I turn my head and look at him. “I’m not like your usual girls.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know. Look at me.”
“I have been, believe me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, naked, laying out before me, what I would do to you. Fuck, Haisley. Do you not know how beautiful you are?”
“That’s very kind of you to say.”
“It’s very true.”
I search his face to see if he means any of this. But does it really matter? In the end, it’s just nice to hear the words said. It’s convenient that he’s willing to at least pretend that I am worthy of his attentions.
But I know, deep down, there must be some other reason why I am here.
Some other agenda.
It’s not my looks. He paid a hell of a lot of money for secrecy and total control.
But I like that he has all of the control, I suddenly realize. And at the same time, he seems to realize this also, because his hands caress further up my sides and then to my full, sensitive breasts. When he touches them, I moan, my pussy throbbing with desire, and he inhales sharply.
“You’re so responsive,” he mutters. “Christ, you’re so needy, Haisley.”
His fingers find my swollen nipples and he plays with them, lightly at first, and then squeezes them as I moan louder. “Oh, Dermot,” I whisper, experimenting with his name on my lips.
And then he leans in, kisses my neck. A thrill shoots up my spine. His mouth is warm, tongue soft and wet and hot as he tastes my skin. His hips make a slow, sultry circle, cock pressing into my backside as he works my breasts and nipples.
Soon, his hands are under my top, then under my silky bra. When his skin meets mine, I gasp.
I feel myself coming. I’ve never climaxed without touching myself, and even then, it’s never been quick or easy to get myself to that point.
And yet, suddenly here I am, climaxing without even so much as a finger on my pussy.
He has somehow taken me there, or the moment has, the buildup, the tension bursting, and I cry out, and he swears, pushing a hand under my skirt, threading a finger through my panties, so he can feel my pulsing, tight center.
His finger slide across my folds.
“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he says. “I need to fuck you.”
I nod, move away from him, start removing my clothes.
His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. “Haisley.”
“Yes?” I say, as I begin undressing.
“What are you doing?”
“You said you wanted to have sex now.”
“Right. But we’re…that’s just…you know, talking dirty. Setting the stage. I mean, of course I do want to fuck you, but we needn’t just rush things.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I flush and feel tears prick my eyes as my stupidity and cluelessness.
He looks concerned. “What’s going on here?” he says.
“Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s just start again. I’m so…I’m so ready.” My voice shakes, and a tear rolls down my cheek.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” I feel my jaw quiver. “Why are you ruining it?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Dermot responds. “But something is upsetting you and I demand to know what it is. Now tell me.”
I lick my lips, clasp my hands together. I feel myself looking for a way out. Can I just run away? But his gaze holds me firmly in place. And finally, I answer him.
“I’m a virgin,” I admit. “I’ve never done this before. With anyone.”
He stands there, just staring, not saying a word.
But I can see by the look in his eyes.
It’s over. He’s going to send me home with nothing.
THE END OF PART ONE