Rich Pickings (9 page)

“My apologies, Sir. And I would appreciate it if you could manage to pay attention.”
Who knew I could find it in me to be flippant at a time like this?

Chuckling, he withdraws again, almost pulling right out before he plunges back in, deep and harder now. The sensation is intense, a sweet, ragged friction deep inside, intimate, decadent. Wicked and forbidden and quite, quite breathtaking. A tightness starts to form low down in my body, another orgasm starting to unfurl. My hands form tight, desperate fists as the pleasure grows and warms. My pussy quivers deliciously, and I wish longingly for him to finger fuck me too. That would be so good, so…

“Oh Christ. Sir, I…” My voice trails off as he picks up a rhythm, solid, certain. Deep and penetrating, searching for my response. I give, it. I have no choice, it bursts from me as my body spasms uncontrollably.

Dan leans forward, slips his hands beneath my shoulders and hauls me upright, onto his thighs. I lean back against his chest as he arranges my knees on the outer sides of his own and spreads my legs wide.

“Look.” He whispers the single word into my ear, pointing to the mirror strategically fixed to a wardrobe across the room. I open my eyes and stare transfixed at my image, our image, reflected there. My body is pale in comparison to Dan’s healthy tanned glow, his shoulders visible above and behind me, his legs under mine. But the rest of the tableau is me, just me in nude, aroused glory, my nipples deeply pink and swollen. My stomach is gently rounded, the triangle of pale hair beneath blending subtly with my own creamy skin tones. As I watch Dan lowers his hand to stroke my wispy curls.

“This is lovely, like you, but it has to go. Agreed?”

“Yes.” My answer is a breathy moan as my pussy squeezes and clenches again, desperate to be filled. Dan reaches around to caress my left breast, his right hand sliding between my glistening folds.

“If you were waxed, truly naked for me, we’d be able to see your sweet little clit. Just here, see?” He parts my folds with his fingers to expose the sensitive nub. “So swollen, so hot. Is it throbbing, my gorgeous little slut?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

“Mmm, thought it might be.”

He draws his fingertip slowly along the length of my clit, lightly, barely touching me although it feels like every single nerve ending is reaching out, quivering for him. My mouth is open—I’m panting now, my arousal nearing desperate, explosive proportions.

“Please don’t tease me, Sir. Not now.”

“I guess you’re right. Is this better.” He leans around me to reach just a little more, sufficient to plunge three fingers upwards into my hot, spasming cunt.

I scream, thrusting my hips forward. He keeps the heel of his hand firmly against my clit as I rub myself frantically against him, the muscles in my pussy gripping his fingers. My arse is clenching too, hard and tight like a fist around his solid length. I’m writhing and gyrating like a wild thing, but Dan’s arms and hands remain locked around me, in me, keeping me in place and never letting up until every last quiver and tingle of this latest orgasm is wrung from me. Throughout, Dan’s voice is in my ear, his words soothing and reassuring through the storm of pure sensation which would have been close to overwhelming without him to anchor me.

“Enjoy, love. Let it go. I have you.” I hear him, responding to the soft, safe murmur, emotionally and physically.

He has me. He truly does. And now, I have him. In that moment I know, I’m never letting go.

Chapter Five

“Stick your arm out, I want to test something on you.”

“What?” I glance up from the magazine I am reading, my legs tucked up underneath me on the leather sofa in the living room. My stomach is pleasantly full, courtesy of a selection of delicious Asian tapas-style dishes Dan had sent up from the Kashmiri restaurant and buffet down in the shopping plaza of Clarence Dock. We both agreed we had no wish at all to go to all the bother of getting dressed and eating out, but we were hungry and couldn’t find inspiration in Nathan’s freezer. So Dan phoned the restaurant and asked them to prepare a selection, which arrived beautifully arrayed on a tray made up of separate segmented disposable dishes. We set it up on the low table in the lounge and had a carpet picnic, washed down with sparkling water from Nathan’s fridge dispenser.

I’m wearing just my knickers and a loose shirt, unbuttoned. Dan would have been wearing even less than me but it occurred to him he might spill chili sauce, which could prove unsettling to say the least. Also, he didn’t want to give the young man who delivered our meal any cause to have us struck off their rounds. A decent curry is something of a rarity in Leeds, he tells me seriously. We need to look after this supplier, being so handy as well.

Our meal finished, Dan cleared away the empties, which mostly amounted to piling the whole lot into the waste disposal chute, and set about brewing some coffee. I found a copy of Yorkshire Life in a drawer under the table so I’d been amusing myself leafing through the pictures of manicured terraced gardens and picturesque rural retreats, ponies and croquet lawns, the haunts and pastimes of the county’s elite. Which I suppose probably includes Nathan Darke, though Dan has not struck me as remotely interested in the trappings of wealth. Come to think of it, he and Freya would get on well.

I turn to Dan, wondering what he might have in mind now. He’s already making his way over to me. He has a small porcelain dish in his palm, which he places on the low table beside the sofa.

“Your arm, please. I need to do a patch test.”

“A what?” I’m not sure where this is going, but I have no hesitation in rolling back my long sleeve to present my arm. Dan perches on the edge of the sofa, my elbow across his lap. He dips his finger in the little dish, then daubs whatever it is on the soft skin of my inner arm. I look at it closely. It’s a colorless liquid, oily. As I lean over I catch a whiff of peppermint.

“What is that?”

“Peppermint oil. I want to check that you’re not allergic to it. And get the right dilution for you. Too weak and you’ll miss out on the fizz. Too strong and—well, we just don’t want it too strong, that’s all. If your arm hasn’t swollen and turned black in the next half hour we’ll do another test somewhere more sensitive. Your lips perhaps.”

He leans down to kiss me. I curl my arm around his neck to deepen the kiss when he would have broken it. Entering into the spirit of things and reaching blindly to replace the dish on the table, Dan rolls onto the sofa with me, and soon we’re tangling limbs and tongues, trading sensual caresses.

In no time my shirt is on the floor, Dan’s sweatpants too. I reach for his cock, erect and solid in my hand. I tighten my grip around him, pumping gently. This is the first time I’ve initiated sex with Dan, and it’s a heady experience. I feel powerful, demanding. In control, but not fraught with the usual tension I associate with being responsible. I’m not consumed by a need to steer and keep order, to regulate or contain. I can just be, I can simply enjoy.

Dan rolls onto his back, his hands folded behind his neck. His eyes are closed. I slip from the sofa to kneel on the floor beside him, both my hands wrapped around the shaft of his cock. I take a moment to study it, the round, deep pink head, already glistening with the slick liquid seeping from the slit at the end. I rub the pad of my thumb through it, smearing it all over. His cock jerks in my hand, which I take to be a sign of approval. I do it again, with a similar result. Dan’s eyes remain closed, his expression serene but his lips quirk sexily. He says nothing, but I know. Just as he knows his effect on me, I’m reading his signals.

I lean over, angling his cock toward me with my hands and holding it steady while I draw the tip of my tongue around the swollen, solid head. The liquid there tastes salty. It’s pleasant, delicious even. I return for more, lapping greedily. The savory flavor increases, as more liquid emerges. I run my tongue around the groove where the shaft joins the head, and note that he jerks when I lick the underside.
Yes!

I do it again. And again, pumping slowly with both hands. Dan groans, one arm now flung across his forehead. I speed up, and lean over him to take the entire head of his cock in my mouth. I suck, hollowing my cheeks around him and rubbing the underside of his cock with my tongue. His other hand is now in my hair, tangling it, gripping a fistful. He holds my head still for a moment, thrusting his hips to push his cock toward the back of my throat. I gag, unused to this, and he releases my hair instantly. His hips are still, but knowing what he wants I take over, my head now bobbing rhythmically as I continue to run my hand up and down the shaft. With my other hand I reach between his legs for his balls. I squeeze them experimentally, much less certain of my reception here. James always said I was too rough…

Dan is seemingly made of sterner stuff. His muttered “Christ, yes. Holy fuck!” seems pretty conclusive to me, and I roll the solid orbs firmly, loving the way they seem to shift and move in their sac. I curl my fingers to run my nails over his scrotum, which also seems to go down well. His legs part to allow me better access, so I slide my hand farther still, along his perineum, right to his arsehole. Two can play these games, perhaps. And often do.

I circle his anus with my finger, wondering what he’d do if I…

“You’ll need lube. In the bedside drawer.”

I need no more encouragement. With a whispered instruction not to move, I leap up and run across the room. I grab the tube from the drawer then sprint back, squirting it onto my finger as I go. In moments I’m back where I was, sucking greedily on his cock, sliding my fist up and sown the shaft, and testing his arsehole with one well slicked finger.

I meet nothing that could be even remotely described as resistance. Has he done this before? He must have. He likes it, he knew he would. I’m careful even so. He might know what he’s doing but I don’t. I’m glad I have fairly short nails, and he probably is too. I apply a slight pressure, my finger goes deeper. I press again, and sink a little deeper in. Dan groans, louder this time, lifting his hips, pressing against my hand. He wants more. I twist my hand slightly and push harder. The rest of my finger slips in.

I have to check, must ask. “Is this okay, Sir?”

“Fucking perfect.” His reply is succinct, but leaves no room for doubt.

I withdraw my finger halfway then plunge it back. He grimace speaks of pleasure, appreciation and a growing satisfaction. My confidence is building fast, I don’t feel a need to watch his face so intently now. My attention is back on his magnificent cock which is jerking furiously in my mouth. I suck it, lick it, flick it with my tongue, graze it with my teeth. All of this is punctuated by moans of male delight and approval. I thrust my finger in and out of his arse, consider adding a second one but decide not to push my luck. I’ll ask him about that. Later. For now, I’m intent on bringing him to a climax. I owe him so many, though I doubt either of us has kept count.

My head and shoulders are moving evenly, my rhythm smooth and in time with the actions of my hands. I bring my fist up the shaft as my head goes down, and pull back down toward the base as I lift up, I maintain the suction, using my tongue and teeth to tease the wide, smooth head. I’m rewarded by spurts of more salty liquid, and Dan’s hips thrust violently upwards. My finger in his arse is plunging deep, each stroke eliciting a groan of sheer pleasure.

Dan’s climax is building fast, and I wonder if I should slow down, try to prolong this. As though linked telepathically he mutters to me not to stop. “Christ, Summer… For fuck’s sake—harder. More, girl.”

I do as he asked, finding an extra gear for my aching wrists and stiffening shoulders. With a hoarse shout he comes, his semen bursting from his cock and filling my mouth. I swallow, fast, clear my airway, never letting up the pressure. The semen continues to flow, splashing across my tongue to be swallowed hungrily. Only when the eruption finally slows and his frantic jerking ceases do I allow myself to slow down.

I pull my finger slowly from his arse, lift my head to release his cock. He looks exhausted, and I feel drained too. I’ve never done anything like that before, hadn’t known my power to affect him. This is heady stuff. Still holding his cock in my hand, but loosely now, I lay my forehead on his stomach. He reaches for me, his fingers again in my hair, stroking and combing. I turn my head to look at him, my cheek now pressed against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, rapid but slowing, vigorous, healthy. Totally alive.

“Fuck me, Summer. You learn fast.” He hasn’t opened his eyes. His voice is low, sexy, warm.

I lay a kiss on his flat nipple before answering, “Thank you, Sir. Would you like me to fuck you now, or would you prefer to wait for a short while?” I caress his softening cock, schooling my features so as not to smile, even though he’s not actually looking at me. You never know.

“Have a care, girl. I have a near uncontrollable urge to spank you. Can’t think what’s causing it. Go and wash your hands while I consider the matter.”

There, I knew it.

“Would that be a punishment spanking, Sir?” I try for a guileless tone, but may not succeed, as I scramble to my feet. I stroll across to the kitchen area and rinse my hands under the warm tap, squeezing a blob of washing-up liquid into my palm for good measure.

“That’s not my plan just at the moment, but carry on with the attitude and it will be.”

I glance over my shoulder as I dry my hands to see that his eyes are still closed. He pauses, his expression now thoughtful, even though he has yet to prise open his eyelids. Then, “Oh fuck, just the thought of spanking you has set me off. Get back over here. Fast.”

He sits up suddenly, swinging around to put his feet on the floor. I know better than to hang about, I’m back by his side in a moment.

“Assume the position, girl.” He pats his knee, his gaze warm but stern.

His Dom attitude is emerging fast, and my inner submissive is suitably impressed. My pussy is clenching, moistening as I drop down to kneel at his feet. I look up at him, his beautiful dark brown eyes hot and sexy and absolutely uncompromising. This is happening, and it’s going to be good. Not punishment he said. So that leaves…