Chapter 27
Cal
“Carnal desire enflaming; he on Eve
Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him
As wantonly repaid; in lust they burn”
—Milton, Paradise Lost
‘Inside me,’ she admits, sounding defeated.
‘Inside where? Your mouth? Your arse?’
‘Inside my—pussy.’
‘Yes, you do. You know it. Permission to switch to lube.’
She laugh-groans her assent.
I release her nipples. ‘What a good, dirty girl for me. Stay exactly where you are.’
I’m washing my hands as fast as I can in the ensuite bathroom, soaping them up because I suspect this scented oil is not pussy-friendly and I don’t want to mess with her lady garden. You work with Gen long enough, you become a reluctant expert in the wonders of the vaginal microbiome.
I’ve got lube if she needs it, but I bet she fucking doesn’t.
In the minute I’ve been gone, Aida’s drawn her feet up flat on the massage table, shapely legs moving restlessly, oiled skin lustrous in this dim lighting.
I stand beside her and smooth a palm down her breastbone so I can splay my fingers over her stomach.
Making her orgasm spontaneously in the Zebra Club was a lot of fun, but having her naked and worked up and all to myself is a whole other stratosphere.
With my other hand, I graze the silky length of her thigh before stopping just shy of where I know she needs me. I brush the backs of my knuckles over the soft skin there.
‘Tell me what you can feel here,’ I say. My fingers splay wider, more possessively, across her stomach.
She exhales softly. ‘Your hand on my stomach.’
‘And how does it feel?’
‘Like… you’re grounding me. It’s a really good weight. I feel safe.’
‘Good,’ I say gruffly. ‘It’ll feel even better in a sec when I’m massaging you from the inside. And here?’ My knuckles continue to tease her nerve endings.
‘Your hand about three inches from where I actually need it,’ she retorts, and I snort. This woman.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ I say patronisingly, ‘and frankly, it’s the only kind of virtue I’m interested in.
How do you want the rest of your massage—you want me to take it slow?
Go lightly? Wind you more and more tightly?
Or you want me to let rip, show you what I’m really capable of when no one else is around? ’
‘Oh God,’ she groans. ‘Sometime I’d like you go to slow, but not now. You’ve gotten me too hot already.’
‘I can see that.’ I drop a kiss to her knee before pulling it towards me so her leg drops open.
Even in the relative dark, her cunt is glistening so prettily.
She’s fucking soaking, and I haven’t even touched her there.
I could—Jesus fuck, I could climb up and sink so deep inside her she wouldn’t know which way was up.
But not today.
Today is about her. About ensuring she knows she’s squarely in the driving seat. About responding to her needs rather than asserting mine.
Inflicting mine.
‘So what you’re saying,’ I continue slowly, my fingers now teasing the soft pad of waxed skin inside her thigh crease, ‘is you need me to fuck you as hard as I can with my tongue and my fingers.’
‘Uh, yes,’ she pants out, her desire warring with what’s clearly an unease with advocating for her needs.
I’ll soon fuck the latter out of her.
‘That’s lucky,’ I tell her, ‘because I’ve been wanting to spread you out, and taste you, and suck on your clit very badly indeed since you walked into my club in those red fucking leather shorts, and in a lower-key way for a long, long time, baby.’
Without further preamble, I push two fingers hard inside her and seal my thumb to her clit. It’s a good thing I’m holding her down with my other hand, because she practically shoots off the bed.
‘Fucking hell,’ I say. ‘No lube needed here. You are fucking drenched, my darling. Have you been lying here this whole time, getting wetter and wetter and just waiting for my hands?’
‘Yeah,’ she moans.
‘Damn right you have.’ I release her clit and crook my fingers inside her, and she inhales sharply.
‘Jesus, Cal.’
‘Jesus is right. Right now I’m your saviour. I’m here to bring you back to life, you know? Because no one, and I mean no one’—I bend and press a kiss to her inner thigh—‘is allowed to let you feel like you’re anything other than the glorious, sexy as fuck, sexual being you are.’
I can’t hold off anymore. With my head bent, I can smell the unmistakable musk of her need. I need to bury my face right there.
In nirvana.
‘Hold on,’ I grunt, moving to the table. ‘Shuffle down a bit.’ I preempt this by grabbing her under her thighs and pulling her down a few inches by the arse so I can go to town on her more easily.
‘Oh, baby,’ I say, both hands massaging her oil-slicked tits before I drag them south and spread her thighs. I hold her like that, wide open and glistening just for me, before I lower my head to sample her.
Fuck. I love eating pussy. I love everything about it. Love how filthy it feels to bury my nose and mouth in a warm, wet cunt. How carnal. I love the power it gives me. Love how mutually beneficial it is—how wet and wanton it gets the women I tend to and how hard it gets me.
But let’s face it. Most of the women I eat are Alchemy regulars: beautiful creatures who know what they want and shove their pussies in my face and rub them against my tongue. They’re old hands.
This is different. Aida is different. There’s no doubt she wants this—badly—but she’s fragile.
This is a very conscious act for her. It’s a big fucking deal for her and a big responsibility for me, and the sense of wonder I feel that it’s me she’s entrusted to do this washes over me afresh as I bend my head, and breathe in her scent, and run my tongue upwards from her entrance to her clit in the longest, roughest lick I can give her.