Best of 2017

It’s more than I can resist. I’m going to come in her ass and I’m powerless to stop myself.

If I wasn’t paying her I’d play with her sweet little body all night. I’d suck her clit until she couldn’t take any more, and then I’d shower her, towel her dry and do it all over again.

But I am paying her. She’s here because of the cash in her handbag, and her portion of the insanely generous half a million Claude will be depositing into her bank account.

I let her breathe. Press my cheek to hers as her breathing returns to normal, my cock still gliding in and out, my balls on the verge of blowing.

I shudder as they go. The ripples rush right through me, pumping my seed into her perfect asshole, my cock still twitching as I come down.

She groans as I pull out all the way. Groans again as I move away from her.

Her eyes follow me as I head to the bathroom.

I take a piss and freshen up, and she’s still staring at the doorway when I return.

I smile as I pick up my shirt, and she shifts on the bed, winces as she moves to the edge.

My heart pangs with the urge to kiss her. It’s so laughable it turns my stomach.

“So, um… what now?” she asks.

“You’re free to go,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she says, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear she sounded disappointed.

The idea is ridiculous.

She’s going to walk away from this experience with enough money to set her up for the next ten years and there’s nothing I can do about the fact I’ll most likely never see her again.

My sweet Amy will likely take the bonus twenty-five grand in her handbag and buy herself a stiff drink in the all-night bar downstairs. I only wish I could join her, but that’s not what I’ve paid her for.

“Was I, um… okay?” she asks.

“You were more than okay. You were excellent.”

Her smile is hollow. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Amy.”

“You’re welcome, sir. I, um… I really enjoyed it.”

Polite. I like that.

I button up my shirt and she gets to her feet. She gathers up her knickers, bra and dress from the floor and retreats to the bathroom. I don’t follow her.

I’m fully dressed when she returns, and so is she.

The tension is palpable, her fingers twisting in front of her as she struggles for the right words.

“Your room is booked all night,” I say. “You could stay if you wanted.” I put the toys back in the case and clasp it shut. “Or you can stay here, if you prefer. I believe this suite is better.”

“I need to get home,” she says.

“Yes,” I tell her. “So do I.”

I hate goodbyes. The emotional awkwardness disturbs me. I’ve normally made an exit by this point already, disappearing into the night with nothing but a curt thank you.

I take a step forward, and the sweet girl that she is closes the distance. She presses her tiny body flat to mine and wraps her arms around my neck.

I hate the way it makes me feel. Hate the way my heart quickens and that fucking lump comes up in my throat. I stiffen and she feels it. She pulls away.

“Thank you for everything,” she says.

Money. Thank you for the money. That’s what she means.

“Take your time, they do excellent room service here if you’re hungry.” I lift my case and head for the door, cursing myself that I didn’t take one last taste of her pretty mouth before I was done. I stop before I turn the handle, take a moment to soak her in as she buckles up her sparkly heels. “Get yourself into a decent law school,” I tell her. “There are plenty of firms who’d give you a shot with a decent degree under your belt.”

I fight the urge to tell her that I own one of them.

She nods. “Maybe one day. I hope.”

“Goodbye, Amy.”

“Goodbye, Mr Brown, sir.”

I close the door behind me.

MELISSA

MY FINGERS ARE shaky as I call a taxi from Dean’s phone.

I head through reception quickly, taking just a moment to leave my key card on the counter.

I don’t say a word all the way home, just stare out of the window, unsure whether I want to laugh or cry.

He was everything I dreamed and more, and then he was gone.

My heart breaks at the thought I’ll never see him again, yet it soars at the knowledge I had him.

I can still feel him, everywhere. My body is fucked raw, battered and bruised, but I feel amazing. I’d do it all over again right now.

Dean looks out through the window as I step out of the taxi. He’s already in the doorway when I climb the communal stairs to the landing.

He lets me through the door before he speaks, but as soon as I’m inside he’s one long stream of questions.

Am I okay? Did he hurt me? Did he pay me? What was he like?

I pour myself a glass of water and drink it down in one before I answer, and then I take the huge stuffed envelope from my handbag. His eyes are like dinner plates.

“No fucking way.”

I nod. “Yes way.”

“Have you counted it?”

I shake my head. “You can.”

He takes it from me and I smile as he dashes through to the living room. He clears the coffee table and tips out the notes. Jesus Christ, no wonder my handbag was so heavy on my lap in the taxi.

He flicks through one bundle. “These are thousands.” I watch as he stacks them up. “Twenty-five. Shit, Lissa, he’s given you twenty-five fucking grand.”

My heart pounds. “But that’s too much.”

“There’s twenty-five here,” he says. “Count for yourself. Fuck.”

But I don’t want to. I don’t want this to be about the money, even though it is. I’m going to treat Joseph to a brand new trainset, and maybe a nice meal or two for the three of us, clear my credit card of the excess, and then I’m going to deposit the rest in Joe’s trust fund.

“What is it?” Dean asks, and I shrug. “Did he hurt you?”

I wince as I take a seat beside him, but it’s not that. I tell him I’m fine.

“Then what?” He holds up a bundle of notes. “Lissa, you just earned twenty-five fucking grand.”

“I would’ve done it for free.”

/> He squeezes my elbow. “But you didn’t. You got so much money. You could quit the cleaning, go back to college…”

I smile. “I’m not going to give up the cleaning. This is all for Joe.”

He nods. “Sure. So it’s for Joe’s trust fund, that’s still good, right?”

It is good. It’s really good. I force this silly mood away. I’m pining before the night’s even over, and it’s stupid, it’s really stupid.

Dean clocks the change in me. He turns to face me and his eyes are wide and curious. “So what’s he like?”

The grin comes from nowhere. “He’s amazing.”

“No danger of going off the guy then.” He pauses. “Spill. What did he do?”

My cheeks burn at the memory. “Gory details?”

“Hell yeah.” He grins. “Gory details.”

I give him gory details. I give him every detail. Every single little squirmy one of them.

He hardly looks away as I recount the whole lot of it, and he’s shifting in his seat, clearing his throat when I talk about how rough he was, how hard he fucked me.

How he took my asshole and made it feel so good.

“Shit,” he says finally. “You really earned your fucking money.”

“I’d do it for free.” I smile. “And you would, too.”

He shrugs. “Don’t know about that,” he says.

But I do.

I’m absolutely positive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ALEXANDER

I KEEP that tumbled stone in my pocket right through my Sunday afternoon with the boys. I roll it in my fingers while they eat their shitty burgers. I grip it tight in my palm as I hug them goodbye. And I grip it tight all the way home.

I tell myself I’ll put the stone in the cabinet with the rest of my collection, but it’s on my nightstand when I slip into bed, and back in my pocket in time to leave for work in the morning.

Amy Leigh Randall. Brooklyn Road, EC1.

I have a good memory for detail.

I hold it up to the window in my office. Examine every little inclusion. Angel hair. Blonde strands, like hers.

I remember how she smelled. How her eyelashes fluttered. How her tight little pussy gripped me so perfectly and sucked me dry.