Page 26 of Duplicity

She’s barely laid on any moves since she got here. No trite phrases, no trotting out of pretty, fake little moans or coquettish cries. Nope, she’s seemed unconvinced at best and shit-scared at worst.

I’ve never been an academic, but I can read people, and it’s clear as day to me that Marlowe is not here because she loves dick. For whatever reason, she wants or needs that paycheque, and who am I to judge? She’s been polite and sweet and twitchy, and she’s unwittingly provided exactly what I’m looking for so far this evening.

But there is nothing, and I meannothing, more gratifying than having a front-row seat to a beautiful woman unravelling at your hands. Watching Marlowe go from cautious to semi-engaged to unwittingly grinding her honeyed cunt against my face is a bigger and better win than anything I can recall in recent memory—and that includes thrashing my smug mate Ethan at golf last weekend.

I’m so into this it’s not funny. The scent of her, the taste of her, are driving me wild, so much so that I’ve flattened myself onto my stomach so I can hump the sofa. But when she begs me, in that panicked, breathy little voice, not to stop, I mentally punch the air so hard that I mentally dislocate my shoulder.

Fuckingyesssss.

I knew it.

Marlowe, Marlowe, Marlowe. You were already perfect—and then you went and begged.

‘I won’t stop, baby. I said I wouldn’t,’ I rasp, looking up so I can enjoy the titillating sight of her red-flushed face and chest,her greedy little tits heaving, her stomach tensing under my hand.

I am going to bring this home, and she’s going to fucking explode, and I’m going to enjoy every single second. I use my shoulders to winch her legs even further apart. God, I love having her on her back for me. Mine to pleasure and play with. Once she’s working for me, I’ll take great pleasure in tying her up and edging her for so long that it will bring new meaning to the phraseextended lunch hour, but now is about the pitch. Now is about demonstrating with aplomb the white-hot pleasure she’ll know when she becomes my fuck toy.

And so I go for maximum sensation. I’d stick a finger up that snug little arsehole so quickly if she hadn’t specified no anal, but we’ll get there when I’ve spent longer earning her trust. Instead, I lick her as roughly as I can while I fuck her deeply, rhythmically, with my fingers. I’d add a third, but she is seriously fucking tight. I’m not sure how I’ll survive burying my dick inside this lovely little cunt. I can’t resist a low groan at the thought of it.

Her noises increase in volume. She sounds like she’s totally out of control and hanging on for dear life, and so help me God, I love it.Thisis what I’ve hoped for: that the sweet, elegant, polite woman I was so struck by would and could transform for me into this writhing, thrashing creature as she submits to the delights of the Sullivan Pitch.

She’s shaking. Shuddering. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she chants over and over.

I’m going to answer every fucking prayer you’ve ever had, sweetheart.

I give her my all, laving at her impossibly swollen clit, and then she’s splintering in front of me, sobbing out her orgasm in a broken voice as her climax rips through her beautiful body.

I lick her and lick her, humming my approval, until she comes down and gives a little twitch that tells me it’s probably getting too sensitive down there. So I withdraw and instead practically launch myself at her, plastering myself to her front with my cock shamelessly jerking against her stomach and leaking its moisture over us as I kiss her through the aftermath.

I don’t just want toseeher orgasm; I want tofeelit. I want to savour the chasm that lies between having kissed her earlier, before I’d warmed her up properly, and kissing her now, when she’s all wanton and sated and soft, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue and revelling in the feel of her silky legs as they squeeze the sides of my thighs.

When I release her mouth so I can look at her, her beautiful brown eyes are almost all pupil, and her face is still flushed, and she looks nothing short of shell-shocked. I’m not sure if it’s the ferocity of her orgasm that’s taken her by surprise or the fact that she experienced it here with me, but I’ll take either option.

‘You okay?’ I ask with all the smugness of a man who knows it’s absolutely a rhetorical question.

‘Yeah.’ Her breathing is still ragged, her eyes darting over my face. ‘Yeah—I’m—that was?—’

Inability to string a sentence together is an excellent barometer for orgasm quality in my book.

‘Part two coming right up,’ I say, leaning over to grab my trousers off the floor.

I need to locate a condom and wedge my way inside this snug little cuntimmediately.

It would be so easy to flip her over, slide an arm under her stomach and drag her up to her knees, but honestly, I’m not sure she’ll handle it the first time. She’s seriously fucking tight. From my perspective, there’s no such thing as too tight, but I also don’t want to cause the poor girl any injuries.

For once, I’ll restrain myself and fuck her on her back. Warming her up once she starts working for me will be an absolute joy.

And yeah, I’m feeling pretty good about her saying yes to this job right now. Part one of my pitch waskiller.

‘When you work for me, you’ll put these on me,’ I tell her as I kneel up between her legs. Her chest is still heaving, her gaze squarely on my dick. I rip the foil with my teeth and proceed to roll the latex over my very fucking sensitive shaft. I didn’t bring lube, which in hindsight was an error, but she’s pretty soaked, so I hope she can take it.

I suck in a breath through my teeth as I put on the condom. Marlowe is eyeing my dick with what looks like extreme trepidation. ‘It’s okay,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll go slow.’

If I’m capable of holding back.

I don’t know why the fantasy of fucking an inexperienced woman does it for me so consistently. It’s not like I cross paths with many of them, to be honest. And it makes me feel like a bit of a dick. I know how patriarchal, how revoltingly passé, it is to judge women on different standards from those we men use on ourselves, but I’m not judging.

I’m just expressing a preference.

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