At Her Command (Fantasy Heights) (2 page)

He came forever. On and on, time after time, his body convulsed. His cum shot over her hands as she continued to stroke him, drawing out his pleasure.

When he relaxed once more, she knew she had only a short time to make her exit. Thomas had coached her never to linger. The quicker she left, the more likely a client was to rebook and Thomas, being as frank as he was experienced, had warned her about the chemical chaos stirred up on set. It was bad news to let it linger, unrelieved. She would need to take care of the problem right away. She withdrew from Neil to fumble with the harness until she had removed the external dildo.

Still wearing the internal version, she addressed her guards. “Take him away. Perhaps next time he will hear reason.”

Her pussy aching for release now, she climbed the throne steps and passed into a narrow hallway. There, she took a quick right and stepped into the Moroccan-themed room where last time she and Neil had sated each other’s needs.

This time, Thomas awaited her. He was half-dressed in black silk pajama bottoms that hung low on narrow hips. Working together so much, she’d come to know his body nearly as well as her own. Not for the first time, her eyes strayed to the faint smudges of scar tissue marring his left side. The imperfection was barely noticeable, but unless she was very much mistaken, rather a lot of plastic surgery had been required to make it that way.

As always happened lately, any thought about Thomas’s past came equipped with a worry chaser. She wished she had never overheard that argument between him and Steph.
Back in my old life,
he had said. Apart from the concern over the argument itself was the anxiety over what Thomas’s old life might have been, and who Thomas might yet turn out to be.

She was curious what had happened to him. Not curious enough to risk asking about the scars, and at the moment, she couldn’t care less. He had prepared for her, it seemed. He pulled her inside the room, closed the door and backed her against it.

Thomas hooked a hand behind her right knee, lifting it up and out. With his other hand, he pressed a bullet vibrator to her clit. The strap-on dildo was still inside and, coupled with the vibration, sent her reeling. Thomas made her come so hard her other leg buckled, and he had to hold her upright.

He laughed silently against her, his smiling mouth pressed into her neck. His policy to always relieve the chemical cocktails seemed a glorious idea. Especially when he helped.

“God, am I a master trainer or what?” he asked, still laughing.

She so rarely heard him laugh that it caught her off guard, and made her reluctant to speak. This was a Thomas she rarely got to see. He kept boundaries between his work and personal life, constructing and enforcing a strict divide between the two. He himself did not fraternize after hours, and she could easily see the wisdom in that. Right now, it was easier than ever.

Careful of her tone, she commented on the vivid, heated stain darkening his skin. “Do you need me to get you off?”

“Better not. I’ve got a gig in half an hour.” He pulled the harness off and slowly drew out the dildo.

She mewed, pleased, yet missing the closeness at once. Then she smirked at Thomas. The way he held the toy made him look as if he meant to do battle. She took it away from him, and after setting it on a receiving table, she wriggled until he lowered her leg. “Thank you. That’s much better.”

“Good.” He looked at her for a long moment, then sobered. A crease of worry snaked across his brow. “One question. I checked this morning, and I can’t see that you’ve booked any more personal fantasies. You’re not getting bored already, are you?”

“Bored? Not hardly. I just haven’t booked because between you and your clients, and all the new things you have me try, the job’s outstripping my imagination.”

He looked dubious for a moment, but let it go. “All right, then. Next question. Did you make up your mind yet about the wedding?”

What in the world? How had he found out about that? She’d been jilted two weeks before she’d come here, and the first piece of mail she’d received at her new address had been an invitation to her ex-fiancé and stepsister’s wedding. “Is there anything Steph doesn’t tell you?”

“Don’t get all huffy. I bitched to Steph because you’d asked that weekend off, and I wanted you in the cast for something. Then she said she wasn’t sure if you were really going or not. I bullied the rest out of her.”

“You? A bully? I would never have guessed.”

“Stop it. I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“That much I understand. What I don’t understand is why. You’re the one who says to leave the job behind us after hours. Bringing it outside, and getting personal gets too confusing.”

He shook his head. “This is different. It took some kind of terroristic balls for them to send that invitation. You can’t let them get away with it.”

“I don’t see things quite that way,” she said. “It would have been just as tasteless not to invite me.”

“Whatever. You gotta go, at least to the ceremony. Hell, take both Josh and me. That would get them to wondering.”

He knew Josh? A laugh bubbled up at the thought of those two in the same place, at the same time. “Darn right it would. Show up with the two prettiest men in the state.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m way prettier than Josh. He’s not even in the top thirty.”

“And you’re modest, too.” She almost hugged him for lowering his barriers long enough to show he really did care about her, despite his many rules. “I don’t know, Thomas. It’s a very generous offer, and I’ll think about it. I don’t have to RSVP for a few days yet.”

He left then, and she laughed again at what her parents and uptight friends back home would think if she showed up with those two. There was overcompensating, and then there was overcompensating.

She was thinking about it again later that day while weeding the small flowerbed in front of her townhouse. It was evening, and though still warm, the sun felt gentle on her back. The sound of footfalls brought her head around and there was Thomas again, running. He ran past here at least once every day, in the morning. Sometimes again in the evening. It explained, of course, how he stayed in such delicious shape. It did not, however, explain why he watched the house on the next block so closely. Every time he passed, his eyes would steal to the front windows. Sometimes he would jog up the front walk and knock on the door, and either a pretty blond woman or teenaged boy would let him in.

Girlfriend, she figured. Someone close to him, at least.

Tonight, Amanda raised a hand in greeting. He nodded in return but kept on going. When he came level with the girlfriend’s house, he glanced at it, but didn’t stop there, either.

Off he went, and she decided right then to decline his wedding-guest offer. It was very kind of him to break his own rules to spare her feelings, but if she were his girlfriend, she’d feel weird about him escorting another woman to a wedding. Besides. Leaving the job behind after hours was important to him, and was becoming equally important to her. Why make things awkward for everyone solely to cushion her ego from this stupid wedding?

It wasn’t worth the risk. She’d manage on her own somehow.

She was about to go inside and hunt down that RSVP card when a new arrival at the house on the next block caught her attention. A silver SUV had pulled up to the house, and yet another Fantasy Heights performer put in an appearance. Corset, known to the rest of the world as Marla, got out of the truck and headed up the walk where Thomas had just passed. The door opened before Marla reached the patio steps. The blonde stepped into view, put her arms around Marla and kissed her full on the mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Amanda muttered.

She wished she hadn’t seen that. If Thomas was indeed involved with that woman down the street, then he had a problem. And she couldn’t tell him without intruding upon something that was absolutely none of her business.

The unwanted knowledge weighed heavily like a mental hot potato until the next day’s assignment gave her something new to worry about. She had never done a solo run with a woman before, and this client was a high priority first-timer. Amanda felt very uneasy. Steph, one of the resort’s owners, had shown an awful lot of faith in her, assigning her this role. What if she failed as a seductress? What if the client didn’t find her attractive or believable enough?

By the time she finished in wardrobe, the nerves were a little more manageable. Kara, the wardrobe director, seemed to like her best as the dark-side version of Veronica Lake. Her hair hung loose in sleek black waves, and the black-orchid satin dress rippled sensually against her skin as she walked to the Palace, home to the five-star client rooms. The client wished to remain as private as possible for the duration of her stay, so the two of them would enjoy each other in the confinement of a suite. Josh would serve as observer during her part of the woman’s sexual adventures, though he would have to station himself outside in the hallway. Totally alone and private, she and the client, Emily, would have twenty minutes together. The onus was on Amanda to seduce and satisfy within that limited timeframe.

Reaching the suite, she spotted Josh down the hall, standing by a window, talking on his cellphone. The moment he saw her, his dark brown eyes lit up with a warm but rueful greeting. He was here in body, but his contracting company still laid claim to the rest of him. He wasn’t even in his highwayman uniform. Fresh off a jobsite, he wore jeans and a blue polo shirt.

At least he was here, she thought. She always felt more secure, not to mention turned on, knowing Josh was watching over her. She hurried over to him. After a quick and silent nibble at his neck, she left him to his phone call and doubled back to knock on the suite door, her heart pounding ten times louder.

The client didn’t take long to answer. In her early thirties, just over five feet tall with sandy brown hair and a narrow, pretty face, she had dressed in a simple cream silk sleeveless blouse and gauzy gypsy skirt.

Amanda hoped none of her surprise showed on her features. Coming from a banking background, she recognized the client as the wife of an extremely influential man. The client—whose name was definitely not Emily—herself wielded immense social power. Amanda could easily understand why the woman would turn to someone like Steph to have cravings satisfied. A woman in her position couldn’t afford to take any sexual risks in the outside world.

The client stood uncertainly, looking pale and a bit green with nerves. This was a critical moment. This would be the moment when the client would start to panic, wondering what sort of heathen they must be to indulge in reckless fantasies.

Amanda was the first in what would be a three-day chain of experiences for the client. Her job was to get the client past this moment of disbelief and get them excited that their fantasy was about to play out. Make it happen in a relentless, inescapable onslaught of sexual certainty. She produced her best demure smile. “I’m Amanda. May I come in?”

The client blushed, blinking rapidly but stepping back, opening the door to let her pass. “Yes, of course. Do come in.”

Amanda clasped her hands behind her back and entered the suite. This one had a vaguely Venetian feel with marble floors, vaulted ceilings and tall paned windows shrouded in sheer drapes. A wide chaise lounge sat in the center of the sitting room area. Beside it waited the ever-present chest of toys. Nearby sat a table with two chairs and a champagne stand.

A slow thrum of heat began to stir at the thought of what it would be like in this room with two people sitting at that table watching others fuck on the chaise. What a pity she and her client would have to keep things private tonight.

After leading the way to the table, Amanda poured out champagne and handed the client a glass. She didn’t speak. Not out loud, at least. She said much with her eyes that made Emily blush to a nice steamy, flustered red.

That’s better, she thought, and breathed out a gentle laugh as the client upended her champagne glass, gulping the contents. Before the liquid courage could quite kick in, Amanda set her own glass down and reached for the top button of the client’s blouse.

The woman stood her ground, though a new flicker of nerves backlit her eyes.

Amanda did not relent. She wanted to see this woman’s breasts, to lick a nipple and see how the older woman responded. Discover what it took to turn her on, to make her pussy slick and hot. Maybe make her beg, but definitely coax out the sexually aggressive creature everyone harbored inside.

The first button went, and then the second. Her client wore no bra underneath the cream silk, and her full breasts were tipped with smallish, peach-toned nipples. Amanda dragged the shirt the rest of the way off, her eyes feasting on lush flesh, enjoying the way the client tried to fold herself inward, as if she could hide such beautiful, sensual femininity.

Amanda ignored the self-conscious moment. Once the shirt was gone, she cupped Emily’s breasts. Those soft peachy nipples didn’t stay soft long. They hardened beneath her thumbs as she rubbed. When she lowered her head to take one into her mouth, Emily inhaled sharply.

It was not a startled sound. It was a sound approaching relief, as if Emily had been waiting a very long time for this moment, and found it every bit as vivid as anticipated.

Amanda opened her mouth to suck more of Emily’s aureole into her mouth. She let her teeth rasp the skin, and applied her tongue to the nipple.

Emily’s response gave her a charge. The client’s hands clenched onto her shoulders, grasping. Wanting. Amanda released one nipple and began on the other, and by the time she’d pulled it into a taut, clenched peak, the client had shed more than her inhibitions. Off came the skirt to reveal more lushly feminine flesh. A small triangle of tawny pubic hair awaited exploration. Knowing the clock was ticking, Amanda guided Emily backward, onto the chaise.

A plan formed in her mind to eat the client’s pussy before teasing her a bit. She would take a time out to dig into the treasure chest for the biggest dildo she could find, and stand over her, lubricating it. She thought about trying a double-ended version to get them both off, but their time was too limited. Besides. Josh was right outside. He, she was sure, would be more than happy to relieve her of any pent-up tension afterward.