By: Tara Crescent

“Why go to the auction? Your requirements aren’t onerous. There’s got to be many women that will be willing to meet them.”

He nodded. “No doubt. But I’m wealthy and I’m not looking for entanglement. I like the simplicity of Lori’s arrangement. Three months is about all the commitment I want. Now, with the contract, is there anything you’d like to change up?”

I ignored the stab of pain I felt and focused on Dylan. This was my chance to set the seeds for Hanoi. “I’d like to explore France,” I said, striving for the perfect tone of tentative need. “I’ve never got a chance to travel much, but I’ve always wanted to. All the money you paid will go towards Alicia’s illness. I’d like to see as much of the world as I can in these three months. Would that be possible while I’m in Paris?”

He grinned. “Of course, cherie,” he replied. Those dimples danced in his cheeks. “I travel for work all the time. You are welcome to accompany me if you’d like. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

Hanoi. But that would have been too obvious. “I haven’t seen anything,” I replied. “So I place myself in your hands.”

Heat filled his gaze. “Do you? That remains to be seen.” He patted the desk. “Hop on.”

I obeyed, arousal seeping from every inch of my body. He positioned me at the end of the desk, facing him. My panties were swiftly removed and tossed to a corner of the room. “Lie back, Jenny,” he instructed. “Spread your legs for me.”

I did as he asked. My mind flashed back to the last time he’d done this. Two years ago, we’d been in his backyard in a small house in the Parisian suburbs. He’d spread me on the glass-topped table in his backyard and instructed me to keep my voice down before going down on me. It had been my first time.

He’d gone down on me once more that night. But there had been no one in the intervening two years. No one to hold my legs open with their strong grip. No one to bend their head and lick my pussy. No one to play my body like an expertly tuned instrument.

There had never been anyone except Alexander.

Lust filled my body with impossible haste. “Please,” I moaned as I lay spread out on his desk. “Please.”

He raised his head to look at me. “A very tasty treat,” he muttered. His chin was wet with my juices and it didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Make all the noise you want, Jenny. When the door is closed, no one can hear you plead. But remember,” his piercing blue eyes fixed me with their gaze, “you must ask for permission to come.”

“Yes Sir,” I breathed. “Please may I come?”

He chuckled. “Already? Oh no, Jenny. You ate breakfast. It’s my turn to get my fill.”

He dived into me again.

Each stroke of his tongue sent pleasure spiralling through me. Each flick over my clitoris had me clutching at the desk, clawing desperately for some kind of hold so that I could obey his wishes and not fall into orgasm. Each rasp of his stubble against my tender folds had me groaning in uncontrolled desire.

“Alexander,” I begged. “Please.”

He spanked my thighs hard. “Sir in a session, Jenny,” he growled, his voice vibrating painfully close to my clitoris. “Alexander outside a session. This is a session, in case it wasn’t clear.”

“Yes Sir,” I exhaled. “Please may I come?”

“No. Hold on.”

It had been two years. I’d touched myself sometimes in that time. At the start, it had been difficult. Too much of my sexual desires had fled as a result of Dylan’s systematic cruelty. But after that night in Paris when I had found pleasure in Alexander’s love making, I’d started trying to get over my fear. I’d gone out one day when I found myself in Berlin and I’d bought a dildo at a sex store, even though entering those doors took real courage. I’d fantasized that Alexander was touching me as I’d stroked myself until I was soaked with my juices. Then, I’d slide in the dildo and push it in and out of my wet, needy pussy.

As I grew bolder, I’d even added lubricant and a butt plug into the mix. When my fingers had scooped the lube and had spread it around my tight hole, my body had tingled in response. When I slowly inserted a finger and wiggled it around, I’d moaned involuntarily. I’d imagined that Alexander was watching me. Telling me what to do. “Push in the plug,” he’d said in my fantasy. So I had slowly lowered myself down on it, and felt each and every inch of it in my rectal passage.

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