Masquerade

‘Yes.’

‘Now beg me.’

‘Please fuck me.’

‘That’s not begging. That’s telling.’

‘Please, please, Jaron, fuck me.’

‘That’s just asking politely. Beg, Billie. Beg.’

Fuck him. ‘Jaron, if you don’t fucking fuck me now I am going to go crazy and hurt someone, probably you.’

He laughs, a deep growling sound, and fucks me with such brutal hunger that the sofa rocks like crazy and I feel myself being jerked about like a rag doll. The sensation is one of total loss of control. Total submission. Total possession. There is no equality. Not even the pretence of such a thing. No woman wearing a strap-on can fuck this hard. He is the man and I am the woman. It even works if he is the bastard using my body for his pleasure. I clench my muscles tight around him and hang on for a mega release. When it comes it is bigger than mega: it fucking explodes inside me.  Shuddering into my muscles and shooting into my veins like a shaken champagne bottle.

‘Scream for me, bitch,’ he orders.

And I do. I howl my lungs out. And as I do I feel him reach his climax. He strains against me and pushes hard into me. For a while we are both silent and still. I hear the sound of the cat next door mewing on the balcony.

He pulls out of me, takes off the rubber, and turns back toward me. He drops to his knees in front of me and spreads my legs open. He strokes his hand upwards and opens my pussy wide and pulls back to look at it. I feel a bit embarrassed because it is still fluttering and clenching and dripping with the aftershocks of my tsunami of an orgasm.

‘I’ve missed this little cunt,’ he says.

I stare at him.

‘So plump and juicy.’

He plunges his tongue into it and the walls of my pussy clench involuntarily. My hands scrape through his silky hair as I pull him in and grind myself against his mouth. My hips begin to make frenzied jerking movements. I know what my body wants. That thing that only he seems to know how to do—when he traps my clit in the hot wet cave of his mouth and does not stop sucking until I find my release.

I find it in minutes.

Afterwards he sits on the couch and pulls me onto him so I am half lying on top of him.

‘Want to go out on a date with me?’ he asks softly.

‘And be provincial like everyone else?’

He shrugs. ‘What’s the alternative?’

I think about it. Ever since he walked into my life nothing has been the same. I am doing all the things I thought I would despise and lovin’ it.

‘What about Ebony?’

‘What about her?’

I pause. ‘So you two have, like, an open relationship?’

‘Something like that.’

‘And she’s not jealous?’

He bends his head forward to look at me. ‘She’s not your responsibility, Billie. She’s mine.’

Whoa! That last sentence hurt! Like a punch in the gut. My first instinct is to spring away from his body. As if he feels it, he holds me tight against his body. ‘Ask me whether I love her.’

I swallow hard and feel glad that he cannot see my face. ‘Do you love her?’

‘No,’ he says very emphatically.

‘OK.’

‘OK what?’

‘OK, I’ll go out with you.’

He brightens endearingly. ‘Where would you like to go? The opera? To the theater?’

‘Why on earth would you imagine I’d want to go and see a bunch of people wailing in a language I don’t understand?’

He chuckles. ‘We can go to an English production if you prefer.’

‘Are you serious? Opera in English kills cats.’

I can’t see him but I know he is smiling. ‘That’s what I love about you, Billie. You say it like it is. So refreshing.’

‘It’s just a matter of taste. Lana likes the opera.’

‘Lana Barrington?’

I nod.

‘I met her at the art exhibition, didn’t I?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s a good friend of yours?’

‘My best friend,’ I correct.

How strange, but his body tenses. ‘Hmmm…’

I twist around to look at him, but his face gives nothing away. ‘We grew up together. I guess we are more like sisters.’

His body relaxes again. ‘She’s the reason you have this flat?’

‘Yup. I used to live on a council estate and her husband didn’t want her wandering around one whenever she came to visit me. So he bought this for me. For a billionaire he’s a cool guy.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘How did she meet him?’

I’m not about to tell him the story of how Blake paid to acquire Lana. ‘It’s a long story and you’ll be bored.’

‘No I won’t.’

I look at him curiously. ‘Why are you so interested in Lana?’

‘I’m interested in everything about you,’ he says, and for some reason that I refuse to investigate further, his claim rings hollow. He runs his hand along my body and palms my breast. I turn around to lie with my forearms on his chest.

‘So what am I to you then?’ I ask.

‘What do you want to be?’

I shrug lightly. ‘I can’t be your girlfriend, because you already have one. So what else is left? I can be your fuck buddy or I can be your mistress.’

His voice is very soft. ‘Do you want to be my girlfriend?’

‘Not really,’ I say immediately and a shade too brightly. ‘I think I’d kinda like to be your mistress. You’ll have to take me to insanely expensive restaurants and buy me diamonds.’

His eyes flash. ‘Do you like diamonds? Somehow I never thought of you as a diamond girl.’

‘I was kidding. I’ve never owned a diamond. Lana gave me an obscenely large sapphire pendant for my birthday. But it’s so valuable I’ve had to put it in her safe.’

‘A sapphire to go with your eyes.’

‘That’s what Lana said,’ I say with a smile and, because he is looking at me strangely, I start babbling. ‘Lana says diamonds are actually not precious at all. That diamonds are as plentiful as amethysts and should be priced the same. They are only expensive because their supply is so tightly controlled.’ I snap my mouth shut. I’ve never been a babbling brook before.

‘Clever Lana. She’s absolutely right. It is a strange paradox of this world that all the things that are truly rare are artificially kept at low prices and the things that are not are inflated to insane prices. The only diamonds that are rare are the colored diamonds and the larger sizes. All the others have no more worth than semi-precious stones.’

Taking my forearms he lifts me up and suddenly I am on my back lying where his legs had been.

‘Wow! You’re fast,’ I say laughing.

‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby,’ he says, and never a truer word was spoken.