“I brush her mouth with the tip of my dick.” When I restart my fantasy, she continues pleasuring herself. I purposely speak slowly so she can prolong it. “I’m hard because I want to bury it inside her, but I pull back. Her lips are wet with my clear juices. She licks it delicately.”
Paige’s tongue darts out and wets her mouth. I groan at the sight, and she gives me a small smile.
“When I order her to spread her legs, she does it eagerly”—Paige spreads her legs even more widely—“and I crouch down and finger her wetness.” My voice drops low, almost guttural now. “She shudders and begs me. She wants to feel me, measure me, know me. And I let her. She uses her mouth and tongue all over my dick, then pulls it inside her mouth. She’s completely focused on me, my reaction, my need.”
Paige’s breathing is rough and loud. From the sound of it, I know she’s really close. A moan tears from her arched throat. Her hand pinches her nipple. I bend down and take the other one in my mouth and suck hard, my teeth scraping against the hard tip, while grinding the heel of my hand against her clit.
Her back arches as she screams out her pleasure. It lances through me, and
I grip my dick hard, almost roughly.
When she’s recovered from her orgasm, she looks at me with a sly smile. “So that’s your fantasy? A slave girl sucking you off?”
“Something like that,” I say. My cock throbs, and the mischievous look on her face isn’t helping.
“How about your fiancée doing it to you?”
She pushes my shoulders with her hands, and I lie back. My heart is in my throat, and she pushes the robe aside and licks her lips. “God, you’re so big. So hard.” She kisses the underside of my shaft. It tingles and heats, and I feel like my skin’s on fire.
She licks the head, her pink tongue flickering over it like it’s a hard candy. My hands fist the blanket. My fantasy ends with me mouth-fucking the slave girl, but it’s probably too much for her.
Paige’s soft hair brushes over my belly and thighs, and the feathery sensation combined with what she’s doing to my dick with her tongue is killing me. Then she pulls me inside her mouth and bobs up and down, and I’m a goner.
Countless women have gone down on me, many of them uninhibited about debasing themselves if that’s what got me off, but this is totally different. It’s like I’m living my fantasy with Paige as the object of my desire. She has no idea, but she’s basically my fantasy girl—she wants me without caring about who I am, how famous I am, how rich I am.
There’s a part of me that feels hopeful. That maybe this relationship really can work… Maybe our marriage of convenience may end up being more.
Because no matter what, Paige is not Lauren.
And the realization is a hammer that shatters the shackles around my heart. I can visualize our future together, and I know I can make her love me, stay beyond the first year. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be. And I want to be very much.
When the orgasm hits me I arch into her mouth, my entire body tight as a high-wire. Guttural groans emanate from my chest.
Finally I recover. I pull her up, feeling the sensual glide of her smooth skin against me. My blood still sizzling, I kiss her, tasting the blended taste of her and my release. I want to take her, thrust my dick deep into her and fuck her all night long so she can’t remember what it’s like to be without me inside her, but it’s late, and her eyelids are drooping now.
She’s probably dead tired from all that shopping—Josephine can be quite a drill sergeant—and she’s pregnant on top of that.
Reining in my baser needs, I tuck her against my body tightly and watch over her as she sleeps.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Paige
When I open my eyes, I’m in the movie room alone, and it’s already eight according to the clock on the wall opposite of the screen. My cheeks flame as I remembered what happened last night, but I don’t regret it. A sense of wellbeing courses through me. I enjoyed making Ryder come. He’s glorious when he lets go, his powerful throat bent, tendons stark on his gorgeously tanned skin.
Just thinking about it makes me squirm, my private parts going all tingly and needy again. I get up and see a single calla lily on the table. A smile splits my face as I bury my nose in the flower and inhale.
I throw on my shirt and stand up. I want to spend the rest of the day lazing around, but I can’t. My mood wavers a bit as I think about the day’s agenda.
Today is Friday. The Day of Shoes. Apparently, the twenty pairs we bought on Wednesday aren’t enough. Josephine tells me as much immediately after breakfast, even as she drags me out to go get some more.
Don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. But spending Ryder’s money bothers me. I would’ve preferred that I pay for all these news things…except I can’t afford to blow seventy thousand dollars on shoes.
“Do they solve world hunger and create peace among all mankind? Sheesh.” I ask as Josephine hands over Ryder’s credit card to the sales people.
“They make you look hot. What more do you want from shoes?”
“I already look hot enough,” I grumble, gesturing at my raspberry colored strapless dress and matching sandals.