She bobbed her head up and down, feeling the head of him against the back of her throat, her lips curling around his base.
“OK, let me fuck you now.”
Obediently, Kim popped Dave's cock free of her mouth, and unsteadily got to her feet.
Dave was seated on an armless chair in her kitchen, and she turned around and sat gingerly on his lap, running his cock between her asscheeks for a few seconds. Then she reached behind her and, with two fingers, angled him into her. She sat back, and slid him in.
Pulling her hair over one shoulder so it wouldn't hit him in the face with her movements, she put her hands on her knees and starting bouncing up and down on his cock.
“Yeah baby... yeah, that's good...”
She smiled a little smile at that, and picked up the pace, filling the kitchen with the sounds of her ass slapping against his thighs.
After a minute of this, she started to really feel it, and moved a hand down to her clit to encourage that feeling, to fan it stronger...
Then Dave put his hands on her hips, and pushed her forward, so that she almost fell flat on her face. She steadied herself against the counter, and he started pumping at her furiously.
The next thing she knew, Dave was bellowing a groan as he pulled out and came all over her ass.
She turned around, got on her knees, and licked his cock clean as it softened in her mouth.
With a finger, she wiped a drop of it that had dripped down her chin, and put it between her lips with a little pop. Another smile, and she was off to the bathroom to get some toilet paper to wipe herself up.
When she came back into the kitchen, he was pulling on his shoes, and getting up from the chair.
“Hey, so, I gotta go. I'll text you later.”
“Huh? Oh, OK... Have a good time! ...bye!”
He gave her a grunt and a nod as he pulled the front door closed behind him.
...
...And that was the last time she ever saw her boyfriend. Or, rather, her ex-boyfriend.
He had texted her later in the afternoon to tell her as much.
“i thin we shud c othr ppl.steve comin ovr to pckup my cds”
That was all she got – that, and a visit from his disgusting best friend Steve at 11pm that night, who was more than a little drunk, and clearly thinking he could “console” her when she was down...
He only left when she started throwing the CDs at him.
///\
\///
For some reason, that memory flashed in her head in a panicked second while she looked at the man sat across from her in the café.
In fact, pretty much every embarrassing or humiliating experience she'd ever had seemed to be flashing through her head in that moment. It didn't take a genius to puzzle out why: she was sat at a table with the most handsome man she had ever seen in her whole life, bar none.
He was the kind of handsome that makes men want to offer him their daughters' hand in marriage... or just for a one night stand. The kind of handsome that makes models reach for their mirrors, to reassure themselves they haven't turned into frogs. The kind that makes even university professors and Buddhist monks start thinking the life of the mind and worldly detachment might not be all it's cracked up to be.
He had even, chiseled features – high cheekbones above a wide, solid jaw which had been shaved smooth this morning but already showed the faint hint of a late-afternoon stubble.
His long, sleek hair – pitch black, apart from a few, isolated white strands – was pulled back into a short, neat ponytail.
Kim had only seen him standing for a few seconds before he sat down a the little café table, but she would be pretty surprised to learn he was an inch under 6-and-a-half feet. He had the musculature to go with it, as well – great, broad shoulders, and thick biceps, and a barrel chest which seemed to want to break apart the seams of his white shirt, unbuttoned to his sternum.
The only thing which deviated slightly from the typical teenage girl's idle midday daydream were his narrow, heavy-lidded eyes. Not that they made him ugly in any way – just that it departed a little from the Hollywood mold. Later, Kim would find out that this was on account of his Native American heritage. At the time, she feared it was because he was so bored, she was making him sleepy.
In front of such an arresting specimen, it was no wonder Kim's subconscious was playing dirty tricks on her.
What are you doing in the same building as this guy – let alone the same table?! There's no way he's asked you out on a date... this has got to be some kid of prank...
“...Kim?”
She shook her head, to try and clear the niggling voices and wriggling doubts.
“Huh– oh, yes, sorry... I just remembered something unpleasant.”
“Hope it wasn't anything I said that set you off...”
“What? Oh, no no no, I didn't mean to say that, I... oh, nevermind, I should just shut up...”
That was met with a deep, rumbling chuckle, and the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. When he didn't say anything in return, Kim totally failed to take her own advice, and soldiered on.
“I'm sorry, I do that a lot. Space out, that is. My mom used to call me the deep-sea diver – said I couldn't hear anything when I was submerged in my thoughts...”
“Mm, yeah. You mentioned that in your blog. It's pretty endearing, as far as childhood nicknames go.”
“Yeah, I guess it is, considering...........wait, what??”
“What are you referring to with that 'what'?”
“My blog... did you just say you read that in my blog?”
The man reached down to his side and pulled out a manilla folder from the briefcase which rested against his chair.
He laid its contents out on the table: it was the details of her public profile on the dating website he had contacted her on, printed out on A4 pages.
“I guess people might forget about it, because it's only on the first page of the sign-up form, but they ask you if you have a website when they ask for your name and email. It appears on the “About Me” section of the profile, if you click through. So, it sounds like you didn't mean to put it up there, but put it up there you did.”
If she had felt embarrassed and vulnerable before, it was nothing on what Kim was feeling now. “Mortified” might capture something of it.
“You... you read my blog?..... Please tell me it's the Wordpress one I haven't updated in two years...”
“Sorry, it's the tumblr. Aww, really, don't react that way. It really isn't something to be embarrassed about. It made for really interesting reading, actually. I appreciated a lot of your, um... film criticism... and the stuff about the treatment of women in the workplace. Might sound a little far-fetched, but it actually inspired me to convene a meeting with my HR execs this week on the subject.”
He paused a moment; if Kim hadn't had both hands covering the beetroot-red of her face, she would have seen him looking pensive.
“Though, I will admit that the fan art of Christian Grey with that vampire boy from Twilight might be taking the limits of good taste a little too far... I'd never pictured Christian as a closeted gay masochist myself, personally, but I guess it'd work.”
I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die...
“I'm sorry, I... I can't look at you right now.”
“Hah... Honestly, you're taking this way too hard. I'm not saying I wouldn't have called you out if you hadn't made that mistake and put your blog on your profile... but I will say that it definitely helped. I felt a real sense of knowing something about you, of getting to see past some of the carefully-crafted dating website self-presentation, and into something more genuine...”
Kim moved her fingers apart a little, and peeked out from behind her hands with one eye.
“Though, even then... I gotta say your dating website self-presentation wasn't quite as carefully-crafted as some of the other people...”
Kim let her face, still covered by her ha
nds, fall onto the table. The man in front of her laughed again.
“Ha ha... is it really that bad? You really not going to look at me for the rest of the time?”
“Yep.”
“Don't wanna look up, even just for a second?”
“No way...”
“Hm, won't be much fun for you, staring at your hands the whole time... Fine, then. If that's how it is, let's go somewhere higher up the building.”
“Huh?”
Kim lifted her head up a second with that, made brief eye contact, and retreated back into her hands on the table.
“Thought if we went somewhere with a view of the city, you could look at that instead of me...”
Kim heard a scraping noise of a chair across the floor, and felt the man across from her get up from the table.
She had to look up for that. When she did, she saw his back turned to her, a couple paces away, headed toward the door of the cafe.
She looked around herself furtively, as if looking for a clue as to how to proceed.
When no one immediately jumped out with a list of instructions, she just picked up her purse and scurried out after him. Coming up behind his long stride, she asked:
“But... shouldn't we pay the bill?”
He looked back at her over her shoulder, an eyebrow cocked. Without meaning to, she looked down at her feet, as a reflex.
“I really wouldn't worry about that. I doubt the manager'll complain.”
“Why wouldn't he?”
“Because I just gave him a raise last week.”
“Oh, I guess that'd....... huh?”
The man in front of her was hailed by a elevator attendant in the main hall, and started a light conversation.
“Ah, good morning, Martha; how's the new baby? Wow, is he already that big? Well, make sure you don't stay at work too late, OK? Tell Tom I said it's fine for you to get out an hour or two early when you need to. Anyway, yeah, I think we'll take the private elevator; less bustle. Thanks; you too!”
The woman led them around a corner, to a subtly nondescript black elevator a little way's off from the main ones, activating it with a keycard. The man held it open for Kim, inviting her in.
Once inside, he pressed the button to some floor halfway up the building, and the elevator ascended smoothly, the street and surrounding buildings retreating steadily beneath them through the glass panes which made up the elevator's walls.
“There's a nice restaurant on the 20th , and a cocktail bar lounge thing on the 30th. It just opened; I haven't had time to check it out. We could take the tour, if you w–”
“I... what did you say your name was, again?”
“Ah, yes, sorry about that. I used the details of my personal assistant's husband on the website: profile picture... name. Couldn't really use my real ones, unfortunately, for reasons of security... and simple practicality, really.”
He looked her in the eyes, and she managed to meet his cool gaze for a few seconds.
“My name is Will Locklear.”
Dimly, a series of images and phrases flashed through her mind – half-remembered tabloid front pages, gossip she'd overheard at dentists' waiting rooms or on the radio. Will Locklear. Head of Ferrus Industries. Linked one day with this tennis star, the next with such-and-such diva ballerina...
In a bid to avoid looking at him, she scanned over to the elevator buttons, noticing that the highest floor had the colors inverted: silver on black, rather than the other way around.
Without really thinking, she pointed at it.
“What's this top one for?”
“Why don't you press it and find out?”
She saw his reflection in the glass. He seemed amused.
She pressed it.
The elevator continued its stately path upwards.
\///
///\
When it finally came to a stop, they were so high that a faint wisp of cloud passed by them on the other side of the glass. With a gentle “ting”, the doors slid open to each side.
Through them, there was only a short corridor: black marble walls, floor, and ceiling, with little circular halogen lights cut into it. At the other end, there were a pair of sliding black metal doors, identical to the elevator which faced it. On the wall beside them was a large touch panel, shining faintly green at the sides.
The infamous billionaire walked up to it, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm, keying in a complex code before presenting his fingertips for a scan.
“Identity confirmed. Welcome, Master Locklear” rang out a subtly computerized voice.
The next second, the doors in front of them slid opened out onto a gloriously wide, airy office. There was a huge desk with a black wood-and-fabric chair behind it, and various computer terminals set on pedestals in a room with no walls except sheer-looking glass.
Shell-shocked, Kim walked forward in small steps until she laid a hand against those glass walls. Beyond, the city stretched onward out into the sea on one side, and distant, forest-dotted hills on the other side. She could see people milling about on the rooftops of the skyscrapers around them, a few stories down – for there were no buildings in the metropolis taller than Ferrus Industries HQ.
She spun around to find Will standing in the center of the room, arms crossed, head cocked slightly to one side.
“Mr. Will Locklear.”
“Will.”
“...Will. Tell me one thing.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me? Why this? You could get any girl in the world – why a dating website, why a... a... slightly overweight office worker who doesn't know the first thing about international business, or about anything, really? Is this just a cruel joke you play – pick up desperate girls, make them think you'll marry them for a few seconds, then never call them again? Cus if so, it's a pretty clever–”
“I'm not playing around, Kim. I'm serious about this – about you.” He let out a weary sound – half-laugh, half-sigh. “I've had just about enough of feeling lonely when I wasn't alone, with hook-ups and half-assed relationships that leave a bitter taste in your mouth with every kiss. I've got to start thinking about other things. Marriage. Kids. I–”
“OK. Alright.”
“What...? What's alright?”
She held her hands up.
“I'm not going to put up any more doubts or second guesses. I'm ready to go along with whatever it is you're going to throw my way next.”
“That's it? You believe I'm serious already, just with that?”
“Oh, sorry, I should've been more clear. I still have no idea whether you're serious or not – whether you're really thinking of marrying me or just pulling an elaborate prank. I'm just saying that I'm going to stop trying to guess which one it is.”
She bit her lip, and scratched at an elbow.
“I guess what I'm saying is... you've done enough. I... I l-like you enough that, well, if I'm honest, I'm not going to be able to say no to you, whatever you do. So, if you're really going to follow through – fantastic. If not... oh well, I guess I'm just going to end up crying about it later. But that's a risk I'm willing to take. That's the risk I'm going to take, no matter what it is you end up doing...”
She trailed off, and when a few seconds' silence had stretched out, looked up shyly from the spot near his feet she had been fixating on the whole time.
Will's mouth was slightly ajar, and his heavy-lidded eyes were stretched open as wide as she or anyone had ever seen them – which is to say, barely at all.
“...wow. I knew I hadn't made a mistake with you.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “A girl like you... you're worth my weight in gold. Which, when I think about it, is barely enough to buy that café we met at, but hey, it's just a figure of speech.”
She had to look away as soon as he'd started saying nice things about her, staring at one of the terminals dotted around the room. She couldn't think of anything to say, h
aving exhausted her resources of candidness and brutal honesty for the day, so he continued.
“Though... when you say you're happy to follow along with anything I end up doing...”
“Oh, um... within reason, I meant...”
“Hehe... naturally, naturally. Well then. I've been perusing your blog in my spare hours these past few days – oh come on, you're going to blush at that, after everything else? – and I'm sure you've overheard all kinds of assorted tidbits about my life over the years. If not, you can search for them online later. All in all, I'd say we've actually seen a lot of each other's inner workings and slightly dirty secrets, considering. That is... except for one thing.”
Torn: Between Two Brothers (Taboo MMF Menage Erotic Romance) Page 4