Best of 2017

“Don’t lie to me, Amy,” he growls, but I’m not. I tell him so.

He turns my face to his, and I tell him again.

“You. I play with myself and I think about you.”

“That’s…”

“Crazy,” I tell him, and I don’t care. “I know. But it’s true. And I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

He looks torn, and I hate that. I hate the way he’s fighting what he already knows.

“Why me?” he asks, and flicks up the speed of the massager. It makes me squirm.

“Because…” I begin, and I don’t know how to answer.

“Why?” he repeats.

But he’s too late, because I’m already tumbling, already riding the wave, my body a clammy wreck against his.

He doesn’t take the massager away, not even when I’m wriggling at the contact.

“You play with yourself and you think of me, why?”

“Because… because you’re… everything…” I breathe, and it’s such a stupid thing to say. He stares down so hard on me. “Last weekend… when you took me… it was everything… you took everything…”

He blinks, and I think I’ve got away with it.

“You… when you choked me… it felt so good…” I tell him. That gets a reaction. I feel his cock twitch against my hip. “And I want more… I want so much more… it’s not just… about the money…”

“Why are you here?” he growls, and his lips press to the corner of mine.

“Because… of you…” I hiss. “Only you…”

“And what if it wasn’t me who’d bought your exclusivity?”

“I wouldn’t be here…”

I don’t know if he believes me. I hope he does.

“You don’t even know me,” he says.

I meet his eyes. “I feel you,” I whisper, and I’m going all in. My clit is sending me insane. “And I think… I hope… I hope you feel it, too… because it’s crazy… but it’s true… I feel you…”

The only sound above the massager is my own raspy breath. He’s silent. And I can hardly look at him, can hardly face the rejection I know is coming.

Only it doesn’t.

“I think about you,” he tells me. “So I guess we’re both fucking crazy.” He breathes against my lips. “I’m dangerous,” he rasps. “My tastes are dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”

My eyes bore into his. “Do it,” I tell him. “Please… do it.”

He pauses for just a second, long enough to press his lips to mine.

And then he closes his fingers around my throat.

ALEXANDER

I’M ALWAYS CONTROLLED. Steady.

But when I clasp my fingers around her pretty throat this time, I’m neither.

My left hand is clumsy. My weight is precarious on my elbow as I cut off her air.

I keep the bodywand to her swollen little bud, piling on the pressure as she squirms and splutters and shivers for me.

The girl is fucking crazy. And so am I.

I feel the strain of her throat and it makes my balls tighten. Her airless mouth makes my cock twitch, and I want to fuck it. I really want to fuck it.

But not yet.

Her eyes are watery pools as I rise to sitting, and I have a great vantage point from here, staring down on her as she grips her thighs to stop herself fighting.

I wait until the last moment, until I feel her slipping into unconsciousness, and then I let her take one long gulp before I hitch onto my knees and plough my dick straight into her open mouth. She retches. I feel her throat constrict, and I love it. I fucking love it.

She’s wriggling under the massager as I shove my cock down her throat. I love the way it bulges for me. I run my fingers over her neck and I feel myself in there.

“You’re everything… you took everything….” Her words have fucking addled me. I’m riding the crazy train all the fucking way.

I ride her fucking throat with fucking everything.

I wait until she’s coming under the massager, her whole body fucking wired before I let myself shoot my load.

She coughs as I pull out, and my cum splatters down her chin, creamy white mixing with smeared lipstick.

She looks fucking beautiful.

I scoop it back into her mouth with my thumb. “Another gift,” I tell her, and she swallows. She swallows every drop and then she smiles.

I turn off the massager and she sighs in relief.

She flinches as I brush my thumb over her swollen clit, but she doesn’t stop me.

I’m getting the impression she’ll never stop me, no matter what I do.

The prospect that I’m going to find out fills me with fear and awe in equal measure.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MELISSA

THE SUN IS RISING through the crack in the drapes as Alexander Henley comes in my ass for the final time this evening.

I’m exhausted, and he must be too. His chest heaves against my back as he recovers.

My ass is on fire. My clit is swollen and aching. My throat is raspy and raw.

He must be done. We must be done.

I’m disappointed, even though my body is absolutely spent. Beyond spent.

We don’t move, either of us, just stay entangled with his cock pulsing against my sore asshole.

I wonder if he’ll want me to leave now. If he’ll get up and leave like last time with nothing but a parting goodbye, but when he lifts himself from my body he pulls me with him. I move so easily, his chest still hot against my back as he rests his chin on my head. His arms wrap around my waist, and he holds me.

Alexander Henley actually holds me.

“Fuck,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling.

It takes me by surprise, and I giggle.

“That was… intense…” I hold up the opal to the morning light. “Lucky,” like I said.

“Lucky?”

I nod.

“You’re putting a good anal pounding down to a lucky crystal, are you? Tell me how lucky you think it is when you’re limping through the foyer later.”

Later.

He realises what he’s said, I’m sure of it, because he reaches for the remote control on the nightstand and flicks on the TV clock.

It’s gone six in the morning.

“You must be tired,” I tell him.

“I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t?”

&n

bsp; “Not easily.”

I turn over to face him. “Not even in a comfy bed at a swanky spa resort?”

“Not even in a comfy bed at a swanky spa resort.” His eyes are so tired. “But you could.”

My tummy flips. “Here?”

“If you would like.”

I’m stupidly nervous given that he just spent the whole night in every single part of me. “And you? Will you stay too?”

He takes a breath. “I have to get home.”

“Okay,” I say, and I can’t hide the disappointment. I don’t want to.

He looks as though he’s going to add something, so I wait quietly, giving the pause he needs.

It works. I can’t believe it works, but it does.

“I’ve got a dog,” he tells me, and my heart jumps at the fact Ted Brown told me something real about Alexander Henley. He stares right through me. “But I could stay awhile. Until you get to sleep.”

I smile so bright. “I’d like that.”

He shunts enough to pull back the bedcovers and I slip inside. He fluffs up the pillows and rolls to face me.

“I don’t sleep,” he says again, “but don’t let that stop you.”

But he does sleep. I know that because I’m still watching him through pretend-closed eyes as his close for real.

ALEXANDER

IT’S GONE ten when I get home to poor Brutus. A cunty move that takes me completely by surprise.

I wasn’t lying – I don’t sleep. Only I did fucking sleep. I slept like a fucking log for four fucking hours straight, tangled in the limbs of a stranger with her pretty face against my shoulder, as though I was in the arms of a fucking angel.

Yes, it’s that fucking ridiculous.

I feel grimy in yesterday’s suit, my shirt crumpled to fuck and my hair fresh from fucking bed in my haste to get back for him.

My grumpy black beast pads nonchalantly through from the conservatory as though he’s hardly noticed I’ve gone as I deactivate the alarm. I love how he plays it cool.

He’s left me a couple of parcels by the back door, and looks surprisingly pleased with himself as I busy myself cleaning up.

“I’m a prick,” I tell him. “I fell asleep. Who’d have fucking thought it, hey?” I ruffle his ears when I’m done. “A dick move, boy. It won’t happen again.”