Sienna
He opens the robe wider.
I look down at the thick dark hair on top of his head as he takes in my newly waxed pussy, only the thinnest strip of hair remaining there now. I think about yesterday or the day before or the week before. I think about how my life had been normal then. Now, this, him… it’s about as far from my normal as it can get. I’m not really even sure how I got here. Or how I said yes to this deal. Or why.
Even given the situation with Ciara and Sean, wasn’t there an alternative? One that made more sense?
But then his fingers are on me again, touching the strip of hair and I can’t think about Ciara or Sean or anything anymore. Especially not when he looks at me with his strange now darker eyes.
“Sit.”
I sit on the coffee table behind me.
“Lie back.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Lie back, Sienna.”
I do as he says and immediately, I feel his knees between mine, nudging my legs apart. I startle when a moment later, cool liquid spills on me and when I look at its source, I find him pouring the contents of his whiskey glass on my sex.
He meets my eyes and his are black now, only ringed in blue and green. I can’t look away from them as liquid slides down between my lower lips, the sensation erotic.
Although maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me while doing it.
When he touches my knee, I gasp. But he just pushes it wider, eyes on me as he does. He shifts his gaze slowly down to my pussy, takes both ankles and sets my feet up on the coffee table so I’m completely open to him.
He stands, a giant looming over me. He picks up the bottle of whisky, brings it to my breasts, tilts it. It takes just a few cool drops on each nipple and they’re hard.
When he sets the bottle down, he leans over me, places his hands on the table on either side of me, bracing his weight, caging me in, and, eyes locked on mine, he licks the whiskey off one breast, then the other.
I grip the edges of the coffee table to keep from grabbing hold of him. I’m not sure if I’d push him away or pull him closer.
He straightens, crouches between my legs and slides his tongue over my belly and down to my sex. I can’t breathe. All I can do is watch him as he watches me. When I don’t close my legs, he slides his tongue through my folds, and I hear the shudder of my breath as he licks the whiskey.
As he licks me.
His breath is warm, his tongue wet and tickling my clit while the scruff of his jaw scratches me. I close my eyes, grip the edges of the table and find myself arching my back, lifting into him. Wanting him.
But then he pulls away.
Sits back on the couch and refills his glass, eyes on me, his erection a steel rod in his pants.
“Whiskey and pussy are two of my favorite things in the world,” he says.
I release my grip on the table, begin to close my knees, but he stops me.
“Stay. Just like this. Knees wide. I want to see.”
——-
Sienna
The next hour is torture.
He drinks his whiskey and pushes buttons on his phone, and he could be playing a crossword puzzle for all I know while I lie here, whiskey sticky between my legs.
What he did, it was a tease. And I know he did it on purpose. Leaving me like that. And I want his mouth back on me, sucking my clit, dipping inside me. I want him to make me come.
He’s still hard, but he won’t touch me. Is this to prove some point? Because all it’s doing is pissing me off.
But I can’t admit that. I won’t.
Is that what he wants? For me to ask for it? Beg him for it? Because he seems perfectly content to just look at me every now and then between whatever’s got his attention on his phone.
It feels like an eternity when the thing finally rings and, after a quick glance at it, he stands, his expression darkening.
“Go have a shower,” he tells me, the phone still ringing in his hand. Without a backward glance, he walks into another room. I hear him talking just before he closes the door and I sit up, feeling ignored and annoyed.
Is this all I’m here for? For him to play with me?
But what do I expect? He owns me. He just paid me a deposit.
I shake the thought away, stand up, walk to the bedroom and when I switch on the lights, the windows tint. I’m glad because even though we’re on the top floor of the building, I feel like everyone can see me.
I have a shower and towel-dry my hair, then walk back to the living room but when I pass the door he disappeared into, I hear his raised voice. He’s pissed.
“What do you mean, small setback? This is going to cost me months!”
Silence, as I guess whoever is on the other end says something. When that silence is followed by the sound of a fist being slammed into a wall, I quickly retreat to the bedroom and climb into the bed.
I wonder who he’s talking to and why he’s so pissed off. I think I don’t ever want to see that side of him. Not directed at me, at least.