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“What did you come in here for?”
He twisted me in a heartbeat, pulling me up to straddle his legs, his face in mine. “I came in here foryou, Lydia, my green-eyed temptress. Not for kink, or bruises, or gaping pussy and tears... just you.”
His mouth was on mine in a flash, hands in my hair. His tongue was so fierce, knocking me right off kilter. This wasn’t like with Stuart, the twist of his tongue around mine was primal, raw... it was amazing. I kissed James right back, wrapping my arms around his neck for extra balance as he got to his feet, taking me with him. He laid me on the bed, barely breaking contact, covering the whole length of my body with his. I grappled with his shirt, desperate for skin on skin, desperate for the chimera.
“Please let me see you,” I begged into his mouth. “Please.” He raised himself up, straddling me with solid thighs, the outline of his cock thick through his suit trousers. I sucked in breath as he took off his shirt, and there, in all its glorious darkness, was the beast upon his chest. I traced its lines with shaky fingers, all the way down his ribs. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Rebecca’s a fine artist.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Some of it. Good pain, though, Cat, some pain feels so good.”
“I’m learning that.”
“You’ll learn a lot from Rebecca, she’s extremely experienced.”
I dared to meet his eyes, wrenching my gaze from the beast. “I want to learn from you. From Masque.”
“This isn’t a conversation for now, Lydia, I’m ravenous.” He lowered himself onto me, sculpted muscle hard against my tender breasts. I loved his skin against mine, the chimera scorching, just like I’d wanted... just like I’d imagined. He worked his way down with his mouth, stopping to suck at my nipples. I awaited the pain of his bite, but it didn’t come. “I knew you’d have perfect tits, Cat.” He met my eyes as he flicked his tongue. “They’ll learn to love pain, I promise.”
“You can hurt me, James,” I moaned. “I’m ready.”
“I have other plans.” He carried on down, slowly, and my stomach knotted as he positioned himself between my legs, tickling the soft line of hair with his breath.
“I should have shaved... like Rebecca.”
“Your pussy is divine as it is, Lydia. Don’t be shy.” He growled in the back of his throat, and pulled my lips apart, stretching them wide with his fingers. I closed my eyes, fighting back the embarrassment. “Look at me, Cat.” I did as he asked, and his eyes were so honest, so raw. “You’re soft as a flower, Lydia, I wish you could see how pretty your cunt is, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.” He ran his tongue over me, darting ever so lightly over my clit. I squirmed and he gripped my thighs, holding me still. “I’m going to make you cum, and you’re going to let me. You will not fake, or exaggerate, or rush yourself for the sake of dramatics. You must relax and let it happen. Am I clear?”
I nodded.
“Deep breaths. Relax.”
I did as he instructed, regular, rhythmic breathing while he kissed his way around the soft folds of me. I moaned when he sucked my clit into his mouth, and it was all genuine. He took his time, soft growls of pleasure ramping up my own, and I soon forgot about any embarrassment, writhing against his mouth as he played me with expert care. I let out a hiss as he slid two fingers inside. “You’re tight, Lydia, so fucking tight. You’re going to feel so fucking good around my cock.” A third finger took my breath, and I started to jerk against him, adding friction. “This may feel strange, Cat, relax.” He curled his fingers inside me, pressing tight, and the pressure felt so weird, almost a low ache, but not quite painful. He worked his hand in a solid rhythm, slowly at first, until the beat overtook me and I was reaching for him, consumed by primal need I’d never felt before, and then the unthinkable happened. I needed to pee. Really bad. Really, really fucking bad. I gripped at his wrist, but he didn’t ease up.
“I need the toilet,” I rasped. “Sorry, James, I need to go.”
“You don’t, Lydia, trust me.”
Panic bloomed beneath lust. “I do, James. I really need to pee.”
“You don’t.”
I whimpered as he picked up pace a little more, pressure building. “James...”
He smiled as he pressed a hand hard on my lower belly, right on my bladder. “Piss, Lydia, if you need to, don’t fight it. Let it go.”
“I can’t...”
“You can. It isn’t piss, believe me, but even if it is...” He pressed harder, and pumped his fingers with renewed urgency until something inside me went crazy. My feet thrashed about on the bed, scuffing at the sheets for grip. “Let it go, Lydia, let it out.”
I didn’t recognise the noises coming from me: weird groans and wheezes as my hands gripped at the bed, at him, anywhere I could reach. “James!”
“That’s it, Cat, that’s it...”
The noises, oh my God the noises, slurping wet noises, all from me, but I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop. I exploded, swearing and gritting my teeth and hissing out air, bucking and jerking and kicking at the bed. My hands flattened against his back, fingers desperate for grip. He kept playing me, all the way through, keeping up a perfect rhythm until I flopped down lifeless, gasping for breath.
“Oh my God,” I said. “What the hell was that?”
