Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
LARA
O kay, I’m a lifelong feminist. I started at six years old when I boxed Jason Appleby in the ear when he told me girls can’t be astronauts, so the man sitting in front of me should be enemy number one, but to my horror, he’s not. I’m not the least bit turned off by his declaration that he’s bought me at all. In fact, his caveman attitude and the thought of being his sex toy tempts me and fills me with a strange and crazy excitement.
It feels more like a challenge. He wants me to give him his money’s worth. Sure. I’ll show him how hot and heavy I can get. This is the most illicit relationship of my life, so why not? Why the hell not?
“All right. Let’s go to bed then,” I say and begin walking towards the entrance, but there is no movement behind me. He isn’t following me. When I turn back, even the mocking smile has vanished from his face. He is dead serious about doing it here. I literally have to give him his money’s worth.
"I’m a real estate agent, not a hooker," I tell him.
His response comes as quickly and brutally as a slap. "And I’m a businessman, not a bank. But you’ve managed to make me one to fit your needs, so I suggest you adjust to mine now or call it quits."
I look at the contract and shake my head. "I can just leave," I say. "You said it yourself—you’re not holding me hostage here. Doing that would be kidnapping."
He crosses his arms, his face smug. "Go ahead. I’m not stopping you."
Smug bastard. I know he’s pushing me, daring me. I glance back at the door. "Muriel might come in at any moment," I say, searching for an excuse.
"I don’t hire stupid people," he replies callously.
That’s that excuse gone. I bite my bottom lip. My heart races as I’m still torn between the instinct to retreat and the inexplicable pull of his magnetic eyes. His gaze is fixed on mine, unwavering and full of that same intensity that always makes me feel exposed like he can see right through me. Every breath feels heavy, every second longer than the last as the air between us grows thick with tension. He’s watching, waiting for my next move.
I walk towards him, all the while holding his gaze. Lowering myself to my knees, I place my hands on his thighs. His eyebrows raise slightly as I silently begin to unbuckle his belt.
My hands tremble slightly, and to hide this, I try to move faster. I have my hand on his zipper, ready to pull it down. I glance up at his face then. His face is deliberately expressionless, and I cannot tell what he is thinking.
I realize I want to surprise him.
For once, I want to see him not be in complete control of everything—of his emotions, of his mood, of his desire. I want to see him under my control, even if it’s just for a moment. The zipper comes down easily, revealing dark briefs and the hard bulge beneath them. I pause, feeling the tension between us.
"Can you help?" I ask, my voice low.
It takes him a moment to react, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Intimidated?”
“A bit,” I confess. “We are strangers, after all.”
He holds my gaze for a moment before reaching into his briefs and pulling his cock out. "We’re strangers?" he repeats, his voice low. "We’re not strangers after last night. I know what you taste like—every aspect of you. Your skin, your tongue, your pussy."
I cannot stop the hot heat rushing up my neck and into my cheeks. Trying to hide it I bend my head and my attention is immediately caught by his cock. I knew it was huge; after all, I felt every bit of it the previous night. But seeing it now, in broad daylight, is an entirely different experience.
He is massive, with a lush pink head and thick veins snaking around the shaft. He’s so hard it looks almost painful, and it makes me realize just how much he wants me, just how intense his desire is for me. I’ve never had such a big dick in my mouth before and I don’t know if he is going to fit inside my mouth.
“Are you going to get to work, or was all this a waste like my entire morning has been?”
Smug asshole! I’m tempted deeply to get up and kick him, but as I look down once again at the gorgeous cock and the need to take him is greater than the need to kick him. I want to taste him so bad I can’t think straight. My mouth waters as I think about what I’m about to do.
My lips hover inches from him. I can feel the heat of his skin. His cock, still hard but pulsing with a vulnerability I’ve never seen from him before, catches my gaze.
With my hand resting on his thigh I brace myself and his body tenses. From the corner of my eyes, I catch the way his jaw clenches as I wrap my fingers around the hard shaft. He’s solid and thick, and I can feel every throb in those greenish veins against my palm. The anticipation is building inside me as I lean closer, letting my breath brush against him.
I start slow, my lips barely touching the head of his cock.
His breath hitches. Just for a second, but I know I’ve already got him. His I’m the big I am, macho talk was just that. Talk. He will be jelly in my hands. A thrill runs through me, a sense of power that I haven’t felt in a long time. I stretch my lips, taking him in, feeling the velvet heat glide across my tongue. His taste, salty and musky, floods my senses, and I close my eyes as I sink further down, letting him fill my mouth.
He groans a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through my body. His hand slides into my hair, not pulling, just resting on my scalp as if to ground himself.
“That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough.
I can’t tell if he’s praising or commanding me. The tension in his body is palpable, and it’s intoxicating to know that I’m the one making him feel this way. I swirl my tongue, slow at first, testing his reaction, and when he moans again, low and deep, I feel a surge of satisfaction.
I pull back, letting my tongue trace the ridge of his head, savoring every moment. His fingers tighten in my hair, and I glance up to meet his eyes, finding them dark with hunger. I pause, my lips still touching him, and his gaze locks with mine. That look makes my stomach flip.
“You’re good at this,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I hate to think why that is.”
I smile inwardly and let my hand stroke him slowly, teasingly as I take him deeper, my mouth hot and wet around him. His head falls back, and he lets out a long groan.
I quicken my pace, hollowing my cheeks as I move up and down, feeling him slide between my lips. His body is taut with tension, and I know he’s holding back, trying not to let go too soon. I take him further and further into my throat. He swears under his breath, and I feel victorious, like I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
But there’s something else there too—something softer. I slow down, savoring the feeling of him in my mouth and his fingers relax slightly in my hair. I let my eyes drift closed as my tongue swirls like a snake around him.
I pull back just enough to breathe and find him staring at me, his gaze awed. His thumb strokes my cheek, and for a moment, it feels tender, almost affectionate.
“You’re a walking disaster when it comes to selling a house, but that’s one hell of a blowjob technique you’ve got going there,” he says, his voice low and ragged.
I don’t answer. Instead, I slide back down on his cock, while pressing my tongue flat against him and moving a much faster rhythm. I can feel him getting close to going over the edge, simply by the way his grip in my hair tightens and his hips start to move. He’s fucking my mouth.
Instantly, I go faster, my hand moving in time with my mouth, and he lets out a sound that’s half a growl, half a plea. I can feel him throbbing, so close.
“Don’t stop,” he mutters, his voice rough and needy.
I increase my speed until he’s there, his body going rigid, his breath catching in his throat. I feel the pulse of him against my tongue, the way he grips my hair like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored. He calls my name, his voice breaking.
I swallow, taking his cream, feeling the heat of him slide down my throat.
When it’s over, I pull back slowly, my lips lingering on his skin. Like a cat I lick his shaft with small delicate licks. All the while we just stare at each other, breathing heavily, the air between us electric and charged with something I can’t quite name.
“Not bad for a stranger, huh?” I tease, but my voice is hoarse and unsteady.
“Yeah,” he says, but his voice is oddly different and there is a strange look in his eyes. “Not bad at all.”
It would have been a great end to my performance if I could have stood up and walked out of there with my head held high, and I would have loved to be able to do that, but when I stand my knees feel week. I collapse on the sofa next to him.
I don’t know what just happened between us, but giving him that blowjob affected me in a way I did not expect. It makes me want him even more. I loved doing it more than I ever did sucking another man, and I am now convinced I’m in a lot of trouble.
I stare at him speechlessly. “I should go,” I whisper, and start to stand, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back down. I don’t fight back.
His eyes are half-lidded and mysterious. It leaves me feeling off balance like I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t quite name. The sunlight filters through the leaves, illuminating the planes of his face, casting shadows that make him look even more dangerous and… alluring.
"You’re not done," he says, and there’s a promise in his voice, something raw and deep that makes my body respond immediately. A shiver runs down my spine, and I can feel the heat gathering between my thighs, my skin tingling with anticipation. I know what he means, and the thought sends a rush of adrenaline through me.
Of course, I’m not done.
My panties are soaking wet and my clit feels so swollen and hot. I want his mouth on me again… and again. My eyes meet his, and I’m sure he can see it—how badly I want him, how much I need this. “I… uh…” My voice falters, and I hate how vulnerable I sound. His fingers curl into the waistband of my trousers. Before I can react, he tugs them down, the fabric sliding down my skin and pooling at my feet. He kicks them away and catches me and pulls me onto his lap.
When I am astride him, he draws my feet up to either side of his thighs, then slowly lowers my body backwards until my head is resting on the cold stones between his feet. I can smell the polish from his shoes. He seizes my knees firmly and slides me further along on the stones, then when I am in the position he desires, he parts my knees wide open. I have never been in this position before. A spray of tiny cream flowers dip from the canopy of green overhead and I watch it in a haze of anticipation and excitement.
He drops his head forward and eats at me through the lace. I grip his knees and gasp with the shock of sensations that course through me. Licking, sucking and even biting. Then he tears the lace with his teeth and eats hungrily. Far more ravenously than he did last night. As if he is starving. Like a wild animal. A wolf no less. Making slurping, growling noises as he feasts voraciously on me.
The heat from his mouth feels like fire, and I can’t stop the way my hips instinctively roll against his feral mouth, searching for more of that delicious friction. His hands are everywhere—gripping my hips, running down my sides.
The sensations are almost too much. His tongue works against me with a skill that makes me cry out, the sound loud and uninhibited. No more thoughts of Muriel. In fact, every coherent thought has slipped away as I grind mindlessly against his mouth. I start to see the sunlight filtering in through the leaves as shining spots of light, like twinkling stars, the spray of little flowers seems to glow, and I know I’m losing myself. There is no going back.
He pulls away, his lips glistening, and hoists me up into a sitting position on his lap. What? I almost start begging him to finish the job. My body aches with need.
“Take me inside you,” he commands in a voice that sends shivers through me.
With my hands on his shoulders, I lift myself, align my hips, and impale myself on his erect cock. I cry out at the jolt of sensual pleasure as he stretches me to the full. I take him in, inch by delicious inch. When I think I can’t take anymore, he grips my hips possessively and pushes me down so his cock thrusts deeper and deeper into me. His eyes lock onto mine with a look full of pure lust. When I’m finally fully seated, he allows a pause, the perfect moment suspended in a shared breath as if the entire universe has stopped just for us.
His hands slide up my body.
I can feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric. It’s almost reverent the way he looks at me like he’s savoring every second, every inch of my skin that he’s about to uncover. His eyes lock onto mine, and the intensity in them sends a shiver down my spine, making me ache for more.
Slowly, he tugs the straps of my camisole down, letting the fabric slide over my shoulders. His fingers graze my skin, leaving a trail of heat that has me trembling, my breath catching in my throat. When the camisole slips down further, exposing my breasts, his pupils grow and his gaze becomes dark and heavy with desire. It feels like he’s memorizing every detail, every curve.
He leans in, his mouth finding my skin and presses soft kisses along the line of my collarbone, and then lower, until his lips brush over my hard nipples. The sensation is electric, and I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair as he circles my nipple with his tongue, teasing and tasting. It’s a slow, torturous rhythm, one that makes my body arch toward him, silently begging for more.
His hand moves up to cup my other breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and the combination of his mouth and hand is almost too much. He sucks gently, then harder, his tongue flicking in a way that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me. My head falls back, and I let out a high-pitched call, unable to hold back the sounds of my own need.
His hands roam over my body, sliding down my sides, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist, before they move back up to my breasts, squeezing and caressing. The warmth of his touch, the way his hands feel against my bare skin, is indescribably sweet. He’s taking his time, savoring every inch of me, and it makes me feel more desired than I’ve ever been before.
His mouth moves from one breast to the other, sucking and teasing, and I can feel the heat pooling between my thighs, my body responding to every touch, every kiss. His hands hold me steady as I tremble beneath his touch. I arch into him, my fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every bit of him against me. This is heaven.
When he finally pulls back, his breath warm against my skin, I’m left feeling raw and hungry for more. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a possessiveness in his gaze that makes my heart beat like a trapped bird. It’s like he’s telling me without words that he’s not done, that there’s so much more he wants to explore, to feel, and I find myself aching to give him everything.
“Ride me,” he groans, his voice husky and strained, and I know he’s just as lost in this as I am. I start bouncing on his hard cock. It’s fast, frantic—each movement bringing me closer to the edge. I can feel every inch of him inside me, hitting all the right spots. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I throw my head back, lost in the feeling.
His hands move to my ass, squeezing and guiding me as I ride him harder. His mouth finds my breast, and the sensation of his lips, his tongue swirling over my skin, is enough to start the first waves. I’m losing myself, the pleasure building higher and higher until it’s almost unbearable. I can’t think; I can only feel—the heat of his body, the way he fills me so perfectly, the wet slapping sound of our bodies coming together.
“Faster,” he urges, and I obey, my movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as I chase the release that’s so close I can taste it. His touch becomes rough and fierce, but so, so good, and when he thrusts up hard, I come undone. My body shudders and breaks into millions of pieces as my cries echo through the conservatory.
Those cries… they are his name!
The explosive climax goes on and on and it is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I know then that he has ruined me for all other men.
He follows right after, his grip tightening as he spills inside me, his head falling back against the chair, a deep, guttural groan ripping out of him. I feel the heat of him filling me, and the sensation only prolongs my pleasure, drawing out every last bit of my climax until I’m shaking, my body spent.
For a long while, neither of us move. We’re both breathing heavily, our bodies still tangled together, the aftershocks leaving me feeling raw and exposed. I can’t look into his eyes. I collapse against him, resting my head on his shoulder as I catch my breath. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and for a moment, it’s not just about the sex—it’s something deeper, something that scares me as much as it thrills me.
We stay like that, our bodies pressed together. Neither of us speaks. We would only spoil it with our snipping and bickering. I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the way his fingers trace patterns on my back. I close my eyes and pretend we are not what we are. We are real lovers. For once, I don’t want to think about what comes next.
I just want to savor this perfectly beautiful thing that happened in a magical forest in the middle of New York City.