S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

“Undo my pants, Cassie.”

Something inside me melted, and I reached down and unfastened his belt. He shuffled his pants to the floor. He was hard and big. And thick.

“Jesus,” I whispered, wrapping my hands around him, feeling his soft skin. How could he be so … hard and so soft at the same time?

“Now lean in and kiss the tip,” he said. “That’s it, go slow at first. Like that, yeah. Kiss it. That’s right.”

I took him in my mouth and licked from the top to the base of his shaft, feeling his body rock as my mouth and hands developed a steady rhythm.

“That’s right, just a little faster.”

I quickened the pace as he gently moved one of my hands around him and left it there. I took him deep into my mouth even as my other hand reached under him.

“Yeah,” he said, moving his fingers tenderly through my hair. “You got it. That’s right.”

My hands met my lips and I formed a vacuum around him, my whole mouth consuming him. I released him then, licking just his tip with the end of my tongue. He looked down at me as I looked up, and our eyes met. His face was blissful and relaxed, which sent a surge of power through my body. I had him. He was mine. I took him in my mouth again, sucking and pulling him into me, and felt a vibration in his pelvis. This made me even bolder, and I took more of him in my mouth. I could feel him pressing into me, yet at the same time, I felt him weakening, melting. I was doing this to him. I was in control, in charge. Any minute now, I was going to make this man come … in my mouth.

“Girl, you don’t need my help.”

The more I pleased him, the wetter I seemed to get, something that had never happened to me before. Why had I once seen this as a chore? My hand reached around behind him to clutch at his back, while my mouth pulled him deeper and deeper. Then, reading his body, I felt him hitting a tipping point and I slowed my rhythm.

“Ah, yeah, it’s perfect. Don’t stop!”

His words fueled my hunger. I took him deeper into my mouth, which made him clutch the counter for stability. When I looked up at his face and saw he was on the verge of coming on my command, I felt more empowered and even sexier.

“Oh, Cassie,” he pleaded, my hair entwined in one of his hands, the other keeping his balance on the stool above me. “Mother of God,” he whispered, as I felt myself pulling the orgasm right out of him. He drew a sharp breath and stiffened. Then he went beautifully silent. After a few moments I felt him receding, and eventually sliding out of my mouth. I kissed that lovely place where his torso met his thighs. Then I grabbed my T-shirt from the floor and gently wiped my mouth. A feeling of triumph surged through me, and I smiled up at him.

“Man alive, girl,” he gasped, stepping back from me. “You didn’t need any instructions. That was … amazing.”

“Really?” I said, stepping up to him. We were chest to chest, and I could feel the muscles of his chest against me.

“Really,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “A. Maze. Ing.”

He had an astonished look on his face, and he was still breathing heavily. I was totally naked and standing on my clothes. I looked down.

“Pretty fucking adorable. There’s a washroom behind the pantry there,” he said, pointing.

I gathered my soccer mom uniform from the floor and began to walk away.

“Wait.”

I turned, and he stepped towards me and planted a long, firm kiss on my mouth. “That was exactly what I needed,” he said.

In the washroom I shut the door behind me. Even this small room off the pantry was lush and ornate, with gold taps and gold-velvet embossed wallpaper with burgundy paisley. The sink’s pedestal was a woman’s arms flowering out into hands that became the basin. I splashed cold water on my face and around the back of my neck. I took a mouthful of water and swallowed. Water dripped down my chest and into my cleavage. I traced it with my fingers. I had given someone pleasure, been generous, for the sake of doing it—and for no other reason.

I had begun to dress, when I heard a gentle knock on the door.

“It’s me, open up.”

Maybe unlike the masseur, Shawn wanted to say goodbye. I opened the door a crack. He eased his body into the washroom, and I felt my pulse speed up. He turned me around so that I was facing the mirror and he was behind me. Then he buried his head in the crook of my neck as he had done in the kitchen.

“This is for you,” he said.

He had put his jeans back on, but I could feel him hard again behind me. And as I reached my arms up and around the back of his neck, I felt his pelvis press against me, the cool ceramic rim of the vanity on my thighs. I was wet in an instant. He bit into my neck gently and then slipped one arm forward and between my thighs. My back arched into his hand. I bent forward, closer to the mirror, and watched his reflection, his eyes closed, his hands moving down across my breasts, my stomach, his fingers f

anning out. Even this had a rhythm for him, like he was finding a strain of music in my body. He was playing me, pulling me closer and closer, his fingers pulsing intensely inside me. To feel wanted, to be taken and touched like this, it was like coming to life from the inside out. My eyes met his in the mirror. The next thing I knew, everything was a blur of color and rhythm, and I felt myself explode into his hands, the heat rushing through me, and then the flood of relief.

“There it is, there it is,” he cooed, and without realizing it, I was pushing back on him until we both reached the wall behind us, leaning against it to stay upright. Then, for no real reason, I began to laugh.