Image used with permission of Little Switch Bitch. To see it in its original home, click here.
As a rule, my stories are all written on the day they’re published. But not this time. This post is what it looks like when I cheat because I lifted this partial chapter from an abandoned project that I started in 2016. When I saw this week’s Masturbation Monday prompt I couldn’t help but think of this scene, so I’ve decided to share it with y’all. It’s a long one, though, so get comfy before going in. Enjoy, folks.
I stared at the golden numbers in front of me, wondering for the thousandth time since I’d arrived at Glenville Royal Hotel just what the hell I was doing.
Every step of the way here, I’d fully intended to head to room sixty-four to spend the night with my boss and apparently on-again lover. I’d scrambled into the lift, telling the guy beside me that I was going to the second floor, only to still be standing there, smiling awkwardly, when he vacated on the fourth. I went all the way up to the top floor, palm sweating around the card with one six nine hand-printed in the corner.
Now that I was right outside of the door, I couldn’t even muster the will to knock. I would have said I’d lost my nerve if I had arrived with it, but truth is, I hadn’t. I didn’t know what I was doing, or why I was here, but I did know I was making a mistake. I should have stayed home and called Griff from there. I should have avoided the hotel and suggested that he to come to me instead, but I hadn’t. I’d stripped out of my sensible work clothes, showered the lingering scent of Shane’s cologne off my skin. Slipped into a little black dress, completing the look with stockings, suspenders, and patent leather stilettoes. I hadn’t bothered with knickers.
Then I’d made my way here, but I wasn’t outside of Griff’s room like I’d intended to be. I was outside of Shane’s, and after almost four minutes of procrastinating, it was time for me to put that right. I decided to get back in the lift and make my way back down to the second floor, so couldn’t understand why I was raising my fisted hand, tapping on the door with my knuckles.
I’d done it lightly, so there was a chance he wouldn’t have heard it. I’d count to ten, and if he didn’t open the door I’d…
The door swung open. Shane regarded me with a smile of barely concealed victory. “You came,” he said, stepping aside so I could enter.
Praying I didn’t fall off my suddenly too high shoes, I strutted past, tossing my hair like I could take him or leave him. “I know I did, and that’s the only reason I’m here.”
Oh, he had a lovely laugh! It was warm and gawky, even though the man himself was anything but. I made myself face him, wanting to say something else that might prolong his laughter, but I was struck dumb.
Shane stood in the light of a fake wood fire and an orange paned tiffany lamp, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His black hair was a riot of just had a nap spikes, and he was – to my utter horror and delight – naked from the waist up. His abdomen looked like a batch of freshly baked baps, and his chest was solid. A gym bunny, huh? He was vain enough, I supposed. It didn’t look intentional, but when he raised his glass to his lips his bicep flexed, hard and round.
Don’t look down, don’t look down… it was too late. My gaze was already slipping beyond his abs, coming to a rest on the front of his jeans. Yep, just as I thought. Unbuckled belt, first two buttons of his jeans undone. The light from the lamp cast a shadow on his skin, sharply defining that sexy ‘V’ I’d always wished Griff had. I could see a dark line of hair and…
I turned away, trying to hide my runaway blush. So, the guy was hot. Just because I’d never seen anyone hotter didn’t mean I should be behaving this way. I should just tell him how it was, tell him that I still didn’t want to be his kitten, and then I should take my leave.
But my roaming eyes had landed on the table in front of the small leather sofa and the words died on my lips. On it was a lined notepad, the top sheet torn in half, and beside it sat two pens; one red, and one blue. That wouldn’t have meant anything to me if the Polaroid pictures under the red pen hadn’t been of me at Lara’s wedding, and at Georgie’s birthday breakfast in Coffee and Crepes the Monday after.
Shane emptied the contents of his glass down his throat then used the empty to gesture at the table. “It’s not… actually, no. It is exactly what it looks like.”
“You stalked me?” I half laughed. How could he be so blasé about something so serious? Something so wrong?
Shane nodded as if agreeing with me, dumping his glass on the ugly globe mini bar. “In a fashion, yes. I had Shelley’s full cooperation, though, so I wouldn’t call it stalking of the disturbing variety.”
“All stalking is disturbing,” I pointed out. “Shelley didn’t slip me your number the second time, did she?”
I’d been certain that I was right, and I now I knew was. I had left Shane’s number in the coffee shop. He’d slipped another copy of it into my pocket when I’d bumped into him in the street. The number Shelley had given me was written in red ink, the one Shane gave me was written in blue.
He smiled, picking up a decanter and offering me a drink. I declined, so he poured himself a large one and downed it in one gulp. “She said you’d probably be stubborn,” he explained. “She said you’d leave the number and end up too proud to ask her for it later, so I made sure you still had the option to call me.”
“And she was right,” I sighed.
“Yes, she was.”
Taking a few measured steps, Shane cleared some of the space between us. He didn’t come too close, though, opting to lean against the writing bureau a few feet away from me. Head cocked he considered me intently. “Would I be hasty in assuming that you showed up here because you’ve changed your mind about us?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It scares me, Shane. You scare me.”
“I’ve told you I’m not a threat to you, Cleo. I would never do anything to put a sub in danger. Some things might seem off the cuff, but everything I do is thought about carefully and in depth before I even suggest it. And as I’ve already told you, you always have the option of saying no.”
“Good to know.” I fiddled with the hem of my dress, stopping when I realised the gesture had drawn Shane’s attention to my legs. “That wasn’t what I meant, though. I took it on good faith that you’d know what you were doing.”
“Then what scares you?” he asked, eyes still on the tops my thighs.
Time for honesty. In a voice so soft he had to strain to hear me, I made my admission. “Disappointing you. I’m scared that I won’t be good at the stuff you want me to do. I’ve never done it before. Any of it.”
Shane pushed away from the bureau, making it wobble. He came to a stop in front of me and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’ve already done some of it, Cleo, and you did it perfectly.”
“When?” I sounded so affronted. I’d never indulged any of his kinks on the few occasions we’d hooked up. Not even once.
“What we did at the station and the library was all part of what I want from you,” he said.
“Jesus, we had sex, Shane. Just sex.”
“No, we sex in public with people standing just a few feet away. Anonymous sex because we’d literally just met. I fingered you in your colleague’s office in the middle of a busy function. You were willing to carry on even if we were caught and that’s one of the things I crave. All of the other things, well, that comes in time.”
When he put it like that, I couldn’t deny that he was right. Public sex would fall under the banner of exhibitionism and risk-taking. I’d done what he wanted before I knew what he wanted.
“If I say yes to this, which I’m not doing right now, but if I do will you teach me? Will you have the patience to show me how to do this at my pace?”
He stroked my cheek, letting me curl into his palm like I was, indeed, a kitten. And that was the exact kind of thing I needed. I craved affection, closeness, being touched and held. Being wanted. Something in me fed on the intimate attention of others. That’s what kept me going back to Griff time and again, even though I knew it was doomed. He offered me this, and it was as fulfilling as it was damaging.
“Yes, I will,” he murmured. “I can give you a demonstration now if you like. You’ve had a taste of what I like to do outside, so for balance, I want to show you what goes on behind closed doors. Would you like that?”
Peering up at him with eyes that I knew would be doe wide and afraid, I nodded.
Shane wasted no time. He stepped in, teasing my mouth with little licks of his tongue, pinching my nipples through my clothes, skimming his hands down my body. Bumps appeared on my skin wherever his touch went. I raised my arms to let him pull my dress over my head, shivering when he unhooked my bra with a one-handed flick of his fingers.
No matter who a guy was, the first time I stood before him naked was always nerve-wracking. I flicked through my catalogue of flaws, some of them real, some not, and wondered which ones he’d pick up on.
Taking a few paces back, Shane sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Appraising me from head to toe, he bit hard enough to make himself hiss when he saw that I was wearing the suspender with no knickers.
“Move your hair around your back.” It was a whispered command, but a command all the same.
I did as I was told, pulling blonde tumbles away from my chest where they’d been hiding what he wanted to see. He moaned quietly when I gave my shoulders a subtle shake, making my breasts sway.
I thought he’d come back to me so he could touch them. Hoped he would, in fact, but he didn’t. He pointed at a space just to his right, over by the fire, and motioned for me to go there. Balancing on one foot, I started to kick off a shoe, but he clicked his fingers.
“Leave them on.”
Oh. Okay. The distance between me and where he wanted me was only half a dozen steps, but it felt like walking down a runway. Once I was in position, he came up behind me. Both of his hands were on my ass, stroking, kneading, his lips were moving over my shoulder. A sharp slap on the inside of my leg made me gasp, then it dawned on me what he wanted when he did it again.
I parted my legs, stopping only when he slapped me a third time. Would he touch me while I stood here like this? All of me was open to him, ready for him. I stared at the fake orange flames, aching to hear the unmistakable sound of denim being stripped off long legs and hitting the floor.
But Shane had other ideas.
Something knocked against both of my shoes and I looked down in time to see him settle on the floor with his head between my feet, hands wrapped around my heels. He stared up at me… no, at my vulva, and spoke quietly.
“Just stand there with your eyes closed until I tell you that you can move, and don’t say a word. Not one.”
“Please don’t let me fall,” I whispered.
His eyes flicked to mine. “I won’t, I promise. When I give you an instruction, I’d like you to answer either yes or no Sir, or yes or no Master. I need to know that you’re here with me and understanding what’s happening at all times, okay?”
Fighting the urge to laugh I said, “Yes, Sir.” Master my ass, there was no way would I ever be calling him that, even if I decided to stick around. Sir I could do, though. For now.
Standing above him in my stockings and stilettoes, I reflected on my situation. It wasn’t too bad, thus far. Grant used to like having me face first on the bed with my hands reaching around to open myself up for him. Griff liked to do the same thing but preferred to have me spread wide while I lay on my back. Doing this with Shane was just rehashing that but in a different position. A bizarrely hot position. It wasn’t all that great for me, comfort wise, though. My calves started to burn after a while, and the heat from the faux fire was making me dizzy.
I don’t know how long Shane made me stand like that, and I couldn’t help wondering what might be going through his mind as he stared silently up between my thighs. There was no way of knowing, but I knew when whatever he was waiting for began to happen because he sucked in a shallow, unsteady breath.
I’d been getting progressively wetter as I stood silently over him and just as I felt the first thread stretch from inside of me then drop, he gasped. I opened my eyes and dared to peer down at him. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open, and he was smiling.
Clear fluid dripped from me in rivulets, right into his waiting mouth. My belly did all kinds of flips and crunches when it occurred to me that he was being true to his word. When we’d first met, he’d told me that next time he tasted my juices he’d drink them straight from my cunt. And here he was, doing just that.
When he opened his twinkling blue eyes and licked his lips, a deep moan issued from between mine. Speaking had been forbidden but moaning had not. He reached up, running his index finger from my anus, stopping a hairsbreadth from my pulsing clit.
I was still watching him, and he wrinkled his nose as if he’d caught me misbehaving, but I could see the smile behind it. “Close your eyes, Cleo,” he murmured. “Don’t see me… feel me.”
As soon as my lids lowered, that long finger slipped inside of me. Finger fucking had been a staple manoeuvre in the repertoire of every guy I’d slept with since high school, but not one of them had done it like this.
There was no humdrum thrusting. No frantic knuckling of my vulva like there had been at the library. His finger dipped in and out, unhurried, twisting and turning, feeling out all the places that made me gasp and shudder. God, he had me soaked! I knew my juices would be running down his fingers, and, given the squelching sounds they were making, they were probably trickling down his wrist too.
“Bear down on me,” he commanded, his voice a sharp bite.
I did exactly as I was told. His penetrating finger became two, and he had to push to force them past my muscles. Once they were inside me, he pressed against my front wall in tight little circles until I gasped his name. It felt so good, but I fought the urge to grind and kept myself still.
“Now squeeze,” he whispered, as breathless as I was.
I squeezed with everything I had, gripping his fingers, trying to keep them inside of me even as he pulled them out.
Shane repeated the instructions until I picked up the pattern. Push, squeeze, push, squeeze, over and over until I was hopelessly rocking my hips, helping those fingers hit the right spot.
“This is what I want you to do next time I fuck you. This is how you milk my cock, kitten.”
I was so close to coming, but I didn’t know if he wanted me to or not. Of all the things I could have remembered from the BDSM book Griff had caught me reading, one thing had stuck in my mind. And it was ringing loud between my ears now. A Master expected his sub to ask for permission to orgasm, so I panted through my teeth, slowing my hips, softening my squeezes in the hope that I could stall the inevitable.
“Good girl,” Shane growled, pushing in a third finger to join other two. “I wasn’t expecting you to be able to hold that off, I’m impressed. You’re going to come soon, okay?”
I cried out in grateful delight, thanking him and God equally. Wobbling on my heels when his sexy laugh reached my ears. “Bend your knees, Kitty. Bring that pussy down here so I can lick it ‘til it purrs.”
Oh, God! I bent my knees, crouching over Shane’s face, clinging to his hands when he wrapped them around my thighs as he drew himself up. The first lick made me lose my balance, and I fell forward, jarring my wrists in an effort to save myself. But Shane didn’t seem to notice how ungraceful I’d become. He just carried on making out with my cunt, grunting like a feeding animal.
“I need to come,” I wheezed, scratching at the floor. “Please, Shane. Please, may I come?”
“Please, who?” he asked, slapping my ass and burying his face further in, the balance he had between sucking and licking so perfect it was happening, permission be damned.
“Please, Sir, please let me come!” I shrieked, knowing I was going to anyway.
I exploded, rearing up, riding his face as my muscles squeezed and pulsed around his jammed fingers, as my clit retreated under its hood in a bid to get away from his still probing tongue.
Shane slipped out from beneath me. He picked me up from behind like I weighed nothing and carried me across the room. The leather sofa was cool against my fevered skin. I knew how waif-like I looked against black, with my paleness and my blonde hair. An old boyfriend used to gaze at me in awe say I looked almost ethereal, and Shane was giving me a similar look now. His easy grin quickly turned into a challenge.
“So,” he said, pulling the belt out of the loops of his jeans with a loud snap. What a hot fucking action that was. Sitting down beside me, he turned me to face him. “Are we going to re-evaluate my proposal or are we not?”