By: Tara Crescent

He always told me I pleased him in my fantasies. He was always warm. Firm but kind. In my dreams, I trusted him more than I trusted even myself. In my dreams, I could allow myself to fly, unafraid of falling. Because Alexander would catch me.

“Please Sir,” I begged again. I couldn’t hold it back. “I don’t want to disobey you.”

His tongue circled my clitoris. His strong hands moved with intent and two fingers pushed inside my dripping snatch. My hips arched off the table, but his fingers didn’t break their grip. In and out, they squelched and each thrust made me plead a little more.

I was incoherent with need. My body was wracked with small tremors as I fought to hold off my climax. When he finally added a third finger and gave me permission to come, it was with a relieved shout that I surrendered to my release.


Once I could move again, I cocked my head at him. “If that’s one of your four designated sessions,” I said cheekily, “I should probably suck you off.”

He laughed aloud. “By mutual consent, we may elect to have more than four sessions a week,” he intoned in a dry imitation of a lawyer.

“I consent,” I said promptly. I was still lying on the table, still splayed open in front of him and I didn’t have a thought in my head about covering up.

“Good,” he said, drawing me up by my hands so I was seated on the edge of the table. “Three months, cherie. Let’s have fun, shall we? After all,” he smiled wickedly, “we still have your limits to figure out.”

It said something about how sated I was after my orgasm that I didn’t tense up at those words. Perhaps I was a fool, but I didn’t feel unsafe around Alexander. I even wanted to see the playroom.

If my heart was a little sad at how casual he was about our time-bound experiment, I was determined to ignore it. After all, the only reason I was with Alexander was that he was able to get me access to Dylan. That was all. The fact that Alexander was really Marc from two years ago? The fact that I was insanely attracted to him, that I had even thought the L-word? Those were distractions and I needed to remember that.

He gave me a tour. It turned out that his apartment wasn’t an apartment, per se, not by any conventional definition of the word. It encompassed all four floors of the square brick building. We started by taking an elevator to the roof, where there was a garden overflowing with flowers and small trees with actual oranges hanging off them. An ornamental fountain trickled water in the centre of a small clearing and there was seating around the edges. “It isn’t a proper garden, really,” he pointed out. “But I like to have a bit of green space. It helps me relax. There’s a large park not too far away, if you do want to go running or something.”

I looked up at him sharply at that, wondering if it was possible that he had recognized me. But his expression was friendly and interested. No one could be that good of an actor, I reassured myself. “That’d be nice,” I replied. “I’ll have to go shopping for a pair of running shoes though. I didn’t pack very well when I flew to Bangkok. I didn’t think I’d be running there.”

“I’ll have the driver take you to a store,” he promised.

We continued the tour. His bedroom took up most of the top floor and it was breathtaking. Floor to ceiling windows on three sides. Two doors were set into the fourth side. Sunlight streamed into the room and it was pleasantly toasty. In this room, there were comfortable couches, colourful rugs and a sense of warmth. “I love your room,” I marvelled. This space was similar in feel to his house in the suburbs.

I felt at home in his bedroom. That was not good.

He smiled at me. “I drove the decorator crazy,” he offered. “I asked for worn leather couches that I could flop down in.” He looked at me intently. “And a bed with headboards and footboards for obvious reasons.”

I gulped. I could picture myself tied to his bed, spread-eagled on it. He would tease me endlessly and I would plead and beg for my orgasm. I would be entirely at his mercy and my body clenched in arousal at that thought.

One level down were the other bedrooms, including the one I was sleeping in. “Elodie’s quarters are also on this floor,” he said.

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