“Your flat?”
“My apartment.”
She hits me gently, but a flash of real hurt flickers across her face. Just for a second, and then it’s gone. “I know what it means. Why do you have a flat in England?”
I rub my thumb over her cheek. “I lived there for two years. I thought it made more sense to buy a place than rent—turns out, that only makes sense to Americans. Their real estate system is a bit fucked up, and now I’m stuck with this place because I can’t seem to sell it. My cousin stays there often, so it’s not vacant, but she’s also just as agreeable to not stay there should I need it for anything.”
“You’ve got a cousin in England?”
I’ve got an entire English family, but I don’t need to give her a genealogy chart. “Yeah.”
“And do you…” She licks her lips, distracting me from the conversation, and I lower my head, tasting the wet trail she’s just blazed. Her lip is soft and plump, and I pull it into my mouth. She groans and arches beneath me, but then she pulls away. “Stop it.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to, either, so maybe I’m not trying hard enough, but you drive me crazy.” I wrap my arms around her and roll onto my back.
Now she’s on top. She’s in control, and she wants to talk, she just needs to stay out of biting range.
“What was your question?”
She perches on my abs, her knees tucked together, her honey-brown waves spilling over her shoulders and hiding her breasts. Lady Godiva had nothing on Ali.
Innocent. Smart. Sexy as fuck.
And full of will-power and questions.
“Do you need it for anything?” She crosses her arms and gives me a stern look from on high.
“Next week I’m going to need it so we can play English Lord and his naughty maid.”
She sticks out her tongue, then drops her hands to my chest. “More like…a proper young lady and the naughty butler.”
Jesus. Yes. “Whatever you want.”
“Okay. But I really need to work, so only a little bit of play.”
I tug her down so I can kiss her. “I love how smart you are. My sexy fucking brainiac.”
“Yeah?” She rubs her breasts against my chest and I groan. “Sexy?”
“Unbelievably sexy. When you take over the world, I want a full time job as your gigolo.”
“You’re hired,” she whispers, raising herself up just high enough to capture my cock between her legs, the red, swollen head pointed toward me. She starts a slow, wet grind up and down my length. She likes this just as much as fucking.
“You want to see me come all over my stomach?”
She grins and nods.
“Such a cumslut.”
A mock gasp turns her lips into a perfect O.
“Too dirty?”
“Hardly. Give it to me, old man. Come for me.”
I’ve created a beautiful monster. I tip my head back and give in to the hot, slippery sensations as she demands and gets my release.
BOOTY CALL
part three
LONDON
—twenty-one—
MAY
Alison
Paris was a non-stop sexfest. So I should be sore as we take the Eurostar train to London.
I am sore, and I’ve already told Scott that, but he’s still worked his hand up my skirt and has me rocking against his fingers anyway.
I wasn’t too sore. That’s why I wore a skirt, after all.
“I love your pussy,” he murmurs in my ear. “It’s fucking juicy.”
I blush.
“And I love that you get embarrassed about that.”
“Just by the words,” I mutter.
“And it makes you gush at the same time. Dirty girl.”
My nipples tighten. How long until we get to his place? I thunk my head back against the seat and the guy behind us clears his throat. Damn it.
“Can’t move,” Scott whispers. “Still want my fingers?”
“Yes,” I breathe back.
“Let’s talk about your delicious pussy for a minute.”
“Oh, God.”
“Have you ever shaved it?”
“No.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“You’d shave this pussy for me?”
I toss my head back and roll my hips, ignoring his instruction not to move. Fuck him. I want to come. “I’d shave it for me and let you enjoy it as a side benefit.”
He laughs, but he tightens his arm. “And if I wanted you to shave it for me? Would you do that?”
Yes. In a heart beat. I swallow hard. “Maybe you should do it yourself. Make sure I’m completely smooth…”
I stretch the word out until it fades into a slow, hungry breath between us as I watch his face. He’s curved around my body, blocking me from sight. I slide my hand between us and squeeze his cock. Two of us can play this torture game.
Except as soon as I start, he stops.
I pout.
He laughs. “Leave my dick alone and you can come,” he whispers.
The blush crawls down my chest, towards my aching breasts, and I let him go.
“Good. When I get you to my place, I’m going to do just that, you know. I’m going to spread you out on my vanity and shave you bare. And then I’m going to lick you until you come on my face.”
Scott loves going down on me. And I love it, too, but good Lord, can anyone hear him? I close my eyes as he slides two fingers deep inside me. He doesn’t fuck them in and out of me. Instead he finds my G-spot and presses there, pulsing a bit as his thumb starts to work my clit.
“Did you know that the G-spot is the back of the clit?” he asks, quiet as a mouse. I swallow a moan and shake my head. He makes a tutting sound with his tongue. “And you’re such a smart girl. What are they teaching you at Georgetown?”
“Not that,” I pant.
He presses his fingers apart, intensifying the feeling. “It’s true. After I shave you, I’ll do this again. Give you a thorough anatomy lesson.”
“Awesome,” I say, and he leans in closer, covering my lips with a soft, gentle kiss.
Then he flicks my clit, hard, with his thumb.
I moan and he swallows my cry. He does it again and I jerk. A third time pushes me over the cliff, sending me spiraling into a free-falling climax.
Twenty seconds later, the railway equivalent of a stewardess comes by and offers us warm towels for our hands. Scott takes them both with a straight face while I reconsider my question about sex killing me.
“You’re so gorgeous when you come,” he whispers as he hands over a towel.
Yes, definitely dying.
—twenty-two—
Scott
“You have…oh my God, look at that tub!”
It amuses me that a woman raised in the lap of luxury is impressed by the claw foot bathtub in my London flat. “It’s deep,” I murmur, enjoying the swell of her ass as she braces her hands on the edge of it and leans over, stroking the far side.
“You can’t really buy tubs like this. I had a fancy soaker at my parents’ estate, but nothing this legit. Holy crap.” She groans as she straightens up. “I will be thinking about this tub all day.”
“Not me?” I smirk at her as she turns around.
“Not hardly. You, I have at my beck and call back home. This tub… my affair with this tub is going to be a limited-time event.”
And we aren’t? But I know better than to ask her that. Because we are, one way or another, although we both want to push the inevitable end out as far as possible. And not asking questions like that is part of the dance.
We’re not going to talk about what we aren’t, what we can’t be, because it’s a given.
But what we can be… “I’ll run a bath,” I hear myself saying. “And move my meetings to tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says, but her eyes light up like it’s Christmas.
And it’s not silly. “When was the last time you had an entire day to yourself? No school work, no obligations?”
She presses her lips together. I suddenly realize the answer is her birthday weekend in New York, and I fucked that up for her, didn’t I?
I pull my phone from my pocket and fire off a text message to my brother, who is at the Mayfair Enterprises offices here.
S: Just landed at Gatwick. Delays and now rush hour. Meet tomorrow?
It’s not really a question, but I’m being courteous.
J: Fine. Swamped anyway.
I grin. “Out of the way, babe. I’ve got a tub to fill for you.” I press up against her as she stands up and brush her hair to one side. I lower my lips to her ear. “I’ve got a fresh razor in the closet in the hallway. Go and fetch it like a good girl.”
She shudders and I lazily spank her bottom. She presses against my palm.
While she’s gone, I get naked and start to fill the tub. I add bubbles, which she squeals over when she comes back. I get in first, and she joins me, settling against my front, giving me free range to play with her boobs, which look amazing floating on top of the bubbles. She protests half-heartedly when I slide my hands lower and cup her pussy.
“Gentle,” she reminds me.
My dick flexes at the memory of how many times we’ve fucked already this trip.
“I’ll be good to her,” I promise. “Super gentle.”
She spreads her legs for me. I can’t stop touching her, and not just her pussy. Every inch of her body is perfect to me, from her heavy breasts to her tight ass, and all the curves and long, lean limbs around them. She reaches back and tucks her hands behind my neck, arching her back.