EIGHT Claim
DOMINIC
For someone who’s claiming to have former lovers, Sadie’s attitude seems awfully hesitant. But maybe she’s nervous. If so, I can take that in stride. Easing a client’s fears is part of the job.
“Relax, Sadie. I’ll take good care of you. And don’t worry, I have condoms in my pocket.” Wearing one for me is a foregone conclusion. I’ve never gone without.
“Not necessary. I’ve been shown your test results, and I take shots to cover birth control.”
Okay, well, that’ll be different. But the lady gets what the lady wants.
With the housekeeping seen to, I begin my seduction by bringing my arms around her waist and locking lips with her again. Maybe because we’ve been kissing already, her body melts against mine, allowing me to nuzzle her ear and neck.
Sliding my palms upward over her abdomen bit by bit so she can feel me combing over her clothes, I rub my thumbs over her nipples, hearing her breaths grow louder and faster.
A green light.
Without highlighting the fact, I lift the hem of her sweater, removing it in a single pull. Then I press her torso flush against mine as I lay back on her bed. One thing I’ve found with women who are shy about exposing themselves for the first time is distracting them with pleasure is key.
As we kiss, I keep my caresses and strokes limited to the flesh of her bare back, spine, and shoulder blades, but as things between us grow hotter and heavier, I covertly unfasten her bra.
Tracing my hands along her slim figure, I dip them until they’re cupping her ass, giving that roundness a firm squeeze. She moans into my mouth, and would you look at that? My lost wood is making a reappearance.
Hallelujah.
Dropping tiny fluttering pecks along the column of her throat, I tug her loosened bra away with no issue, one hand cupping the nakedness of her left breast. That’s when I detect the bumpy texture and redness of more scarring. It trails not only down the left side of her face, neck, and arm, but across her shoulder and ribcage, too.
Bands of damaged skin blaze across that breast, altering the nipple into a pyramid shape rather than the little button most women have.
Mother of fuck.
Yet I don’t stop the music despite my lack of experience dealing with a client who has suffered something disfiguring to one of the most delicate parts of her body. I focus on what I’m about to do next instead, knowing I’ll need to go forward with a ton of extra care.
So, sitting on the edge of her mattress, I extend the tip of my tongue and lick that injured nipple with a barely-there caress. Afterward, when she gives me no response at all, I’m not sure if she even feels it. I do a second pass, this time exerting a tad more force. When her gaze latches onto mine, I don’t quit, upping the pressure with each press of my tongue.
When she gasps, though, I slam on the brakes.
“That hurt?”
“No, it feels... exquisite.”
Nice to know.
Now that I can move forward with what works for her, I switch to her uninjured nipple, using the same force.
“Go back,” she whispers, and I catch her eye. “Go back to the other side. The left one is more sensitive.”
Keeping that in the back of my brain, I lightly suckle her, working my tongue right along the outside of that misshapen nipple, and when I hear her expel a breathy mewl it makes all my blood drain south.
Once I have her throwing her head back with passion, I bring her other nipple between my finger and thumb, pinching it until her brows knit before backing off on the pressure again. I discovered just how vital this particular erogenous zone is through trial and error.
Fondling and manipulating a woman’s tits for extended amounts of time often turns out to be more than effective at turning her on. In fact, playing with them for long enough can have her nearly to climax before you even take her pants off. Another method that works is speaking the right language.
And by language, I mean not backing off on the dirty talk.
“You wet yet, Sadie?”
“Yes,” she purrs like a kitten.
“I bet you are,” I tell her, letting my voice lower into a growl. So many women love it when I sound more feral and animalistic. “I bet that pussy of yours is just begging for my attention. I bet it’s drenched and aching for me, isn’t it?”
The second I finish speaking, I return to suckling her left nipple while tweaking the other one.
“Unnng, fuck,” she mutters. “Fuck, yes.”
This is music to my ears. Especially as her hips flex toward me as if needing to hump something. Like her internal muscles are clenching on emptiness and pleading to be filled. The nails of her good hand are digging into my shoulder while her twisted hand is essentially ignored, neglected at her side.
I can’t have that.
Besides, whipping a woman into a frenzy by touching as much of her as possible has always proven to be a successful strategy for me. Retreating from those B-cups of hers, I take Sadie’s left arm in my hand and lift it to my mouth, kissing along the angular shape.
“You feel that?”
She shakes her head. “Too much nerve damage.”
Despite her answer, I kiss along every inch of it, testing whatever spots I can reach for any signs of sensation. But there’s nothing. I massage it, using all my skills as a masseuse, but receive the same result. The hand is frozen, completely paralyzed, and so is her wrist. It takes me grazing along the inside of her forearm halfway to her elbow before she feels anything at all.
I feel awful that this happened to her, awful for her sake, but I also know it’s none of my business. If she wanted to share with me, she would’ve done it.
Now’s not the time, anyway.
I glide the yoga pants and tiny bikini panties she’s wearing to her knees, then after removing her socks and shoes, fold it all in half and set it in the nearby chair. It’s as I turn back and take in the rest of her body that I notice there are more burns on her left thigh and hip.
The scar tissue winds along the top of her leg in a long rectangular patch that reminds me of a grid of some sort. It flows all the way down to her kneecap.
No wonder she walks with a limp sometimes.
I purposely don’t linger over these imperfections on her skin since it’s not where I need to be. This woman is craving some sexual gratification, and if there’s one thing I know how to deliver, it’s that.
I do monitor her for any signs of discomfort, though, as I trade places with her, freeing up my spot on her mattress. We may get more rambunctious later on, but the first time out isn’t the best for pushing boundaries. Now is about getting her to where she needs to go and learning her preferences along the trip.
Urging my thumb into the arch of her foot, I nudge her leg until she takes the hint and reclines across her bed linens. It’s an interesting image, her draped over that baby blue throw blanket. It rests on top of some sort of cover or comforter thing in a striped pattern of cream and a slightly darker shade of blue.
If I was the artistic type, I’d want to paint her. Or to at least take a snapshot of her.
To me, Sadie Vincent is cover-model gorgeous, scars or no scars.
The flesh that isn’t damaged is as smooth as silk, and as I drag my palms up the outside of her legs, I relish in their feel as I position them so that her thighs gape open. Her scent wafts up to me, clicking my brain over into something a lot more primal and a lot less civilized.
This is often the case for me when I get lost in my work, and with Sadie, getting lost in the essence and taste of her is something I’m more than happy to commit to.
Hell, I’m straight-up eager.
So, crawling forward, I dip my head between her legs and lap up the arousal that’s waiting for me there.
Fulfilling this particular duty requires no effort on my part as I gorge on her center, loving how her folds feel against my tongue. Gripping her ass in my hands, I lift her up those few necessary inches to change my taste testing into a feast and just... indulge.
She’s earthy like I was expecting, but there’s also this underlying sweet citrus flavor that reminds me of some rich dessert. Orally pleasing her is nothing but a treat.
“Uhnngn, fuck. Uhnnnnmm, yes...” she moans, those waves of caramel-brown hair flying across her pillows as she flings her head back in elation. Elation I’ve brought out in her. Hearing her ecstasy escalating after witnessing how removed and distant she tends to be is my reward.
Employer or not, right now, Sadie is my prize.
Settling in for a longer stay, I lay my mouth along her core, licking and suckling at my leisure as I listen to the noises she makes. I do this for an eternity, for so long that my tongue actually starts to tire out on me a little before I switch targets to her clit.
Using my lips to suck that tiny cluster of nerves into and out of my mouth until her moans have transformed into a never-ending keen has my own libido surging up in search of some action.
But I haven’t become an accomplished seducer of women for nothing.
I spend another few minutes with nothing more than my tongue on her clit, then I switch to endgame mode by inserting a finger into her core.
Despite Sadie being fairly tall for a woman—she’s only three inches shorter than me and I’m six foot—her entrance is one of the snuggest I’ve ever felt. Even though she’s admitted to not being a virgin, I wouldn’t know it based on how tight she feels.
Getting that second finger inside her makes how tiny she is even more noticeable. It also makes her bellow.
“What are you... unnngnn doing to me?”
Her right hand is clenched into a swirl of her linens, her chest is heaving, and there are beads of perspiration breaking out along her hairline. She’s close, so close, and I have to catch every flutter of an eyelash, every sound, every expression. Anything else isn’t an option. I need these memories for the future.
It’s difficult to tear my gaze away from her face, but I manage so that I can concentrate on her clit while plunging my fingers into and out of her. I’m suckling her again when I feel that telltale throbbing against my tongue, and Sadie shudders as she comes, shrieking at the top of her lungs.
“Now, it’s now... Ohhhh... Oh... Ohhhh...”
I love being front and center for a woman’s climax and watching Sadie’s is no exception.
After all her unpredictability, it’s actually quite a relief to get her here. I soften my touches as she settles down, noticing that an orgasm makes her flush pink, from stem to stern. Even though that color is now fading, a full-body blush is alluring as fuck to me.
Maybe it could be my new kink.
And now all I can think about is how wonderful having that tight little pussy of hers will feel around my cock. Since my size is on the thicker side, I enter her slowly. So slowly that it’s almost excruciating. But the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt her.
I’d never forgive myself for that.
I’m seriously wondering if I can fit when the sheer euphoria of being inside her without any barrier washes over me.
Fuck. Just... fuck.
This is so much more than what I bargained for. How have I existed for twenty-eight years without experiencing this?
Without warning something gives within her—or she relaxes—and I burrow past any resistance all the way to the hilt. Being with her like this is earth-shattering. She’s clenched down on me so perfectly that I’m forced to imagine the least sexy images I can think of just to keep myself from going off like a rocket, and that’s something I rarely have to do.
But I have to now. I have to with Sadie.
For Chrissakes, it’s like I’m holding on to my control by my fingernails. I pull out to take a few seconds of a breather.
“I’m gonna make you come again,” I tell Sadie, my body all too aware of how it’s lined up above hers.
“No one’s ever made me come twice,” she whispers in a raw rasp.
“That ends here.”
I’d like to say that a lack of multiple orgasms isn’t a common issue, but I’ve heard this from so many women. Women of all ages, too. I can’t believe the men they were with weren’t getting the job done, but a lot of them weren’t. Some not even after decades of practice.
Kinda pathetic, if you ask me.
Even a dude with sexual problems or who comes too early should be able to get his woman off with his tongue and fingers. Especially today with all the answers right there on the internet.
Again, I work us into a rhythm, and since I still don’t know all of Sadie’s quirks, I ask her about them.
“You like tasting yourself on my lips?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wanna try it?”
She raises her head, so I French her, delving my tongue into her mouth. On occasion, I’ve had clients be repulsed by this, but not Sadie. She seems to like it, so I continue the kiss, suckling her tongue with my own.
Our bodies are moving as one, her core so warm around me, and I go back to pinching her nipple to rev her up to the same intense level again. She’s not automatically flying into number two, though, so I alter our positions until we’re on our sides facing one another, my hand burrowing a path between us.
Once I locate her clit, I increase my pace, kissing the hollow of her neck beneath her ear.
And that does it. She cries out, her voice loud now that my ears are no longer muffled by her thighs, but I don’t mind at all. I like hearing her as she roars out my name.
“Dom...”
It’s a relief to allow my body to give in to hers, to let her milk my own climax from my cock as my release pours out of me. As soon as I’m capable, I rise from the mattress to retrieve a warm washcloth from the attached bathroom.
It’s as I’m returning that I catch sight of her levering up on one of her knees, ass in the air, the pearly fluid of my seed visibly leaking from that glistening pink pussy of hers.
I freeze in place, rooted to the spot. Since I’ve always worn protection in my line of work and even before that, I’ve never been able to view a woman sprawled naked across her bed with my come dribbling out of her. I had no clue that seeing it would stir something up inside of me. Something primitive. Something I don’t even know how to describe.
Whatever that something is makes me want to claim Sadie. To own her. To call her mine.
Which, even if she chooses me to be her long-term guy, she’d probably be unwilling to allow. I literally feel like a caveman right now, and what woman wants that?
“What’s wrong?” she eventually demands to know, and it hits me that I’m standing here like some moron with a washcloth bunched up in my fist that’s meant for her.
I hand it over and plant my backside on the corner of her mattress. I’m half afraid to change my position even though I know most women prefer to cuddle at this point. But if I do, I might wrap my arms around her and refuse to let go.
That’s when I peek at my watch and register the time.
“Want something to eat?” I ask her.
“Yeah, actually,” she tells me, and I look at her. Her limbs are loose and sated, any of the pinched features I’ve noted before, gone.
I spoke with Maxine earlier this morning and requested that she provide me with a picnic basket full of finger sandwiches. It sounded so cool to me then, but now the idea sounds kinda lame. Will Sadie like it? Or will the notion of a cold dinner prove dissatisfying to her?
Suppose I’ll have to risk it.
Yanking on my clothes, I traipse over to her door and step through. I give her only a brief glance behind me before vamoosing out of there. I need a second to get my head straight.
“Be right back.”