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“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, spreading my legs. I’m wet, that’s no surprise. But I’m also a little bit sore. He slides into me, slow and beautiful. Then he pauses, his eyes stay locked on mine, and I have to close mine so I can’t see him. I can’t look. I don’t want to know.
There’s nothing here but sex.
It’s all I want from him.
Why not? He’s damn good at it.
“Open your eyes, Bunny.”
My eyes spring open, and when I do finally look at him, he’s smirking like he knows what I’m thinking. Then he moves out and slides back in. I keep my eyes open because he needs to know he doesn’t have that effect on me. This is just something to help both of our needs.
Reaching for him, I pull him down, our lips smash against each other, and his rhythm continues. Hands run up and down my naked sides until he grips my hip hard, digging his nails in, then he slams into me. Biting my lip, I swear he almost draws blood, and I stop kissing him. My head goes back, and my arms raise above my head, reaching for something to hold onto.
“That’s it, rich girl, squeeze my cock.” His kisses linger and tease all the way down to my breast, his mouth works my nipples like an expert. He bites, sucks, and fucks all in one marvelous go. Whiskey’s hand reaches between us, and he rubs my clit with skilled precision.
The screams that leave my mouth, I can’t stop, and I’m not sure I want to either.
Whiskey doesn’t stop, not even when my eyes squeeze shut, and I can no longer move. He keeps going until another one builds, and soon he makes me come again. His hand leaves my clit, and he finishes inside of me.
“Bunny, this is worth every month I lost.” I’m too sated to reply to that. Way too tired and sore. He pulls one more kiss from my lips before he pulls out of me and stands, then walks to his bathroom. I hear the shower start, then watch as he walks back over to where I lie on the bed. I am unable to move.
“Need a hand?” I nod my head, offering him my hand. He doesn’t take it, instead he lifts me bridal style and carries me to the shower that now has steam pouring out into the bathroom. I’m too tired to argue.
Stepping in, he sets me down. My legs feel like Jell-O but I manage to stand up. He starts washing me. As the loofah moves over my arm, he pauses, his other hand dragging over my tattoos.
“Why these?”
I turn to look down at the geisha on my arm with beautifully colored roses all around her. “Roses symbolize my grandfather. He used to call my grandmother a geisha…” I pause. “As pretty as a geisha, he would say.” When I look up from my arm, his movement has stopped, and he gives me a small nod.
“They are beautiful.” He continues to wash me but doesn’t look up, so I eventually take the loofah from his hand.
“I can do it.” And I do. I wash myself, turning so my back is facing his front and quickly wash off the suds before I’m stepping out. When I dry myself with a towel, I don’t turn back to him as I head to the bedroom.
My clothes are scattered on the floor, and as I go to pick them up, his voice startles me. “I’ll take you home tomorrow.” Whiskey walks forward—he’s still wet as I watch a single bead of water run over his taut muscles and disappear behind the towel wrapped around his waist—and takes my clothes from my hands. “I know you sleep naked, so you don’t need these.” Then he throws them to the floor.
Whiskey removes the towel that I’m gripping and dries himself while I stand there like a statue, unable to move. He bends, and the tanned skin shines with water droplets when he turns, showcasing me his toned back.
“If you keep staring at me like that, I’ll have to fuck you again.”
“That would be inappropriate,” I manage to say back to him.
“Not when we’re fucking. You meant out of this bedroom. What happens in it is all in my hands.” Whiskey drops his towel to the floor, his soft cock now hard again as he stands in front of me. “Are you hungry?”
My eyes drop to his cock. He chuckles, stepping forward and lifting my chin up, so I’m face to face with him again.
“Not for that, Bunny. For food.”
I step forward, reaching out because I know he wants me, and I wrap my hand around his cock. “You can order, and I’ll have an appetizer.” Dropping to my knees, I stroke his cock, watching as the pre-cum leaves, then I lean forward, licking the top of it, making my tongue dance over his head. He breathes heavily as I take him in as far as I can go and start bobbing my head while one hand plays with his balls and the other pumps the shaft.
“Fuck, Bunny, that mouth.”
I’m wet. Again.
Whiskey’s hand grips my hair. Hard. Then he starts moving me faster and faster until I feel his balls tightening in my hand. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you better move away now.” I don’t move. Instead, I suck harder and faster until he fills my mouth as he continues to fuck it. He lets go of my hair and pulls me to stand.
“Now I need an appetizer.” Whiskey drops, and with one strong hand he lifts my leg over his shoulder and his tongue trails a path to my clit. I fall back on the soft mattress, my hand reaches out to the nightstand, gripping it as his mouth makes delicious circles around my clit and his finger pushes in, fucking me. I’m sore, but his mouth makes me forget all about, makes me forget why I’m even doing this, and making me forget why I have this insane attraction to this man.
One hand finds his hair as my hips thrust to meet him, making him move in the direction I need him the most. His fingers pump hard and fast as his tongue shows me who’s in charge. And believe me, it’s not me.
