Chapter Twelve
Untitled
Kingston
"Damn, this is big," Skye says in awe as we enter my apartment.
She slips off her heels and gives a huge sigh of relief.
"Oh my gosh, those were killing me." She turns to me with a big smile. "Your place is amazing," she says as she runs her fingers along the countertop in the kitchen. "Is this marble?"
I nod.
"Wow, you are really rich."
"I am a partner at a top law firm," I say, watching her as she walks into the living room, runs her fingers across the suede couch, and then heads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that run across the entire length of the living room and provide a beautiful view of Manhattan.
"Look at this view; I feel like I'm in a movie or maybe in Heaven.
" She starts doing pirouettes around the room.
"Heaven, I'm in Heaven," she sings. "And I feel like I'm on top of the world," she continues.
"Oh my gosh, I think I’m drunk." She hiccups.
"Mr. Kingston Chase, you didn't tell me that you lived in a dope-ass apartment like this. "
"The conversation never came up." I place my keys on the counter, and I watch her dancing in her white dress, her red hair spinning across her shoulders. For a couple of moments, I wonder what I'm doing with this beautiful woman in my apartment at one o'clock in the morning.
"You must get laid all the time," she says and pokes me in the chest. She looks up at me with a girlish smile and bats her eyelashes at me. "Is this your lair?"
"I wouldn't call it my lair, no." I grab her finger and her hand and pull her into me. "Though, maybe I should call it that."
Her lips are parted, and for a few moments, I think about kissing her. Her eyelashes slowly lower, she tilts her chin up toward me in invitation, and she waits. I think about it for two seconds before I let go of her hand and take a step back.
"Would you like some water?" I ask.
Her eyelashes flutter open and she stares at me in dismay, but then she starts dancing again.
"I would like some water, kind sir. And maybe some more wine or champagne and caviar and strawberries with chocolate dip," she sings.
"You didn't tell me you were a singer. Are you the second coming of Taylor Swift?"
"Ha ha. Very funny," she says, rolling her eyes. "I cannot carry a tune to save my life."
She's correct about that. She would never be able to make it as a pop star, but she does have a nice, sweet lilt to her voice that is quite attractive.
"So, you would like champagne or wine?" I ask as I head to the fridge. “The champagne's not cold, but—"
"Oh, whatever you have. What are you going to have, Mr. Kingston Chase?" she asks.
"You don't have to keep saying my name. I do know who I am."
"I know you know who you are," she says loudly. "Oops." She presses her hand over her mouth. "I'm being loud. Am I drunk?"
"I think you are," I say. I wonder if it's a mistake having her here.
"You're handsome," she says. "In a way too handsome for your own good way."
"What does that mean?" I ask as I open the fridge. "Okay, I have a bottle of Riesling, some cider, some beer. I can also make you a rum and Coke or a Sprite and vodka."
"What ciders do you have?" she asks, admiring the fridge. "This fridge is really nice. What is it? Samsung?"
"It's Bosch," I say, smiling down at her. "I'm quite unused to all these compliments."
"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it. I'm only trying to butter you up so you give me an amazing massage."
"I will." Though, if I were smart, I would send her packing. I don't know that this is the best idea I've ever had, offering to give her a massage in my apartment, in my bedroom, naked, while she’s all tipsy and flirty like this.
"Do you ever grow a mustache or a beard or a goatee?" she asks, reaching up and touching the side of my face before running her fingers to my chin. "I think you'd look quite handsome with a goatee."
"You don't think I look handsome now?” I ask, a single eyebrow raised.
"You'll do," she says, giggling. And before I know what's happening, she leans up on her tiptoes and gives me a quick peck on the lips.
"Oops. I wasn't supposed to do that."
"But you did." I know now is the time I should call the Uber.
"So am I getting that cider or not?" she asks, running away from me and back into the living room.
She plops down onto my oversized sofa, arms spread across the back. "This is so comfortable. I can tell this cost a lot of money."
"You are quite preoccupied with money, aren't you?"
"I suppose it's because I don't have any. If I did, I'd most likely be in Europe right now, or Australia, or maybe even South America. Don't suppose you want to give me a raise."
"You don't suppose right," I tell her with a smile. "So, cider?"
"Yes, please." She nods. "I might have to give up my other job as well."
"Oh? The one where you work as a stripper?"
"I'm not a stripper," she says. "We don't take off our clothes. Yes, we dance around in bikinis and skirts for bachelors, but nothing untoward happens. It's not like I've ever fucked any of them, and it's not like they've touched me or anything. Though, can you keep a secret?" she whispers.
"Yeah. What?"
"There's one girl, and let's just say she lets guys give her hundreds."
"What do you mean she lets guys give her hundreds?"
"Well, right at the end of the day…"
"Yeah?"
"Men put hundreds in their lips."
"Okay." I hand her a cider, then sit next to her.
She takes a sip and lets out a moan. "This is amazing!"
The sound makes my dick stir to life. "So, explain to me how they put hundreds in their mouths? I'm confused."
"Well, she can take all the hundreds she wants, but guess how she gets them?"
I take a sip of my cider. "No idea."
"What? You can't guess?" She takes another sip of her cider. "I mean, it's kind of crazy. I know I could do it as well. Some of the guys have asked me, but I said no. I am not going to do that no matter how much money I think I could make."
"You have me confused, Skye. What are you talking about?"
"You seriously don't know?"
"No. Are you going to tell me?"
"See if you can guess."
"I'm not sure. She takes the hundreds out of the guy's mouths?"
"Yeah, she takes them out of their mouths, all right." She makes an o shape with her mouth and takes another swig of cider. She’s staring at my lips, and I want to kiss her. Hard. "I can show you if you want."
"Show me what?” I shift my position on the sofa to get some relief. She’s going to be the death of me. My cock is straining against my pants, and I know it wants to bust out like a prisoner in jail.
"How she takes the hundreds out of their lips. But you’ve got to put a bill in there."
"I'm not putting cash in my mouth."
"Fine. You probably don't have a hundred dollars anyway."
"I do have a hundred. I have multiple hundreds, but I'm not going to put it in my mouth. Does it have to be in my mouth for you to show me?"
"No, but fine," she says, pushing me back.
"What are you doing?"
"You’ve got to be lying on the ground. That's what the guys are doing when she picks up the hundreds."
"So you want me to get on the ground or…?"
"No. You can stay on the couch. I'd put that cider down though."
She grabs it from my hand and puts it on the coffee table and sets hers beside it. "Okay. This is what she does," she giggles. "I don't do this though. Only one of the girls. Well, maybe two."
"Okay," I say in a bemused tone, looking at her. "And just exactly what do they do?"
She straddles my stomach, and I stare up at her.
"What's going on, Skye?"
"I'm going to show you how they get the hundreds," she says, throwing her hair back.
All I can see at this moment is her heaving bosom. She shifts back slightly against my crotch, and I hold in an involuntary groan. Is she trying to tease me, or…?
"Okay, I'm not going to actually do it, do it, but I'll show you. Kind of."
"What are you talking about?" This whole little role play escapade has me so confused.
She shifts up my body. "They don't have their panties on when they do it."
"They don't?" And then it suddenly dawns on me exactly what she's talking about.
I know I should tell her to stop, but I can't. And before I know what's happening, her panties are over my face, and she's crouching on it. I can smell her sweet wetness as her panties brush my nose and my lips. She presses down into me, and I swear I can feel the wetness. Fuck, she smells good.
She laughs and quickly moves off my face back to straddling my midsection. "They pick up the hundreds with their pussy lips!" she whisper-shouts. "Can you believe it?"
"No." I shake my head in disbelief.
Fuck. I want her. I should send her packing.
This was a bad idea. I should not have invited her to my place.
Her body stills on top of mine; she’s warm and soft in all the right places.
I reach up and grab a tendril of her hair and play with it, my hands moving to her back.
I grab her around the waist and shift her down.
"Oops, sorry. Did I smother you?"
"No," I say through gritted teeth. I am not really sure how to tell her what I'm feeling right now.
"I was just trying to show you what some of the girls do. I don't do that. Not at all, and I guess that's why I'm not making enough money, you know? They make thousands, but I guess guys like that. You know what one of them told me?"
"One of who?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "One of the guys?"
"No, one of the girls. She told me, well, it's kind of crazy."
"Crazy?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah." She leans forward and presses herself against me. "I'll whisper it into your ear."
Her lips move to my ear, and her hair drapes across my face. She inadvertently shifts and grinds against my cock. My hands reach up and squeeze her ass.
"Ooh, Mr. Chase." She wags her finger in front of my face. "Naughty, naughty."
"My bad," I say, grunting.
"Do you want to know?"
"Yeah," I say, my voice hoarse. "Tell me."
"Well, my friend, her name's…" She pauses. “I probably shouldn't tell you her name."
"No, tell me." I don’t really give a shit about her friend's name, but I love the way her body feels against mine.
"Her name's Beth Leana."
"Okay."
"Well, Beth Leana told me that sometimes when she sits on their faces…"
"Uh-huh."
"They slip their tongues inside of her." I can feel her chest shaking against me as she tries to contain her laughter. "Can you believe that?"
I’m unsure about what she wants me to say.
Of course, I can believe that a man at a bachelor party, who's lying on the ground with a hundred dollar bill in his mouth, waiting for some stripper to lower her naked pussy onto his face, would stick his tongue inside of her.
Probably wanted to stick a whole lot more than that, but I don't want to be crude.
"I guess I can," I finally say.
"It's crazy. I mean, I totally wouldn't do that. The only men that are going to stick their tongue inside of me are men that I'm dating."
"Oh, yeah? Only men that you're dating?"
"Yes." She nods as if that’s a given. "Sure, it would be fun to have some hot dude make me come as I grind on his face and get money. But I'm just not that sort of girl."
"Of course you're not." I wonder what she'd do if I grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto my face again.
"It would be totally inappropriate for me to do something like that."
"Totally," I say.
"Absolutely, one hundred percent. I'd feel like a prostitute, you know? Doing that for money."
"Of course, but, you know, I don't have any money in my mouth right now." I look over at her with an innocent expression.
"What?" She blinks at me.
"I'm just saying if you want to see what it feels like." I grin. "You can."
“I can?" she asks, blushing furiously. “You want me to—”
"I mean…" I grab her around the waist, and I slide her up again. "Why don't you show me what they do again?"
“You want me to show you?”
"I kind of didn't really know what you were talking about at first. Show me again what they do.” My heart is racing, and I’m rock-hard. This conversation is the best foreplay I’ve ever had. Well, maybe not the best, but definitely up there.
She contemplates what I’m saying and runs her fingers through her hair. I know that she knows what I'm saying and it has nothing to do with the parties that she works.
"If you really want me to show you, I can real quick."
"Of course. Real quick." If it’s even possible, my dick grows even harder than it was seconds ago as she slowly lifts her body.
She lowers her panty-clad pussy onto my face in no time, but it feels like an eternity. This time, I'm not caught unaware. This time, I'm not in shock. I nuzzle my nose into her pussy and reach my lips up and suck.
She gasps as I suction her clit between her panties and suck on it.
She grinds against my face for before I reach up and squeeze her ass and push her against my face tighter, pulling a quiet groan from her throat.
I run my tongue against her panties, then I reach up and slip the material to the side so that I can feel her unadorned clit against my tongue.
Her groaning continues as I eagerly lick her, then she rubs against me two more times; and I'm about to slip my tongue inside of her when she shifts off me.
"Well, that was very good," she mumbles. She jumps off the couch, and I groan. "Can I use your restroom?" Her face is red, and her eyes appear unfocused.
I lean up on my elbows and nod. "Sure. Just down the hallway to the right."
"Okay." And with that statement she adjusts her dress with a slight groan and she take off in a near sprit down the hall.
I'm not really sure that I should have done that, but I couldn't resist. She was the one who was playing with fire, but I was the one willing to get burned.
I tell myself that I'm going to send her home as soon as she comes back out of the bathroom.
Giving her a massage will definitely be a bad idea.
A very bad idea. But as I lick my lips, I can still taste her, and I know that I don't care what sort of trouble I get myself into this evening. If she's willing, so am I.