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I wrap my arms around his shoulders for leverage, and he takes my weight, grinds against me until I’m panting into his mouth, my eyes hazy and unfocused as he urges me faster.
I’m going to come in his arms before he’s even taken his jacket off, and he wants it, I know he wants it.
“Horny girl,” he breathes, and I shudder.
My clit grinds against his thigh. My chest presses to his as I suck his tongue into my mouth.
I lose my mind as I tip over the edge, squirming against him without a scrap of reservation as I moan like the whore I technically am.
And when I stop, he doesn’t. He doesn’t let me go as I breathe ragged breaths into his mouth. He doesn’t let up his grip on my ass as he walks me backwards to the bed and lowers himself on top.
His tie falls between my tits and tickles me. The lapels of his jacket are smooth under my fingers.
“You like the suit,” he comments, and I nod.
“I love the suit,” I tell him, and I guess that’s why he stays in it. I guess that’s why he unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock free with his clothed flesh against my nakedness.
I groan as he pushes inside, but my pussy is ready for him this time. I grunt with discomfort at the stretch, but he’s hard and fast, shunting deep as my thighs part to take him.
“Fuck me,” I hiss.
And he does.
He fucks me so hard I bite his shoulder to quell the grunts, his ear against mine as he takes me. I take his ass in my hands and urge him deeper, even though it fucking hurts, and I can hear the noises my pussy is making, the wet slaps as he pounds my flesh.
“This is insane,” he growls, and it makes me smile.
He has no idea.
“I love it,” I whisper, and he lifts his face to search my eyes.
I hold him, one hand in his hair as my thumb brushes his jaw, and there’s nothing I can do to hide how much I want him. Nothing in the world I could do to play this cool.
So I don’t.
I kiss him. Hard.
He shudders.
I stroke his face and he groans.
I wrap my legs around his waist and roll my hips to take him deeper, and I’m groaning too.
He comes with his forehead pressed to mine.
“Fuck!” he says with a grunt and his eyes closed tight.
He’s tense as he explodes, his whole body taut as his heart races through his shirt.
And then he collapses. I love taking the weight of him, love the way he crushes me into the sheets.
I listen to him breathe, my fingertips teasing the back of his neck as he calms.
When he meets my eyes his are no longer cold.
“I have a gift for you,” he says.
ALEXANDER
I FEEL COMPLETELY FUCKING unhinged as I prise myself from her arms.
I feel like I’ve just been inside Amy’s fucking soul, not just her pussy.
She’s either the best hooker in the world, or the worst – either playing a straight up scam with world-class stealth, or falling in deep with the man who popped her cherry.
I’m not sure which I’m most afraid of, and I’m no longer nervous. I’m fucking petrified.
And yet I can’t fucking stop.
Her smile is gentle. Her fingers brush my arm as she rolls to face me. “A gift?”
She’s still breathless. Her lips are puffy from kissing so hard.
I prop myself on my elbow before I can think better of it, dipping straight into my inside pocket for the fire opal. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of the handkerchief and she gasps when I tumble the gemstone free. It lands on the bed between us, and her fingers dither halfway, her mouth open.
“But this isn’t…” she starts. “This can’t be…”
“A gift,” I tell her, and press it into her open hand. “A lucky stone to replace yours.”
“Fire opal,” she whispers, and my heart starts pounding again. “It’s too much…”
I hate those words.
I hate the way they make me feel.
Over-generous. In too deep.
Rebuked.
Like leaving vintage wine on a kitchen island and finding a thanks but no thanks note when you get home.
“Do you like it?” I ask, and my tone is harsher than I intended. I register the shock on her face.
“It’s beautiful,” she tells me. She runs her thumb over the smooth face, back and forth.
“Don’t offend me. I want you to have it.”
And I do fucking want her to have it.
I want her to carry a piece of me with her, in her handbag, everywhere she goes. I want her to carry that ridiculously priced gem around every day, checking just to make sure it’s still with her.
The likelihood is that it will never stay in her handbag, and I know it. She’ll probably shove it on a windowsill somewhere, maybe in a drawer for safekeeping.
Maybe she’ll even sell it on to a raw stones specialist. Maybe I’ll find it listed at my next specialist auction.
But none of that matters.
What matters is the way she’s looking at me. The shock in her eyes as she realises I’m being serious, that this beautiful stone really is for her.
“One of your collection?”
“Yes.”
“Is this your favourite?” she asks, and I know I’m definitely fucking insane when I answer her.
“One of them.”
“Thank you. I’ll treasure it,” she says, and then she smiles.
My emotional discomfort eases the moment I see the pleasure in her eyes.
She loves it just as much as I do, maybe even more. She tips it to the light and the red inclusions sparkle.
She sighs a happy sigh. “It’s lucky,” she tells me.
Her contentment makes me smile. “How do you know?”
She stares me right in the eye as she answers, and I was right. Her fucking soul is swallowing mine whole.
“Because it’s from you,” she says.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MELISSA
I CAN’T STOP STARING at the opal.
I was expecting months of hard work, months of giving my best just to feel him kiss me and mean it. I was expecting the angel hair quartz to be nothing more than an ice-breaker, a token hint that we have something in common.
I wasn’t expecting to be lying at his side with one of his prized collection gripped in my fingers a week later.
I’ve seen this stone.
Three across, two shelves down. I polished its little plinth last Tuesday.
I feel bold with this treasure in my hand. I feel like anything is possible. It really is lucky, I know it is.
And so am I.
“I love the suit,” I tell him. “But I’d love you more out of it, please.”
My voice is a whisper tinged with desperation as I reach for his tie. I pull it loose, and he kisses me as I push his jacket from his shoulders. My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, the opal still gripped in my palm as I sweep my hand over his chest.
He is beautiful.
He is everything.
My breath is shallow as he pushes me onto my back and kicks his trousers off. Skin on skin feels divine, his cock hard against my thigh as he lowers his mouth to my nipple. I stare at his mouth as he flicks his tongue, and it takes me by surprise as his fingers find my clit.
“You’re going to come for me until you’re exhausted,” he tells me, and I moan for him. His fingers sink inside, and I feel a pressure as he moves them. “Until you’re exhausted,” he repeats and I nod.
His fingers are fast and deep, the pressure inside grows intense, building higher and higher until I can’t keep still. My legs wriggle and my ass bucks from the bed, my throat making stupid groans as I grab at the sheets.
His arm pistons. I can hear how wet I am.
“Nice and wide,” he whispers, and I spread my legs for him as wide as they’ll go, not caring that I look like a frog. Not caring that my hair is sti
cking to my clammy forehead, or that I’m probably wearing more red lipstick on my chin than my mouth.
He kisses my belly as he lowers himself down the bed, and his arms wrap around my thighs and pull my pussy to his mouth.
He sucks. He sucks right on my tender clit with his fingers inside me, and it’s too much.
I grip his hair as I come, and he likes it, he growls at me and sucks harder. I wrap my legs around his shoulders and pin him tight, and he likes that too. He slides a finger into my ass as I buck for him, and I cry out over and over.
I worry as I catch my breath, worry that tonight should be about his pleasure, not mine. But his cock is so big as he gets up to retrieve his case, his eyes hungry as he unclasps it on the bed and takes out a massager.
He plugs it in behind the nightstand.
“Until you’re exhausted,” he says again, and turns it on.
The big purple head of it buzzes. He trails it across my tits and it vibrates all the way through me. It tickles my belly on the way down, and I’m already crazy when it reaches my clit, already hissing as I know what’s coming.
He lies at my side, my thigh sandwiched between his, his cock at my hip as he presses the massager tight against me. He nuzzles my neck, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath warm and raspy.
“I want to know what turns you on,” he tells me. “You’re going to tell me.”
“This…” I whisper, and he nips my ear.
“I want to know what you think about when you play with yourself.”
“You,” I tell him, and he nips me again.
