Sexy as Hell Box Set (3 page)

“Oh, God,” Victor breathed. “What is she
doing
?”

“Pleasuring herself,” I said, shifting slightly so I could look at him. Tonight his expression fascinated me more than Julie’s show.

“That isn’t normal,” he said. “Sorry, but it isn’t.”

“Not normal to you, maybe, but very normal to her. She loves it. You wait. She’ll come like a train in a minute.”

“How can you come from that?” he asked, moving his head as though to turn to me but failing to pull his gaze from her. “How can that be nice, make you feel nice?”

“Have you ever tried it?” I asked, knowing full well he hadn’t. If he’d had to ask me such a thing, he didn’t understand.

“No, and I don’t bloody intend to either.” He rested into the chair then crossed his arms over his chest.

Defence mechanism. A way to distance himself from what he was seeing.

Julie groaned, whipping on, frenzied in her attack. She turned then, continuing to whip, and stared directly at our window. Clips adorned her nipples, joined by a silver chain. She lifted it and draped it behind her bottom teeth, then closed her mouth.

“What the hell?” Victor said quietly.

Eyes closing, Julie flagellated with one hand and cupped her sex with the other. Moaning, she used her thumb and pinky to spread her wet slit wide, then dipped her middle three fingers into her hole. She fucked herself, body jolting from each strike and more than a little pleasure she was unleashing down there. Legs widening, she withdrew her fingers and circled her clit, vigorous movements that had her hips lifting and her back arching. Her change in position meant the chain raised her breasts, each nipple distended, elongated. She trembled from the force of her whip.

I glanced across at Victor. He was breathing heavily, and sweat had broken out at his temples. He still had his hands fisted, and I noted a severe blush on his cheeks. And I noticed something else too.

“Quite a bulge you have going on there,” I said.

For all his bluster on this being wrong, he was turned on. Some part of his brain recognised that Julie was getting off on the pain.

“I can’t…can’t help it,” he whispered. “She’s just so violent, so…into what she’s doing. Look at her nipples. She’s tugging them so hard. Christ…”

“She won’t last long now,” I said, still watching Victor. I knew Julie’s performance off by heart. Once she turned, once she put that chain in her mouth, she was almost there.

Julie wailed out the beginning of her release. The long, drawn-out yell combined with the crack of the whip was undeniably arousing. I was wet and I needed to touch. I reached across and deftly pulled down Victor’s zip. Freed him and enclosed my hand around his hardness. I pumped his fat length, manoeuvring onto my knees so I could lean over the arms of our chairs. He didn’t protest, but lifted his hips as though silently offering his cock to find a home in my mouth. I sucked him in, and with three suctioned pulls I had him coming. Wet heat flooded my mouth, and I swallowed just in time for the next shot. He gripped my hair, grabbed the chair arm with his other hand, and gave a hoarse cry.

Victor, the man who might have thought he knew it all, was only just seeing the tip of the iceberg.

How the bloody hell did I end up being sucked off by the crazy woman from the damn coffee shop? No, it was more than sucked off, she was gulping and guzzling me deep into her sublimely hot throat. It wasn’t your regular blowjob—those I had some modicum of self-control over. No, this, delivered by a wanton, trickster of a creature, had me consumed, completely possessed. Three wickedly rich slurps connecting her palate to my cock and it was all over. I’d never come to the boil so fast or hit the finish line with such devastating speed. I wasn’t proud of either fact. To tell you the truth, I was fucking embarrassed.

I’d clenched my fists at some point and now the strands of her hair, woven through the softer skin at the seams of my fingers, were nylon-sharp with tension.

But she didn’t complain at my firm grip. Her head kept bobbing, her tongue slipping and sliding and hugging me like a silken, moist blanket.

I wanted her to keep going, I needed her to stop. As my climax dissipated, sensations washed through me in an avalanche of release. It was both exquisite and agony and it scared the shit out of me.

“Please.” I shifted on the chair. “Please, no more.” I was panting and breathless, my vision foggy, and I had a tingling in my fingertips.

I dragged in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to circulate. My heart was thudding so hard I could feel the flow of the cardiac contractions, top to base, rippling within the inner walls of my chest.

Keep going, you onerous bugger.

Pulling harder at her hair, I shut my eyes. I didn’t need to see Julie writhing in the afterglow of her orgasm. I’d had as much as I could take. The bombardment of pleasure, extreme pleasure, in one short, sharp blast was the same as getting a slap around the face or a kick up the backside. I needed to re-align my senses and let my body calm down.

I opened my eyes as Zara raised her head. She kept her hand coiled around my cock. There was a drip of cum sitting right in the centre of her bottom lip.

She must have sensed the droplet there, or seen me staring, because she made a show of scooping up the cum, balancing it on the pointy pink end of her tongue and then drawing it into that sinful mouth of hers.

My cock twitched against her palm; my heart continued to thud.

Dirty bitch.

“So, Victor,” she said with a smug smile, “did you know watching a woman flagellating herself to orgasm would turn you on so much?” She tilted her head and tumbles of her now messy, tangled hair slipped over her shoulders.

I fingered my damp brow, worrying that I was clammy. No, just sweaty. Sweat I could handle. Sweat could be wiped away and forgotten on the sleeve of my shirt.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I pressed my arm over my forehead then gripped the arms of the chair again.

She laughed, not with humour, just with the mirth of being right. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m not sweet.” I frowned.

She bloody annoyed me. She was so damn cocky and sure of herself and now she thought I was
sweet
of all things. I perhaps had some issues, limitations, and I wasn’t as clued up on the seedier aspects of the city as she was, but I wasn’t fucking sweet. I was a successful businessman—no, more than successful, I had my career by the balls and was dragging it exactly where I wanted it to go and making a tidy fortune along the way. Had been for several years now.

“Ah, you prefer to be considered manly, don’t you?” She stroked my face, temple, cheek, chin and then up the other side in a caressing, sweeping gesture.

It didn’t feel caring. It felt like she was mocking me. I hated to be mocked and she’d done more than her fair share of it tonight. Hell, I couldn’t remember when anyone had last dared mock me. Yet here she was…

The redness of anger that grabbed me sent sharp fingers of heat over my skin. My temper could reach Richter scale proportions, it was true, but it hadn’t for so long. Not for years now. I couldn’t afford for it to. But Zara, she was taking me to the edge of that cliff.

No, I wouldn’t tip over the ledge. She wasn’t worth it.
This
wasn’t worth it. And certainly it wouldn’t be ideal considering the already rampant rate of my heart. I sucked in a great pull of air, held my breath and tried to force the air out, feeling the pressure increase in my lungs. My heart clattered all the harder, almost rocking my whole body to its tempo. I should be willing it to slow down but all I could think about was getting up, tucking my cock away and leaving.

All this crap about hanging around with her for a month while she showed me
new
things was bullshit. I’d said yes out of curiosity. Out of not wanting to go back on my word or look a coward.

“You can be manly
and
sweet,” she whispered onto my lips.

I slowly blew out my breath, felt a modicum of normality return.

She leaned in, closer still, as though trying to breathe in my air. When she spoke her lips brushed mine as her mouth moved around the syllables. “Right now what I’m holding is
all
man.” She gave my dick a stroke and the traitorous blighter twitched despite the fact it was softening. “But your blue eyes, they’re sweet as sugar.”

“Stop saying
sweet
.” I’d spoken through gritted teeth.

“Okay, how about delightful, does that sound better?”

“Marginally.” I frowned.

“So what do you think? You want to stay and see the next show? See if we can wake Sid Vicious up again?” She squeezed my cock. “Or shall we go somewhere else?”

“Please, do not start naming my dick. We’re not nearly familiar enough for that kind of crap.” Talk about taking liberties. Even Helen, after four years together, hadn’t baptised my prick.

“Oh, but I beg to differ. You’ve just come down my throat, doesn’t that give me some kind of naming rights?”

I shifted, pushing her off my lap and dislodging her hold on my cock. “No, it doesn’t. I didn’t exactly have much say in the matter, did I?”

“But you didn’t complain.” She licked her lips. “And it didn’t take long, did it?”

I stood, stuffed my cock away and turned from the window, blocking out the view of Julie, shining with sweat and red with lashmarks as she bowed and smiled at her audience. “I’m out of here.”

“Where are we going?” She stood, placed one hand on her hip and straightened out her hair with the other.

“We?”

“Yes, we.’

“
We’re
not going anywhere. I’m going home.” I needed to chill out, lay the hell down, take one of my pills. It was about due.

She pouted. “But, Victor, I thought we were together now, for the month.”

“What, twenty-four-seven?” She couldn’t be serious. She’d bloody suffocate me. Not to mention I had a shedload of work to be getting on with.

“Well, no, not twenty-four-seven, but at night at least. You know, right up until the witching hour.”

You’re a fucking witch.
The words were on my tongue, but I didn’t let them escape, even though they were slippery suckers and desperate to get out. “Witching hour?”

“Yeah, until at least midnight, every night.”

“Every night.” I shook my head and gave a derisive snort. She was off her head. I had a multi-million-pound business to run.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes. “I thought we’d agreed that you, the great Victor…” She drew a circle in the air, as though reeling my surname from my mouth.

“Partridge.” I offered my surname, for the third time, a little grudgingly.

“That you, Victor Partridge, need a teacher?”

“Well, you seemed to decide that I need one and that you were qualified for the job.” I walked to the door and reached for the handle.

Suddenly she was behind me, pushing insistently and moving me forward. Before I could react, I was pressed to the door, pinned in place by her connecting her body with as much of mine as possible. My breath blew out and the tips of my shoes kicked the base with a sharp thud.

“Hey,” I said, shocked at the violent way she’d cornered me and was keeping me prisoner.

The tense peaks of her breasts were slotted against my back, her mound on my right buttock and her knees jutting into mine. If she bent her legs sharply I’d crumble.

A wave of irritation crested then broke through me. The surface of the door was super-cool on my hot cheek. “Hey.”

I went to turn, but she flattened her mouth to my ear, stroked her tongue along the outer crease and then inside the hole. Her breaths were as loud as a storm, and a moist heat filtered down my neck. For a moment the sensation was disorientating and I reached for the doorframe, needing something to hold on to.

“Shh,” she said. “Just give it up, will you? I thought we’d agreed you’d have a go at switching and not always having your finger on the pulse.”

Great analogy.

“Victor, just surrender to me, for the smallest pocket of time. Be mine, be under my command.” Her voice was like that of a siren, all hypnotic and floaty and the only thing my brain could register. “Relax, breathe deep. You have no responsibility but to give up responsibility. I will care for you. I will take all that weight off your shoulders and carry it for you, nothing can hurt you here.”

She rested her hands over mine, interlocking our fingers as she wriggled them and then leaned even closer into me.

I wondered if people in the main room could see us like this. What they’d think of Zara hemming me in. Preventing me from leaving and me letting her have her way. Oh, I knew I was stronger than her, my brawn no match for her petite stature, and I could escape with one lunge if I threw my full body weight into it. No doubt send her sprawling in the process. But I didn’t want that. Because, pressed against the door, bending to her will, I noticed that the fluttering in my chest was easing.

“Good boy,” she said, her lips tracing the shell of my ear, her teeth just grazing the fleshy lobe. “That’s it, relax. I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about, you’re safe with me.”