sure?”

  Arthur brought his hands around, touching her knees and then rubbing his hands down her calves. “Absolutely.”

  She settled back so that she was sitting with her thighs on his, probably not leaving a wet imprint of her naked pussy on his pants.

  Probably not.

  Under her bare thighs, the thin fabric of his slacks was soft on her skin.

  His hands caressed her calves, running his palms over the muscles on the backs of her legs. He had tilted his head to watch his hands on her legs.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  “Splendid,” Arthur growled. His hands rose, rubbing over the tops of her thighs under her skirt. The thin fabric caught on the cuffs of his shirt and the titanium watch he wore, and he pushed the hem of her skirt up to the tops of her thighs.

  Gen settled her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself.

  He looked up at her, his silver eyes molten. His shoulders rose and fell like he was struggling to breathe. He pressed one of her hands closer to his neck, where the warmth of his skin leaked out of his shirt collar.

  His voice was deep in his throat. “Let us discuss your safe words.”

  Gen ran her fingers through his short, dark hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She said, “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Safe words are the ultimate power. You will always have the power to stop anything that is beyond your limits. If you say one, I will pause or stop entirely, depending on what you say.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “Then I have breached your trust, and you should walk away from me and not look back. I will always honor your safe words. I will always stop.”

  She nodded.

  “I remember your hard limits, what you said when we were out in the deer park. No shoving or crowding you up against walls or other enclosed spaces, no grabbing the back of your neck, no restraints, and no beds. But safe words. You need safe words to tell me if it’s getting too intense for you, if I’m getting too intense for you. For now, let’s use ‘red’ and ‘amber.’”

  “Amber? Oh, that’s right. You Brits have ‘amber’ stoplights instead of yellow ones.”

  “They’re traditional, if somewhat boring. We’ll pick more personal ones later.”

  Her breath was blowing through her lungs and her throat. “So I say—”

  His fingers grasped her thighs, gripping and releasing her skin. “If you want me to slow down or to pause, say ‘amber.’”

  Maybe she should have had more wine with dinner. A lot more wine.

  His silky hair slipped through her fingers. “Okay.”

  He growled, “If you want to stop entirely, to halt everything, you should say ‘red.’”

  She curled her hands around the back of his neck. “Red. All right.”

  He was staring at her bare thighs, his fingers pulsing her flesh. “Say each of them.”

  “Amber,” she said. Her voice was breathless and weak. “Red.”

  “Good.” He slipped his hands farther up her thighs. “Good girl.”

  Her lips parted, watching his hands.

  He looked up, saw her reaction, and smiled. “Now kiss me.”

  Gen lowered her head to his, brushing her lips across his mouth, but he caught her hair at the back of her head in his fist again and pushed her down to him. His mouth opened under hers, sucking at her lips, and Gen kissed him back, harder.

  Arthur’s other hand was still on her leg, under her skirt, stroking her thigh.

  Gen’s head was pulled back by her hair, stretching her throat. She was looking up at the high shelves of the bookcases when the heat of his mouth misted her neck. He touched her with his breath first, still sweet and sugary from dessert and with a whiff of wine from the champagne.

  She held on, her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders.

  He kissed her neck gently at first, his lips d
ragging on her skin. She gasped at his touch. Her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him to her.

  She felt his hand tighten in her hair, pulling. He stretched her neck farther back and sucked at her skin, nipping her with his teeth.

  Her core tightened, the muscles in her abdomen and back flexing.

  She couldn’t help herself. She leaned into him, arching her back.

  Arthur’s hand on her thigh moved backward over her bare hip, reaching around behind her, and he grabbed her ass with his strong fingers.

  Arthur groaned against her neck. He growled, “What is that perfume?”

  Wanting fuzzed her brain. “I don’t know. Roses, vanilla. It’s in a round thing.”

  He bit her neck near her ear, where she had stroked a bit of the scent. “Wear it all the time.”

  “I will,” she gasped.

  He grabbed the cheek of her ass harder, kneading it. “My God, you feel good. So soft. Better than I had thought.”

  Gen bowed her head over his. Shame washed up through the lust that swept through her. “I’m just fat.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her neck. “I’ve been dreaming about you. I’ve wanted to get my hands on that ass of yours for months. Every time you sat down next to me and crossed your legs, I’ve struggled not to stare at your thighs.”

  “Nuh-uh,” she said.

  His low voice shivered on her skin, and his fingers tightened where he was holding her hair and her ass. “One time when I came into your office to pick you up for lunch, you were bending over a file cabinet. Your suit skirt was stretched tight over your ass. I had to hold onto the door frame not to run my hand under your skirt to see what you felt like.”

  He flexed his hand, grabbing her ass again, and he kneaded her flesh.

  “You did not,” she whispered, but she remembered several times that she had caught him staring at her with heat in his eyes.

  “I could stay here all night,” he whispered, “breathing in your perfume, your hair in my fingers and grabbing your ass, but I have a better idea.”

  Gen’s nerves still trembled. “Wh-what?”

  He let go of her hair and stroked down her shoulder. “Do you want to use a safe word?” he whispered.

  “No,” she said. “No safe words. Don’t stop. I’m dying.”

  His low voice washed warmth over her neck. “Good girl.”

  He brought his hand around and under her arm, stroking her side where the zipper strained, and brought his hand up and under her boob.

  Gen arched her back, pushing her breast into his hand, practically offering herself.

  Dammit, she should be more restrained. She shouldn’t be so needy.

  He held her heavy breast in his hand and kissed downward over her collarbone to where she swelled above the top of the dress. His thumb grazed over her nipple through the black fabric.

  Desperation shot through her, a jumping spark that raced along her body from her breast to her mouth and downward, making her ache between her legs.

  Gen gasped and held his shoulders again, which evidently Arthur took as provocation. He grabbed her ass harder, jerking her toward his body, and his thumb rubbed her nipple while he mouthed her skin.

  Her legs were still spread over his, and she hadn’t realized quite how much her folds were stretched open. When he pulled her forward, the soft fabric of his pants rubbed over her aching clit.

  Need erupted in her body, and she clawed at him, arching her back to push her breast into his hand and try to feel his pants against her clit again.

  Arthur slid his hand inside the top of her dress, popping her breast free, and latched onto her nipple with his hot mouth.

  Gen dug her fingers into his shoulders and let her head drop back, whimpering. She keened, “Arthur, please. Please.”

  He licked her nipple inside his mouth and sucked deeply with his lips, and it felt like he was pulling her whole body into him.

  His other hand slid around her hip to the front, his palm stroking her skin, and he rubbed down to her knee and then up the inside of her thigh.

  Gen stopped breathing and held onto his neck, gasping against his skin, waiting for his hand to reach her. The warm scent of his cologne and a faint, masculine musk wafted out of his shirt collar. She pressed her face to his shoulder.

  His fingers stroked the outside of her pussy with gentle, soft strokes. Her skin was so swollen that it should have tickled, but his delicate touch made her shiver and drove her closer to the edge.

  Her voice caught in her throat as she whispered, “Arthur,” and pushed her hips forward on his hand.

  The heel of his hand pressed her clit, and the tips of his fingers slipped inside her. Gen rocked back, driving his fingers deeper inside, rubbing, and his palm massaged every clenching nerve in her pussy as she ground down on him until a bright spark snapped through her, throbbing from her core up her spine.

  Blinding white light filled her, and she fell against him, panting.

  Dear Lord, it had been years since desire had driven her like that. Sure, she had occasionally relieved the shameful tension by furtively fingering herself, but that physical spasm was nothing, nothing, like when Arthur touched her.

  She lay against him, drained and quivering, and blinked back tears. Emotions overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t even name half of them.

  His arms curled around her, holding her against his chest, and his hand reached into her hair again to press her cheek to his heavy shoulder.

  Arthur whispered, “Good girl,” near her ear.

  Gen tightened her arms around his neck, recovering from the quick, blinding orgasm, and was now totally unsure how to act. She tucked her boob back into her dress, embarrassed by so much flesh.

  He stroked her back. Occasionally, his hand drifted down to cup the cheek of her ass, his fingers gripping her flesh for just a minute before he caressed and soothed her again.

  Good Lord, Arthur probably had blue balls. He’d taken care of her, but she hadn’t done a thing for him.

  Gen sat up, still straddling his lap, and pulled her hair over to the side.

  Arthur’s silver eyes were shining in the lights embedded in the carved ceiling overhead. He said, “You are so beautiful.”

  She reached down to his belt and picked at the leather strap threaded through the buckle.

  “No.” He pushed her hands away.

  “But—” She touched his belt again, trying to pull the soft leather.

  Arthur’s voice lowered. “I said, stop.”

  “But you— I should—”

  He grinned at her, even though his grin looked a little haggard. “You were a good girl, but not that good. You need to be better to earn that.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Think about it a little more.”

  The lawyer in Gen’s brain woke up before her common sense. “To be clear, if I’m just a little good, you’ll give me orgasms, but if I’m not any better than that, I don’t have to reciprocate?”

  “If you aren’t a very good girl, yes, you will stall out at this, and that will get boring after a while, don’t you think?”

  “I think I could handle you doing that to me twice a day forever.”

  “Forever?” Arthur asked, humor glinting in his eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to say that,” she blurted. Oh, man. She had been the first one to say something about a long-term arrangement, and that was pressuring him. She hadn’t meant it and wasn’t sure she would even want it. After all, Arthur really was the Earl of Givesnofucks, and she was a chubby, horsey-faced lawyer with a Texas accent. “Let’s forget I said it, okay?”

  That was weird. He was still smiling. “I won’t forget.”

  “Oh, great. Now you’ve got something else to tease me about.”

  That devilish glint lightened his eyes again. “Indeed, I do. I must also mention, while you’re considering your strategy, that if you don’t progress in your training, you’ll never find out what other talents I
have.”

  “Training?” Gen was not okay with that word.

  “That’s the customary term for it,” Arthur said. “We can call it anything you want. Submissive therapy, if you like.”

  “I am not submissive. I’m an assertive, modern, professional woman.”

  His eyes hardened to a shiny silver, and his voice dropped. “Down on your knees.”

  Gen slid off his knees to the floor.

  Arthur stood in front of her and unbuckled his belt. “Open your mouth.”

  If he undid his belt, he might take off his shirt so she could see him again, those corrugated steel abs, broad chest, and the tattoos of the tattered blue and red ribbons across his back and down his arms. She might see them up close.

  No matter what, she was certainly going to experience at least part of him up close.

  She opened her lips and watched his fingers slide his belt through the buckle.

  It was going to be just like when she had been sucking on his thumb, rough, with her hair in his fist.

  Her mouth watered, waiting for him.

  Arthur left his belt dangling, and he used one finger under her chin to raise her face to him. “You can call yourself anything you like, pet, but you’re a sub.”

  She closed her mouth. “A—A what?”

  “A sexual submissive. You’ve heard of this, right?”

  Gen stared at him, many things clearing up in her head. “And that makes you—”

  “A Dom,” he said. “It stands for Dominant.”

  “Why?” The word escaped her mouth before she could stop it.

  “Because I like it, of course. I like it a lot.”

  “No, why are you doing this to me? Are you training me to be your sub?”

  “No, no. I’m saying that you already are a sub. It’s your nature.”

  Gen spread her hands over her knees on the floor. “Then why are you doing this? What’s the expected outcome for this?”

  “The endgame for you is to be able to engage in a normal relationship, not a Dominant and submissive relationship. That’s what you asked me for.”

  “Then why?”

  “You couldn’t stand to touch my hand a few months ago. You could barely dance a waltz in my arms for a few minutes. When I took the choices away from you, you were able to do it. Look at how far you’ve come. You’re doing brilliantly.”