"Who do you think you are?"
"Benedick Petruska. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
With a heavy sigh, Bryony got off the bed and walked as he instructed, hands on her waist. "Just remember this is one night only. The last time I'll ever obey your commands."
"Not too fast," he exclaimed. "Slow down so I can appreciate every inch."
"For Christ's sake, Petruska." But she was trying not to laugh. He saw the dimple in her cheek. The one on her face.
"Your ass has just the right amount of wiggle," he muttered. "And your breasts have a magnificent bounce. You're a work of art, Mulligan. Everyone at that gallery was looking at the wrong thing tonight."
She laughed. "Thanks. Is this an audition?"
"Sure. Do you want the job?"
"As what? I didn't know you owned any strip joints."
He paused, ringed the base of his erect dick with his fingers and then said, "As my mistress."
She flicked hair out of her face and looked down at him on the bed. "You don't have a wife. How can you have a mistress?"
"I'm married to my work. I want a mistress who'll be at my disposal, so to speak. Who will be mine exclusively and whose only task is to make me happy." He knew he pushed his luck with her, but hey, if he didn't ask he didn't get. And Ben didn't beat around bushes, he plowed through them. "Who won't complain at the hours I put in or the traveling I do. Who won't ever have a headache when I want sex. Who will be ready for me whenever and wherever I want her."
"Keep dreaming, Numbnuts. You were born in the wrong century."
"You asked me. I answered. That's what I want. I'm not sugar-coating a thing."
Turning again, she walked back around his bedroom, a slight sway of her hips telling him she was getting into the role. He stroked his cock, thinking how she felt when he sheathed it deep in her pussy. How she moaned and arched. Her cream was so sweet. He could get addicted, he realized. As he stared at her panties he saw the darkening at the crotch where she was damp. Could be her own juice or his, slipping out of her. His shaft thickened under his palm at the thought of his seed filling her to overflowing. Again, it was a primal urge that made him want to spend deep in her. Over and over.
She'd reprimanded him about the lack of condom, of course, and he had a box in his bedside drawer ready for use. Why he'd forgotten them in this case was obvious. At least to him. When a man suddenly had a dream fuck come true he didn't think about the practicalities or the risks.
And she was ready to shout at him, but where were her logical brain cells earlier?
"Walk over here," he commanded. "Put your heel up on the bed so I can look at your panties."
To his surprise she obeyed. Oh yes, she must be enjoying this game, because Ms. Bryony Mulligan did not follow orders. Generally. That made this night of games doubly enjoyable.
Definitely a darker patch spreading over the pink cotton. Nice.
"Put one hand down your panties and rub your cunt for me."
"Why?"
His throat was tight when he tried to swallow. "Just do it." His gaze fixed on her crotch. "I want to see how wet you are."
Bryony slowly slipped her hand down her belly, taking her time, teasing. He leaned up on one arm for a closer look. Her fingers moved under the lace and he watched as she touched her sex. Her breathing had changed, her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. Ben didn't know how long his cock could wait before claiming that fine pussy again. He was trying his best to be polite about it, but frankly he wanted to fuck her brains out.
"Your nipples are hard under that bra," he observed sternly. "You're very aroused, young lady."
"Yes."
"Did I say you could be?"
"No." Apparently she tried to frown, but must have found it difficult in her current state. Her nipples were dark and distended. Her pussy, he knew instinctively, was ripening. He watched her fingers moving faster under her panties.
He raised his chin and sniffed. "Are you nearly coming again? You're in heat."
She moaned softly, her lips rolling inward, her eyelids half closed.
Ben sat up fast, grabbed her wrist and tugged her hand out of her panties. "No you don't. Not yet."
Her satiny red lips pouted. "Why?" The breathless word shot out of her like a hot spark from a boiling kettle.
"Cos I said so," he replied smoothly. Ben Petruska had mastered women before. He was very much the dominant member of any sexual encounter, but recently it had become dull. No woman was much of a challenge any more.
And then there was this one, appearing back in his life suddenly.
He would master contrary Bryony Mulligan if it was the last thing he did.