Sexy as Hell Box Set (12 page)

I built the speed to a gentle tempo, quality not quantity. Each time I reached the hilt I shifted my pelvis, catching her clit and extracting a moan from her which I caught in my mouth.

Soon the pressure became too much; my cock was bursting for release.

“Please, come with me,” I managed and stared down at her flushed face.

“Yes, oh, yes, like that.”

She gripped my arse cheeks, canted her hips, and shut her eyes. Her chest swelled closer to mine, and I gave three fast, wild thrusts.

She
spasmed around my dick, clung to me and panted through an orgasm. I freed mine, coming hard and fast into the condom and liberating all the pent-up desires of the last few days.

Coming inside Zara was glorious. Her pussy hugged my erection, drawing it higher, deeper, the spilling of my seed in her something I would never forget. A moment I’d be searching for again.

I buried my head in the pillow. Her breaths were loud in my ear, our bodies sweat-laced. We were panting against each other.

“So that was making love?” she whispered, brushing her fingers through my hair and pulling in a deep breath.

I raised my head, grinned. “Did it work for you?” I knew damn well it had. Her pussy was still pulsing through aftershocks.

She touched her lips to my nose. “I was curious to know what making love entailed,” she said. “And I liked it with you, Victor, very much, but…”

I was silent. How the hell could there be a but?

“But,” she said, “over the next few weeks I’m going to teach you how to fuck.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Fuck? What the hell had we just done? I’d just
fucked
her to one hell of an orgasm.

“The time has come,” she said, “to stop making love, Victor. Now you must learn how to fuck and, more importantly, how to
be
fucked.”

It seemed Victor’s
making love
was as vanilla as the ingredients stocked in his kitchen. All my life I’d only ever fucked, so his evening of pseudo-romance and tenderness towards me had come as a bit of an eye opener. It had been so different from what I was used to that at first it had seemed alien in the extreme. There had been no power play, no franticness about it, just…lovely. And that was the perfect description for it, once I’d got used to it, that was.

I’d felt safe and cherished, beautiful and the only woman he ever wanted to be with. He’d had eyes only for me and had thought of everything to make our meal something straight from a slushy movie. But I hadn’t asked for that and
didn’t
want those soppy things—candles and small talk, great views and warm fires—so whatever he’d made me feel at the time would be a one-off. I’d ticked a box, but that flavour wasn’t for me.

It was his word choice that kept swirling around my mind when I arrived home a little after midnight. Didn’t you use the term “making love” when someone cared about you, or had I got the wrong end of the stick? Surely he didn’t care, and if he did, then more fool him. I had other fish to fry, other men to lure into my web, and I didn’t intend making love to anyone else for the rest of my life—unless, of course, Victor wanted to again at some point during our month, then I suppose I could agree if he insisted. Just to keep him happy.

But there would be no mushy relationships in my future. Making love was just another string to my bow, another trick I had up my sleeve now. If I could learn something from my student during our time together, then so be it. I was always happy to keep on studying my trade.

Victor would make a good husband, though, and whoever eventually snagged him would be one lucky duck. I mean, the man could cook, for God’s sake. He’d let me sit opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows while we’d eaten so I could see the London lights. How many men would be that charming, that thoughtful?

But I didn’t want it, none of it. Charming and thoughtful led to dangerous emotions, something I’d managed to steer clear of so far. I wondered whether I was abnormal, not wanting a house, marriage and two-point-four children, a dog and maybe even a cat. Hell, I might as well add a fish to the list and maybe a lizard in a glass aquarium. Besides, I didn’t think Victor would want children or pets messing up his perfect home. His perfect life.

And what had Victor got to do with that scenario anyway?

After a deep and satisfied sleep I found myself wide awake, showered and dressed by nine. I had to fill my day doing something—anything—to get Victor off my mind. Thoughts of him were starting to encroach a little too often for my liking. But then I’d never had such a long fling before. Mainly one-night stands or meeting up with a man for more fucking a week or two after the first time. That had been about my limit in the past, and I hadn’t given a shit what those men had done or where they’d gone after I was finished with them. Strange then, how I’d been so quick to suggest a month-long adventure. I should have known the whole idea would lead to…to what?

It was leading to nothing, nowhere.

I grabbed my handbag and jacket and left my place, thinking a couple of hours browsing the shops might be the order of the day. I could do with buying myself a treat, something I hadn’t done in ages, although there was nothing I really wanted or needed. Perhaps I’d get lunch out too. I fancied pasta again, in a creamy sauce. Whether or not I’d be able to find it as well-made as Victor’s, I wasn’t so sure.

I drove into the city then found myself veering towards Eden Street, out of habit or a deep-seated need to be with people of like mind I didn’t know. I parked around the back and made my way to the front door, pleased that Fifi answered and let me in. A half hour of nattering before I hit the High Street would suit me just fine.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sliding into a seat behind the reception desk and inspecting her acrylic nails, the beds natural, the tips a shocking bright pink.

“I have no idea,” I said and realised, with shock, that I didn’t. Why did I need to have a gossip with my girlfriends? I was self-sufficient, independent, wasn’t I?

Suddenly I felt bound to this place, chained, only allowed out with an invisible length of elastic tethered to my waist, which pinged me back when I strayed too far. It was my fault, that I’d made work a large part of my life and had forgotten to live my private time without strains of my work seeping into it. This was where all my friends were, and when I wasn’t at work, working, or hanging out I was trawling the city for sex, wanting to push men’s boundaries, needing to see them wither under my control much as they did when in the viewing rooms. Was that what I really wanted? This total dominance and search for obedience? Did that fulfil me absolutely?

Of course it did, otherwise I wouldn’t still be doing it. Wouldn’t be here now.

I smiled and gave a half shrug. “I got bored, thought I’d come in for a chat.”

Like a flash of an image, I wondered what it would be like to be bored in Victor’s apartment, alone, waiting for him to come home from his snazzy office. Perhaps I’d draw myself a deep bubble bath and sink to my neck in fluffy vanilla froth or lounge on his sofa and read. Maybe I’d be brazen and root through his cupboards and drawers or even make
him
dinner. He liked Italian, so perhaps lasagne, bread with chopped olives, sun-dried tomatoes and anchovies in oil. Not that I was much of a chef, but hey, how hard could it be?

“No virgin in tow?”
Fifi asked, glancing up briefly then returning her attention to her talons.

“No, why would he be?” Annoyance began a slow burn inside me. It wasn’t like we were a goddamn item or anything.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there’s talk around here that you’re seeing more of him than your usual fuck-and-run episodes.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a nail file, busying herself creating a sharp point on the end of one fingernail.

“Talk?” I asked, frowning. “There’s always talk in here. Why should the subject of my life be left out of the gossip mill?”

I’d sounded mean and spiteful, and I had no right to be. I’d gossiped with the best of them, before and after work, and, much as I hated to admit it, via texts and phone calls too. If anything remotely juicy occurred, whoever wasn’t involved would nag about it until the cows came home. Now it was apparently my turn to be discussed. Well, I had it coming to me. It had to happen sooner or later, and it may as well be about someone as harmless and passive as Victor.

“Touchy,”
Fifi said, giving her nail a vigorous rasp with the file. A shower of fine dust fell down onto her thigh. “Must mean there’s something to what I said.”

“What? Of course there isn’t. I told you, we had a bet, one that just happens to be lasting a month. There’s nothing to discuss or be dissected. I’m showing him my side of life, that’s all. Trying to open his eyes so he doesn’t go and marry some sweet vanilla girl and then do nothing but shag missionary for all eternity.”

She glanced up, cocking her eyebrows. “And is he showing you
his
side of life?”

I was about to protest, to let a string of denials spew out of my mouth but realised I couldn’t do so with any truth. He
had
shown me a side of his life. A very sweet and tender side.

“I’ve had dinner at his place, yes, and I told you that last night before I went, but that was just a precursor to us…going to bed together. No different to if we’d eaten out.” My face was growing hot and I hated it. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words ‘making love’. Shit, that would finish
Fifi off. The rumours would be like wildfire spreading through a hot, dry bush. I could almost hear hers and the others’ cackles of ridicule already.

“So you tend to eat out with the men you go to bed with, then?” She used her fingers to make quote marks around the last part of the sentence.

“No I bloody don’t, unless it’s a Danish at the coffee shop, but this experience
will
be different because it’s so long. But there’s nothing going on between us. He’s not exactly my type, is he?”

Fifi
shrugged. “I don’t know what your type is, Zara, and neither would you if it fell out of the sky and landed on you.” She held up her hand and inspected the nail she’d managed to hone into a nasty-looking spike.

“I’m going to
fall out
with you in a minute if you keep on,” I said, keeping my tone light to let her know I didn’t mean it. But maybe I did, a little. Why was she prodding my nerves like this?

“What, and risk losing the chance to lick my sexy little cunt?” She began on another nail, totally at ease with what she’d said, as though it had been nothing.

Her nonchalance reminded me of myself.

“I’d never risk that, for anything or anyone,” I said, smiling harder and wondering why it felt so fake. I’d meant what I’d said about Victor, hadn’t I? So I didn’t dwell on that further, I went on brightly, “Well, seeing as my life is so fascinating, I’ll leave you to enjoy picking it apart with the next person who comes through the door. I’m off for some retail therapy.”

“Yep, you have fun, see you later. Don’t spend all your tips in one go.”

I left with a small wave and got back into my car. Instead of firing the engine right away as I usually did—always going at breakneck speed, always in a rush to do everything at once—I sat and stared through the windshield. Yes, I knew how things worked at the club, how everyone discussed everyone else, but until now, I hadn’t thought it had applied to me. Mind you, there had never been anything for anyone to discuss before. ‘That man’ had been well off the scene before I’d started working here.

“And there isn’t anyone for them to discuss now, damn it!”

I whacked the heel of my hand onto the steering wheel. The horn blared, making me jump, and I frowned at why I was so bothered by all this. Who cared what people thought? I certainly hadn’t in the past, yet now it bugged the shit out of me and I was at a loss as to understand why. Unless it was because people were jumping to the wrong conclusions. What if they’d been taking bets—wouldn’t surprise me—on whether I’d see Victor again after our game was over? What if they thought… Oh, they didn’t, did they?

I was being ridiculously paranoid and overly sensitive. Not like me at all.

I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to see sense and look at this from my work colleagues’ perspectives. How would I view my situation, from the outside in? A woman who usually played around, lurching from one-night stands to one-hour rendezvous, suddenly seeing a man for a whole month. I nodded, acknowledging that yes, it was cause for a bit of debate, and admittedly, not everyone at work knew what I was playing at with Victor, that we had a deal and I’d promised him an education. But I’d have to put them all right as soon as I could. That should stop the tittle tattle. Easy, a few words, that was all.

I started the car and headed to my initial destination, wishing I’d gone there in the first place and hadn’t been made privy to what had been happening behind my back. I parked up, got a ticket, stuck it on the inside of my windshield then stalked off into a shopping precinct. Everywhere I looked were couples—foolish, in-love couples—who walked about arm in arm, laughing, stealing little kisses when they didn’t think anyone was watching. I sighed at their stupidity in thinking one person would be enough for the rest of their lives then decided I’d let that particular nugget fill my thoughts for far too long.