We had fit so well together, like old friends. Friends. We could be friends.
Starting Friday, I was going to try a “normal” relationship with a regular, non-billionaire person, Jacob. I could still be friends with Luthor Thorne. I just needed a few days to get him out of my mind, off my skin.
I remembered how desperate he'd been for me in the shower, thrusting and slapping his wet body against mine, how I'd gripped the handles so tightly my knuckles had turned white. In my mind, I saw him as the man I knew, yet he was also the younger version of himself I'd imagined, the one who never got enough, whose hunger for affection could never be sated.
In the shower and in the bed, he'd come so deep inside me, panting, gripping me tight in his arms, as though I might try to get away. Why would I? Why had I?
I tipped my head back against the cool rim of the tub. I needed to come, so I could at least have those ten minutes post-climax where I was impervious to men. I'd be able to think straight, to do or say anything.
Thinking of Luthor, I drove my fingers into my flesh.
My orgasm shocked through me like lightning. Absolute pleasure. Heart pounding. Clarity.
Suzanne had me out on an organizing job all day Friday, and this time I had a brand-new assistant to help me.
Suzanne and I hadn't started out as partners. It was more like my business in the beginning, and she started by helping with the bookkeeping. After a few months, she ran the numbers and insisted she take over the phone number and the booking system I'd been running through a mini-office service. She lowered my overhead, and then she took things a step further and started acting as a salesperson, going to social networking functions with business cards, and actually selling my time. She provided a valuable service, since I had zero interest in schmoozing. She very much deserved her commission, but it was getting to the point where her commissions were limited during the busy times, because I only had two hands and could do but one job at a time.
We'd always talked about hiring more staff so that she and I could grow the business without limitations, and this new assistant was just the first step.
The kid—she was twenty-three, not much younger than me, but she still seemed like a kid—was eager, but she nearly wore me out with her enthusiasm. I was considering firing her when I realized we'd finished the job two hours early. It had only felt longer because of all her annoying questions.
I could certainly field a few questions if it meant finishing two hours early!
Back home, I showered and got changed for my date with Jacob. As far as I saw it, our next step would be to do what we'd been doing, perhaps with more frequency, and to stop doing it with other people. That seemed both reasonable and enjoyable to me, but as the minutes ticked by leading up to seven o'clock, I re-read his email and started to sweat.
When a guy says he “wants more,” what the heck does that mean? Since when did guys want more?
My phone rang at exactly seven.
“Hello?”
“I'm down in front,” he said.
“Why don't you park and come up for a minute?”
I detected a hint of irritation in his voice as he said, “Are you not ready?”
I didn't have an answer. I was ready, but I wanted to see him on my turf, in my condo. “Just come up for a minute.”
“Already parking.”
Five minutes later, I opened the door before he could knock.
His forehead furrowed. “You have a tan.”
I grabbed his arm and pulled him in. “I'll have to tan a lot more before we can match.” I arched up to kiss him hello. He moved his head at the last second, and my kiss landed on his jaw.
He was clean-shaven, and his face was smooth and smelled delicious, as always. I reached up and stroked his curly, black hair. We shifted around and he kissed me, landing on the lips this time.
I sensed a hesitation, a holding back, which made me want him, so bad.
My hands scrambled down his front, where they latched onto his belt buckle, working it quickly.
“Mm,” he said into my mouth.
I pulled back and gazed up at his dark brown eyes. “I want you so bad.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “No time. Come on, let's go.”
I pouted and snaked one hand down the front of his jeans. “I thought you missed me.”
He gasped as I latched onto his semi-firm cock. “I did, Lexie.”
I squeezed the shaft and kissed him hard, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. “Show me.”
He groaned and glanced over at the door, now shut.
“Show me,” I demanded.
He grabbed me roughly and picked me up. I squealed and wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to the bedroom.
“I need you to f**k me,” I said.
“Shush.”
I pulled off my jeans and panties at the same time and lay back on the bed, pulling my knees out to the sides and against myself.
Keeping his gaze on my face, he finished unfastening his pants and dropped them. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the chair in the corner.
His c**k was three-quarters rigid, and my eyes widened. For an instant, the high-school-virgin part of my brain feared he might be too big for me, and the fear coursed through me along with the pleasurable sexual excitement. Fear and pleasure at once.
He eased up onto the bed slowly, moving like a lion.
“Spank me,” I said.
“Why?” He seemed genuinely confused by my request.
I whimpered and rolled over. “Because I want you to.”
After a moment of hesitation, he slapped my butt cheek, not very hard, but enough to sting.
I cried out in pleasure and hugged the pillow beneath my chest.
Spank me because I've been with another man, I thought.
He slapped me again, a little harder, and I cried out louder.
Spank me because I'm bad, I thought. Because I don't know what I want, and I'm not normal.
Jacob started talking, saying dirty things about pounding my pu**y, but my thoughts drowned him out.
He kept spanking me, and I thought maybe I'd ruined the mood, that there'd be no sex after all this, but then I felt his other hand nudging through my labia. He spanked me again, the slap ringing through the room as he pushed his finger through the wetness and over my red-hot clit, burning like an ember for his touch.
He spanked me some more, and fingered me at the same time. I was in ecstasy, and the thoughts in my head kept jumbling around.
I'm bad. I'm dirty. I don't deserve the love and respect of a good man like Jacob.
He stopped for a moment, and I heard the crinkling of a condom packet being torn open.
He grabbed my h*ps and I felt something nudge against my pu**y. He pushed in, moving easily in my very wet pu**y. But I was too wet. I couldn't feel it. Especially not after all the spanking, the stinging still burning on my cheeks.