Buy Me Sir(72)

I wrap my arms around his shoulders for leverage, and he takes my weight, grinds against me until I’m panting into his mouth, my eyes hazy and unfocused as he urges me faster.

I’m going to come in his arms before he’s even taken his jacket off, and he wants it, I know he wants it.

“Horny girl,” he breathes, and I shudder.

My clit grinds against his thigh. My chest presses to his as I suck his tongue into my mouth.

I lose my mind as I tip over the edge, squirming against him without a scrap of reservation as I moan like the whore I technically am.

And when I stop, he doesn’t. He doesn’t let me go as I breathe ragged breaths into his mouth. He doesn’t let up his grip on my ass as he walks me backwards to the bed and lowers himself on top.

His tie falls between my tits and tickles me. The lapels of his jacket are smooth under my fingers.

“You like the suit,” he comments, and I nod.

“I love the suit,” I tell him, and I guess that’s why he stays in it. I guess that’s why he unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock free with his clothed flesh against my nakedness.

I groan as he pushes inside, but my pussy is ready for him this time. I grunt with discomfort at the stretch, but he’s hard and fast, shunting deep as my thighs part to take him.

“Fuck me,” I hiss.

And he does.

He fucks me so hard I bite his shoulder to quell the grunts, his ear against mine as he takes me. I take his ass in my hands and urge him deeper, even though it fucking hurts, and I can hear the noises my pussy is making, the wet slaps as he pounds my flesh.

“This is insane,” he growls, and it makes me smile.

He has no idea.

“I love it,” I whisper, and he lifts his face to search my eyes.

I hold him, one hand in his hair as my thumb brushes his jaw, and there’s nothing I can do to hide how much I want him. Nothing in the world I could do to play this cool.

So I don’t.

I kiss him. Hard.

He shudders.

I stroke his face and he groans.

I wrap my legs around his waist and roll my hips to take him deeper, and I’m groaning too.

He comes with his forehead pressed to mine.

“Fuck!” he says with a grunt and his eyes closed tight.

He’s tense as he explodes, his whole body taut as his heart races through his shirt.

And then he collapses. I love taking the weight of him, love the way he crushes me into the sheets.

I listen to him breathe, my fingertips teasing the back of his neck as he calms.

When he meets my eyes his are no longer cold.

“I have a gift for you,” he says.



Alexander



I feel completely fucking unhinged as I prise myself from her arms.

I feel like I’ve just been inside Amy’s fucking soul, not just her pussy.

She’s either the best hooker in the world, or the worst – either playing a straight up scam with world-class stealth, or falling in deep with the man who popped her cherry.

I’m not sure which I’m most afraid of, and I’m no longer nervous. I’m fucking petrified.

And yet I can’t fucking stop.

Her smile is gentle. Her fingers brush my arm as she rolls to face me. “A gift?”

She’s still breathless. Her lips are puffy from kissing so hard.

I prop myself on my elbow before I can think better of it, dipping straight into my inside pocket for the fire opal. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of the handkerchief and she gasps when I tumble the gemstone free. It lands on the bed between us, and her fingers dither halfway, her mouth open.

“But this isn’t…” she starts. “This can’t be…”

“A gift,” I tell her, and press it into her open hand. “A lucky stone to replace yours.”

“Fire opal,” she whispers, and my heart starts pounding again. “It’s too much…”

I hate those words.

I hate the way they make me feel.

Over-generous. In too deep.

Rebuked.

Like leaving vintage wine on a kitchen island and finding a thanks but no thanks note when you get home.

“Do you like it?” I ask, and my tone is harsher than I intended. I register the shock on her face.

“It’s beautiful,” she tells me. She runs her thumb over the smooth face, back and forth.

“Don’t offend me. I want you to have it.”

And I do fucking want her to have it.

I want her to carry a piece of me with her, in her handbag, everywhere she goes. I want her to carry that ridiculously priced gem around every day, checking just to make sure it’s still with her.

The likelihood is that it will never stay in her handbag, and I know it. She’ll probably shove it on a windowsill somewhere, maybe in a drawer for safekeeping.

Maybe she’ll even sell it on to a raw stones specialist. Maybe I’ll find it listed at my next specialist auction.