Hostile Takeover Hill, W (thriller books to read .txt) 📖

“Six minutes, twelve seconds. You’re still a slut.”

“But I proved I’m your slut, didn’t I?” Her voice had a rasp from the strain to her vocal cords.

“Time to eat your salad,” he said in quiet reproof, but he didn’t deny it. Picking up his fork, he fed her. She needed that, because she was sure she wasn’t steady enough to coordinate eating utensils. Her swollen folds were pressed against the wood, sending aftershocks rippling through her.

She wished she could stay mindless. As rationality returned, she was thinking of the seamless choreography of that scene. He’d done this before. Brought another woman here, maybe had her perform the same way for him.

She stopped chewing, pulled her face away, ostensibly to get a drink of wine. He reached to steady the glass for her, but she shook her head. “I can do it.” She took it in about three swallows, but when she reached for the bottle to refill it, he moved it away.

“Enough,” he said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“How did I do against the others?”

Why did she say that aloud? She couldn’t be petulant and jealous. He wasn’t a monk. For heaven’s sake, she’d seen him fuck three women less than two weeks ago. It wasn’t that. It was that he’d done to her something he’d done before, like she was some kind of mimeograph.

“Never mind. Sorry. Mentor-sub thing, no commitment. Forgot.” She tried to keep the acid out of her tone, but of course she was unsuccessful. She was going to screw this up so badly if she couldn’t sit on her mouth. Hell, she’d held out six minutes against Noah’s tongue. It shouldn’t be harder to sit on her emotional reactions than her physical ones, right?

“Noah is a regular at Progeny. He has a couple Mistresses who favor him, but he doesn’t belong exclusively to any of them yet. Occasionally he’s assisted me with a session there. This is the first time I’ve asked him to help me outside those walls, in this particular way, though I have come here for dinner before.”

“Oh.” She nodded. Picking up the napkin, she tried a quick dab at her eyes, to take care of the stress tears from the climax. She probably looked a sight.

“Marcie, did I tell you that you could remove your hands from the chair?”

Fuck, he hadn’t. She’d been so dazed by the past few minutes, she’d just blanked on it. Setting aside the napkin, she returned her hands to the chair. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’ll let it pass, but only because you’re still disoriented. I like it. Flushed and dazed, nipples still hard, and I can smell your cunt. Just the way I want you.” He took his own napkin, dipped it in water as she’d done for his fingers. While she trembled from an entirely different reaction this time, he dabbed at her mascara. He stroked the cloth over her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. Even swiped at her nose, teasing her as she started to giggle and tried to squirm away from him. Then he lifted one of her hands from the chair, tucked the napkin into it so she could do that part for herself.

“Now that we’ve handled the appetizer course,” he said, “eat the rest of your salad. You can lift both hands.”

She had to get back on her game, but she remained unsettled, hyperaware that she was still exposed, open to him as he desired. In fact, as he was eating his salad, he settled his other hand on her thigh, stroking it up high. Her pussy was as attentive to him as if she hadn’t just come. He was going to have her ready again in no time.

“Why anal sex?” she asked, just as the maître d’ topped the stairs with another couple. Marcie bit her lip, but fortunately, it didn’t seem they’d been paying attention. So she decided not to be deterred, particularly when the maître d’ seated them at the other end of the balcony. “I’ve always wanted to ask. Will you tell me?”

Finishing his salad, Ben leaned back, picked up his wine. She continued to eat, giving him time, but his silence was encouraging. Usually he said no right off if he had no intention of answering a question.

“Most women have had sex by the time they reach legal age,” he said at last, “at least in the usual ways. A lot still haven’t had anal sex. Or, if they have, the guy had no clue what he was doing, so it left the woman feeling pretty neutral or, worse, it hurt like hell. She’s nervous about that region for that or a variety of other reasons, unaware of what a pleasure zone it can be.”

“There’s also a lot of emotional reaction trapped in that area,” Marcie observed. When Ben gave her a look, she shrugged. “Penetration would unlock it. I’m guessing that’s a big draw for you.”

“Really? How so?”

She ignored the trace of sarcasm as he invited her to tell her about himself. Wiping her lips delicately, she raised her gaze to his. “Getting a submissive to trust you, make herself vulnerable that way, challenges your ability as a Dom, and you like a challenge.”

He flashed her that feral smile, a baring of teeth. “Actually, the main perk is not giving her a chance to claim I knocked her up.”

“Yes. Having a little Ben running around is a scary thought.” She considered him. “You want her to trust you, but you don’t trust her. Doing it face-to-face makes it more emotionally naked for both participants. With the anal, you’re stripping her down, taking her to a more vulnerable place, but you’re staying removed. Untouched.”

His expression flickered. “A fair point. But it’s a conscious decision. I’m not looking to be touched.”

She knew it was an attempt to tease, but the edge to his voice made his play on words a mockery, a warning to back off. She should leave it there, but she wasn’t one