33. Brendan
CHAPTER 33
Brendan
S he sighs softly as I gather her up in my arms. So often, I act on impulse.
I’m all about the destination and, in Marlowe’s case, the orgasm.
See her. Fuck her. Make her come.
Let myself come. Boom.
And repeat.
She’s a means to an end.
A beautiful vessel that pours forth an endless stream of sexual gratification.
This morning, I’m going to bloody well enjoy her.
And I do.
I smooth her hair off her face with one hand and take a moment to absorb her before I dive back in.
Her eyes are molten chocolate, her eyelashes fluttering, lips so soft and pink and lush.
I can’t not kiss her.
I tilt my head and I close my mouth over hers again, testing the seam of her lips lightly with my tongue.
They part for me, and I’m flooded with her : her scent, her taste, sensory delights I’ve already grown to crave.
There’s always an element of time pressure in the office.
Much as I like living on the edge, I don’t actually want anyone to barge in on us.
Here, though, there’s a stillness, even as the sounds her voice made hang in the air like beautiful ghosts.
I have a sense of presence that even my meds can’t always deliver.
We’re properly making out now, and it’s seriously fucking cool.
I twist my body as much as humanly possible as I cup her jaw and stroke her skin and thread my fingers through her hair and entangle my tongue with hers.
The more I give myself over to this kiss, the more it gives me.
The more she gives me.
She pushes the short sleeve of my t-shirt up further and wraps her hand around my bicep.
Her lips move against mine, her tits press against my pecs, our athletic gear far less of a barrier than our workwear usually is.
Her other hand finds my hair and tugs at it.
And a thought comes to me unbidden.
Does she really like this?
Or is she acting? After all, Marlowe is pretty implacable as far as women go.
She’s also the consummate professional.
I have no doubt that all the orgasms I’ve doled out have been real—no one is that good a performer—but it doesn’t mean she’s into me.
I may not want anything serious here—after all, this pay-for-play relationship suits me down to the ground—but I really, really want to believe that she’s kissing me on a Friday morning on the stool of my grand piano because she’s digging it, not because I’m paying her to.
Only one way to find out.
I need us both bare and on a bed.
Usually, the client-hooker dynamic really gets me going, but today I just want to take this beautiful blonde upstairs and show her how good it can be when she’s with me.
‘Can I take you to bed?’ I mutter against her lips.
She gives a little hum of approval.
‘Mmm. Yes please.’
I stand up and hold out my hand.
When she looks up at me and takes it, it feels as though the girl I like has agreed to go on a date with me.
‘Brendan Sullivan’s bedroom,’ she murmurs as I lead her upstairs by the hand.
‘I’m almost scared. Do women come here on pilgrimages and scatter flowers at your bedroom door?
’
Cheeky little minx.
‘Mostly they just bring empty bottles so they can collect holy water from my bathroom taps,’ I bat back.
‘Kind of like Lourdes?’
‘Exactly like Lourdes. The healing power of a few hours with me and my dick is miraculous.’
She doesn’t miss a beat.
‘Explains a lot. I wondered how that weird rash of mine had vanished so quickly.’
‘Oh ye of little faith. You’ll see, baby.
’ I wink at her.
‘As long as you change the sheets between all your “miracles”.’
‘Joke’s on you.
’ I usher her through the open double doors of my master suite.
My housekeeper, Val, made my bed first thing this morning before I gave her the rest of the day off.
I don’t need anyone cramping my and Marlowe’s style.
‘You’re the first woman who’s ever been in here.
’
She stops stock-still on the threshold.
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Nope. As you well know, I don’t require a bed to have a good time.
’ I let go of her hand and stick my hands in my pockets.
‘Plus, getting rid of them is way harder than getting them in here. So I just don’t do it.
’
‘Aren’t you a charmer?
’ she asks, but she sounds distracted.
She looks around my room, taking in the dark grey linen-covered walls, the vast white bed and the views out to the private terrace and the river beyond.
My room is a knockout.
Serene. Luxurious. Simple.
It has to be. My exhausting, exhausted brain needs a safe space to crash each evening, and this place is my sanctuary.
‘This is absolutely amazing,’ she says.
‘Thanks. And I don’t care if it sounds rude.
It’s the truth. I have enough headaches without dealing with needy women who refuse to leave.
You don’t count,’ I say hastily.
She laughs. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.
’
‘It’s a compliment.
We have a very productive, well-defined working relationship.
And you always shoot out the door at six like a scalded cat.
I don’t flatter myself that my bed is good enough to keep you hanging around like a bad smell.
’
‘Such a charmer.’ Her smile is coquettish, and I think once again how bloody gorgeous she is.
‘It’s increasingly obvious why you have to pay for sex.
’
I frown in a faux-menacing manner.
‘I’ll wipe that smile off your face with my dick.
Now take those fucking clothes off and get on that bed.
’
W hy having Marlowe naked and spread out on my bed for me is quite so different from having her stripped and on all fours in my office, I’m unclear.
But I’m staring at her like I’ve never seen her clearly before.
Every inch of her is stunning, sure.
But this morning there are parts of her that warrant special attention, parts I’ve been guilty of neglecting thus far.
The impossibly thin, silky skin along her collarbone.
The freckle below her left breast.
The dip between her hip bone and her navel when she’s lying on her back.
I lie next to her, propped up on one elbow and as naked as she is, and I play.
I explore. I trace the contours of her body with my fingers just as I marvel at the softness of her skin.
I flip my hand and brush my knuckles over one breast, grazing her nipple softly, and she shudders.
‘Do you like me touching you?’ I ask quietly, and she turns her head to stare at me.
‘Of course I do. Can’t you tell?
’
I hesitate. ‘Mostly I can. But, at the end of the day, I’m paying you to say that, aren’t I?
’
‘Yeah, but—Jesus, Brendan. I’m not that good an actress.
I mean, surely you can see the kind of effect you have on me?
I love you touching me.
’
‘Let’s see, shall we?
’ I ask, and I dip my mouth to her nipple, sucking on it lightly.
The skin puckers into a sweet little rosebud between my lips, and she arches against me.
‘Come here.’ I release her nipple and slide an arm under her head, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her against my body.
‘That’s better.’
It is.
She’s flush against me, her head cradled in the crook of my arm, her face so close to mine.
Don’t get me wrong; I love flipping her over and fucking her from behind.
I go crazy when she obeys my commands to crawl away from me only for me to dive on her.
But this is cool, too, even if it’s uncharted territory for me to cuddle a woman while I bring her to orgasm.
She tilts her face up towards mine, a silent plea for my mouth.
I bend my head to meet her, parting her lips with my tongue as I hold her close against me, my hard-on flexing against her hip.
‘Open your legs for me, love,’ I whisper against her mouth before diving back into the kiss and using my free hand to stroke her breasts.
At this angle they’re almost flat, the taut nubs of her nipples the best kind of fidget toys.
I play with them for a few moments as our tongues entangle and she makes soft noises of appreciation into my mouth.
Then I let my hand trail down between her breasts, over the velvety-soft skin of her stomach, to the neat little triangle of fair hair that marks nirvana for me.
Her knees are drawn up, her legs parted, one of them resting on my thigh, and I marvel at the intensity of this position: of feeling so close to her.
Of being able to see every flutter of her eyelids.
When I slide my fingers between her legs, she’s wet and silky, her promised land exposed just for me.
I stroke her flesh so, so softly, in awe that this lush, fertile habitat can unearth itself for me, that the female body is such a subtle and intelligent and complex thing.
I brush my fingers over the glossy button of her clit and explore the delicate petals that enfold it before circling her entrance.
And all the time, I kiss her.
It’s always been clear to me that the female sex organs are far more complex than the blunt instruments with which we blokes are gifted, but my hyper-focus has never quite zoned in on the intricacies of a woman like it’s doing now.
I’m usually thinking mainly about chasing my own pleasure.
The woman’s pleasure is more marginal: it’s an ego boost to me and a channel for getting her wetter and the sex hotter.
But in this moment, all I can focus on is exploring Marlowe.
Being allowed to explore her.
Having free rein over her stunning, incredible body.
‘How does this feel?’ I murmur against her mouth as I return to her clit with featherlight touches.
‘Like you’re teasing me and teasing me,’ she says with a little gasp.
‘You want it harder?’
‘Yeah, but I kind of like the teasing, you know? It’s making me lose my mind.
’
‘That’s very good, baby.
That’s exactly what I want you to do.
I want you to lose that incredible mind.
Just lie back and pay attention to every little touch.
’
I hold her more tightly and lift my head so I can watch her face.
Her eyelids have fluttered closed again.
Her dark-blonde eyelashes lie fanned out against her cheeks.
She’s wearing no makeup today, and she looks wholesome as fuck.
I continue to touch her lightly, and with every touch I wonder how it feels to her.
How much each stroke teases her.
Torments her.
Ignites her.
She writhes beneath me, pushing into my fingertips.
Her body is warm and lithe against mine.
‘I’m close. I’m?—’
‘Look at me,’ I order her.
‘Look at me and I’ll give you everything you need.
’
She opens her eyes.
They’re magnificent.
I could lose myself in them.
Their huge pupils, their frantic movements, tell me everything I’ve wanted to know.
She’s not faking this.
She needs it. Right now, she needs me.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ I tell her as I slide two fingers inside her cunt and use my thumb to rub her harder.
She’s silken inside.
Silken . Our faces are inches apart.
I blame the rasp in my voice on the fact that my cock is rock fucking hard.
‘I’ve never been so blown away by a woman’s beauty as much as I was that time I first saw you.
Never.’ And every time I’ve seen you since.
She arches harder, lifting her hand to grip the bicep of the arm I’m using to get her off as if she’s scared I’ll pull away.
‘I want to tell you something.’ She swallows and looks away.
‘It’s kind of embarrassing.
’ I’m not the only one whose voice is strained.
Hers is breathy with desire
‘Hey,’ I say, and she looks back at me.
‘You can tell me anything.’ God knows, Marlowe plays her cards close to her chest. If she wants to open up to me, I’m damn well going to make sure she feels safe to do so.
‘No other guy has ever made me come before,’ she gets out.
‘You’re the only one.
’
She may be growing close to orgasm, but she also looks like she wants to sink through the floor with mortification.
I can tell it’s the truth and I can tell what it’s cost her to share this with me.
I swear, I feel a hundred feet tall.
In light of my little moment of insecurity just now, this is the greatest gift she could have given me.
‘You’re serious?’
She nods, her huge brown eyes fixed on me.
‘Well, I’m embarrassed for them.
Not for you. Fuck’s sake.
’
That gets me a glimmer of a smile, and I seize the opportunity to preen a little.
‘You come for me like a little champ, don’t you, love?
’ I withdraw my fingers slowly and push them inside her, hard.
‘You come on my fingers.’ Pump.
‘And my tongue.’ Pump.
‘And my dick. You love coming on my dick, don’t you?
’ Pump.
She flushes but nods.
She’s such a good fucking girl.
Comes off all innocent, but she’s so fucking responsive.
To me, anyway. Fuck knows what all the other losers were doing.
‘Yeah, you do.’
‘It’s not just your body parts.
It’s you.’
I swear I grow harder.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. You’re so, so gorgeous, Bren.
I thought so from the second I met you.
’ She gasps as I reward that endearment with another firm pump and a swirl of my thumb over her clit.
Bren. ‘And you’re so dirty.
It’s such a turn-on.
’
‘You like me corrupting you?’ I lean in closer and let her have it with my fingers, thrusting and rubbing in a way I hope will give her maximum stimulation.
‘I love it.’
Her admission is a red rag to a bull.
We may be enjoying what I strongly suspect is that nebulous concept of intimacy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t milk the sheer heat of this moment for all it’s worth.
‘Good girl. That’s so good.
How does it feel to know I’m paying you a fortune to spread your legs for me in broad daylight and let me fuck you with my fingers so I can warm you up with my cock, hmm?
’
‘Oh God,’ she moans, writhing in my arms. ‘It’s so good, I can’t bear it.
’
‘That’s right.’ I dip my head, dropping my forehead to hers.
‘I can feel this greedy cunt sucking me in. So fucking needy. I want you to come as hard as you can for me.’
I keep our foreheads pressed together, my arm banded around her body as I work her harder and harder.
She spreads her legs as far as she physically can, her breath growing more ragged, her whimpers more desperate.
I inhale them as if they belong to me, which they do.
She’s consuming me like this.
I want to consume her, to swallow her whole.
I can’t get enough of her.
If we leave this bed today, it’ll be a miracle.
She begins to babble.
‘Bren, I can’t—I’m—oh god.
Oh my god.’
‘You can.’ I hold her even more tightly.
Our foreheads are both slick with sweat.
‘Take it. Just fucking take it, you little beauty. Show me what you’ve got.
Give me what you’ve never given any other guy.
Show me that you only come for me .
’
My words sent her hurtling over the edge.
She comes around my fingers with a violent shudder that seems to go on forever, her beautiful body wracked with spasms as she rides out her perfect orgasm.
I swallow her cries with my kisses, fucking her slowly, thoroughly with my tongue as I marvel at this front row seat I have to unravelling the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
As her shudders subside, so do my kisses.
I lift my head and enjoy the sight of her lying in my arms, breathless and boneless from pleasure.
Even the throbbing of my desperate dick doesn’t distract me from this sudden thought:
Here is a woman made to be worshipped.