12. Brendan
CHAPTER 12
Brendan
I ’m in a fancy club, my nose and mouth and fingers buried in the delicious—and soaking wet—cunt of a hot blonde who’s laid out naked on the sofa of a private room for my pleasure.
So far, so on brand for a Thursday night.
But that’s where this being any kind of normal Thursday night ends.
Because this isn’t a hookup.
It’s an audition. A two-way audition.
And Marlowe is not your average hot blonde bombshell who stakes out and seduces men like me so efficiently that she may as well be a professional.
Nope.
The hilarious irony is that this woman, who I’m test-driving ahead of hiring as a professional , is reacting to me in a way that’s more raw and more gratifying than any other hot blonde I’ve fucked in a very long time.
Don’t feel too sorry for me.
I look like this and I’m very, very good in bed.
The orgasms I coax out of the others are one hundred per cent real.
But those women play the same game as me.
They zero in on me for my looks or my money or my reputed prowess in the sack—usually all three.
They’re practised and cynical, and the whole endless fucking cycle of them is tired, tired, tired.
Whereas I’d bet a lot of money that no one is more surprised than Goldilocks here at the reaction her body is having to mine.
She’s barely laid on any moves since she got here.
No trite phrases, no trotting out of pretty, fake little moans or coquettish cries.
Nope, she’s seemed unconvinced at best and shit-scared at worst.
I’ve never been an academic, but I can read people, and it’s clear as day to me that Marlowe is not here because she loves dick.
For whatever reason, she wants or needs that paycheque, and who am I to judge?
She’s been polite and sweet and twitchy, and she’s unwittingly provided exactly what I’m looking for so far this evening.
But there is nothing, and I mean nothing , more gratifying than having a front-row seat to a beautiful woman unravelling at your hands.
Watching Marlowe go from cautious to semi-engaged to unwittingly grinding her honeyed cunt against my face is a bigger and better win than anything I can recall in recent memory—and that includes thrashing my smug mate Ethan at golf last weekend.
I’m so into this it’s not funny.
The scent of her, the taste of her, are driving me wild, so much so that I’ve flattened myself onto my stomach so I can hump the sofa.
But when she begs me, in that panicked, breathy little voice, not to stop, I mentally punch the air so hard that I mentally dislocate my shoulder.
Fucking yesssss .
I knew it.
Marlowe, Marlowe, Marlowe.
You were already perfect— and then you went and begged.
‘I won’t stop, baby.
I said I wouldn’t,’ I rasp, looking up so I can enjoy the titillating sight of her red-flushed face and chest, her greedy little tits heaving, her stomach tensing under my hand.
I am going to bring this home, and she’s going to fucking explode, and I’m going to enjoy every single second.
I use my shoulders to winch her legs even further apart.
God, I love having her on her back for me.
Mine to pleasure and play with.
Once she’s working for me, I’ll take great pleasure in tying her up and edging her for so long that it will bring new meaning to the phrase extended lunch hour , but now is about the pitch.
Now is about demonstrating with aplomb the white-hot pleasure she’ll know when she becomes my fuck toy.
And so I go for maximum sensation.
I’d stick a finger up that snug little arsehole so quickly if she hadn’t specified no anal, but we’ll get there when I’ve spent longer earning her trust. Instead, I lick her as roughly as I can while I fuck her deeply, rhythmically, with my fingers.
I’d add a third, but she is seriously fucking tight.
I’m not sure how I’ll survive burying my dick inside this lovely little cunt.
I can’t resist a low groan at the thought of it.
Her noises increase in volume.
She sounds like she’s totally out of control and hanging on for dear life, and so help me God, I love it.
This is what I’ve hoped for: that the sweet, elegant, polite woman I was so struck by would and could transform for me into this writhing, thrashing creature as she submits to the delights of the Sullivan Pitch.
She’s shaking. Shuddering.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she chants over and over.
I’m going to answer every fucking prayer you’ve ever had, sweetheart.
I give her my all, laving at her impossibly swollen clit, and then she’s splintering in front of me, sobbing out her orgasm in a broken voice as her climax rips through her beautiful body.
I lick her and lick her, humming my approval, until she comes down and gives a little twitch that tells me it’s probably getting too sensitive down there.
So I withdraw and instead practically launch myself at her, plastering myself to her front with my cock shamelessly jerking against her stomach and leaking its moisture over us as I kiss her through the aftermath.
I don’t just want to see her orgasm; I want to feel it.
I want to savour the chasm that lies between having kissed her earlier, before I’d warmed her up properly, and kissing her now, when she’s all wanton and sated and soft, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue and revelling in the feel of her silky legs as they squeeze the sides of my thighs.
When I release her mouth so I can look at her, her beautiful brown eyes are almost all pupil, and her face is still flushed, and she looks nothing short of shell-shocked.
I’m not sure if it’s the ferocity of her orgasm that’s taken her by surprise or the fact that she experienced it here with me, but I’ll take either option.
‘You okay?’ I ask with all the smugness of a man who knows it’s absolutely a rhetorical question.
‘Yeah.’ Her breathing is still ragged, her eyes darting over my face.
‘Yeah—I’m—that was?—’
Inability to string a sentence together is an excellent barometer for orgasm quality in my book.
‘Part two coming right up,’ I say, leaning over to grab my trousers off the floor.
I need to locate a condom and wedge my way inside this snug little cunt immediately.
It would be so easy to flip her over, slide an arm under her stomach and drag her up to her knees, but honestly, I’m not sure she’ll handle it the first time.
She’s seriously fucking tight.
From my perspective, there’s no such thing as too tight, but I also don’t want to cause the poor girl any injuries.
For once, I’ll restrain myself and fuck her on her back.
Warming her up once she starts working for me will be an absolute joy.
And yeah, I’m feeling pretty good about her saying yes to this job right now.
Part one of my pitch was killer.
‘When you work for me, you’ll put these on me,’ I tell her as I kneel up between her legs.
Her chest is still heaving, her gaze squarely on my dick.
I rip the foil with my teeth and proceed to roll the latex over my very fucking sensitive shaft.
I didn’t bring lube, which in hindsight was an error, but she’s pretty soaked, so I hope she can take it.
I suck in a breath through my teeth as I put on the condom.
Marlowe is eyeing my dick with what looks like extreme trepidation.
‘It’s okay,’ I tell her.
‘I’ll go slow.’
If I’m capable of holding back.
I don’t know why the fantasy of fucking an inexperienced woman does it for me so consistently.
It’s not like I cross paths with many of them, to be honest. And it makes me feel like a bit of a dick.
I know how patriarchal, how revoltingly passé, it is to judge women on different standards from those we men use on ourselves, but I’m not judging.
I’m just expressing a preference.
And that preference is having a lithe little stunner like Marlowe laid out below me, staring at me like I’m a conquering Viking and she’s the spoils of my raid.
Like she already knows she’ll never be the same again after I’ve filled her up with my monster dick.
She has no fucking clue what a turn-on it is for me—but she’s about to find out.
Arranging myself on top of her brings even more clearly home the contrast between my brutish build and her fragility.
Going with missionary feels sexist and reductionist and lazily entitled, and all of that has my heart racing.
I brace myself on one elbow and take a visual sweep down her body before locating my cock with my hand and positioning it at her entrance.
Beneath me, her beautiful brown eyes widen and she stiffens, her sated laxness ebbing away before me.
‘Can you come like this?’
Her expression brightens for a moment into something approaching that put-on peppiness I hate in the women who try to ensnare me, before lapsing into uncertainty.
‘Not usually,’ she says, screwing up her face like she knows it’s not the done thing to admit it.
‘But that was a truly excellent orgasm just now.’
It’s as if she’s forcing her own embarrassment to take a back seat so she can pat me on the back, placate me like I’m a tyrant of a toddler who may throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get his way.
But that’s okay.
I smirk as I reach behind her for a scatter cushion and wedge it under her arse to improve her position.
‘People have underestimated me my entire life, love. Luckily for you, my absolute favourite thing is proving them wrong.’
‘Oh God, no, it’s not you,’ she babbles.
‘It’s me, I just—clearly you’re very good at what you?—’
She breaks off with a strangled sound as I notch my crown into her plush little pussy.
‘I’m very good at what I do,’ I pant out.
My dick is on fire and my head is reeling.
‘Just try to relax, love, so I can get in there and show you.’
I’m not a huge fan of kissing while fucking.
I enjoy both acts immensely, but together they feel…
unwise. I need her to loosen up, though, so I dip my mouth to hers and give her a leisurely, dirty fucking with my tongue.
I wish I’d tied her up, but it’s still indecently hot to have her splayed out below me as I kiss her and roll my hips over and over, edging into a glove so tight it will be a miracle if I don’t disgrace myself after all my big talk.
Inch by inch, I work my way in, her internal muscles squeezing me all the way.
I’m sweating like a pig with the effort of holding off on throwing her wellbeing to the wind and ramming the fuck home.
But then I’m in, and I practically weep at the relief of it.
My slutty kiss swallows up Marlowe’s surprised little noise as I bottom out in her.
We are fucking on .
My dilemma is this.
I want to talk dirty to her—I have a feeling it’ll speed up whatever orgasm she is intent on not having.
But I’m fully aware it’ll speed mine up too if I let rip the stream of filth I want to pour into her ear.
Unfortunately for me, withstanding impulses is not my strong point, especially not at this time of day and especially not when I’m buried balls deep inside the vice-like cunt of a delightfully skittish woman hell-bent on refusing to entertain the likelihood of me and my big dick coaxing another orgasm out of her.
Never mind coaxing .
I’m going to ram it out of her, and I’ll enjoy every moment of those huge eyes going from dubious to glazed to molten.
‘Next time we do this, I’ll be bending you over my desk,’ I rasp in her ear.
Fuck, that’s a white-hot visual.
I drag my dick out of her body and push back in slowly, both to torment us and because I’m not sure she’s fully acclimatised to my size yet.
When I bottom out, I roll my hips, loving the feeling of being so tightly held.
‘You’ll be in the middle of something, and I’ll call you into my office when I’m on a really boring call and make you hike up your skirt.
I’ll play with you for a bit to get you wet, but you’ll have to stay perfectly still like a very good girl.
’
She makes a noise in the back of her throat, and I turn my head to see her.
‘Do you like the sound of that?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ It’s little more than a whisper.
I increase my pace, and she curses under her breath.
‘What do you like about it, baby?’
She closes her eyes and turns her head away from me.
‘Marlowe. This is what I want, remember? I want to know what gets you off. You told me you don’t know but I think you do.
’
She’s silent for a moment.
Unfortunately for her, I have no compunction about weaponising my dick, so I pull out and slam in, harder than I have so far.
Jeeeeeeesus, that’s good.
The impact has her eyes flying open.
‘Well? What do you like about that scenario?’ For good measure, I dip my head to pull a pretty pink nipple into my mouth and suck hard.
It has the advantage of removing what she might deem excessive eye contact, too.
‘Oh, God,’ she stutters.
‘I’m waiting,’ I say with my mouth full.
‘Um. I want you to give me orders like that.’
I hum my approval, because this little nipple is too good to neglect.
It’s so hard as I roll it around with my tongue.
‘Go on,’ I mumble.
‘I like the idea of being at your beck and call.’ Her entire body arches under me, into me, as she says it, and I know she’s being honest.
She’s beautiful, she begs, and she’s naturally submissive.
Fuck me, I think I’m getting even harder.
I pull off her nipple and rear up so I can brace myself on both elbows and really give it to her.
‘Damn right you’ll be at my beck and call.
’ Fuck. ‘You’ll be mine every single fucking way I can have you.
You have no clue how hard I’ll work you.
On your knees, on your back, any fucking way I want, when I want.
’ I piston my hips into her over and over.
Attempting to withhold my own finish is a special kind of hell, but as I grit out the words, as I fuck her over and over, I’m rewarded with a special kind of heaven, too: the sight of Marlowe unravelling in real time beneath me.
Her face is growing more anguished as she chases the climax she swore she couldn’t have, her thrashes more violent and useless and desperate.
I doubt she’s aware of it, but she’s clinging to my shoulder with one hand as she digs the fingernails of the other into my arse.
She’s a cowgirl employing her own brand of spurs, and I’m her lucky, lucky ride.
It’s not her fault. She may not usually come this way, but she’s never been fucked by Brendan Sullivan before, and she probably hasn’t been subject to my brand of dirty talk—or dirty promises, rather.
It’s a devastating combination if I say so myself, and she’s not the only one getting carried away here.
The fantasies I have of railing my newest toy against every flat surface in my office are a shot of Viagra to my performance, turbocharging my dick to the point that I have no fucking clue how I’m this hard and how the hell I haven’t shot my load yet.
We’re both slick with sweat now, or maybe we’re both slick with my sweat.
Our breaths are ragged, heat is coursing through my body, and her cries match my grunts with every fevered thrust. I’m an animal in this moment, rutting and rutting with no finesse and no endgame except for chasing my release and Marlowe’s.
Her face registers total surprise before she lets out a series of anguished cries as she goes hurtling over the edge.
Her entire body is wracked with convulsions as I fuck her through her orgasm, and it’s a fucking spectacular sight.
Thank God.
I did it.
Now I can let go with my fragile male ego intact.
‘Fucking yes,’ I tell her as I stiffen impossibly more inside her, and then I thrust and thrust and thrust, burying my face in her neck and roaring into her hair as my orgasm winds me up and spins me out like a spinning top.
I’m powerless and weightless, hurtling through the air in ecstasy as I ride it out deep inside her body before collapsing my weight on top of her.
My brain is wiped clean.
No noise.
No friction.
Just blessed stillness.
I’m vaguely aware of her releasing my hair from her death grip and sliding her hand down my back.
Mmm. Feels nice.
It’s not until she flinches beneath me that I realise I’m practically spatchcocking the poor woman with my body weight.
With enormous difficulty, I find the strength to rear up onto my elbows, but the sight I get is worth it.
Now that’s what I call a woman who’s just discovered the life-changing power of a really great fuck.
I smile down at her, amused and smug and blissed-out, and tuck a strand of pale gold hair behind her ear.
‘We’ll probably need to work on our noise levels in the office. ’