Melissa

I can’t stop staring at the opal.

I was expecting months of hard work, months of giving my best just to feel him kiss me and mean it. I was expecting the angel hair quartz to be nothing more than an ice-breaker, a token hint that we have something in common.

I wasn’t expecting to be lying at his side with one of his prized collection gripped in my fingers a week later.

I’ve seen this stone.

Three across, two shelves down. I polished its little plinth last Tuesday.

I feel bold with this treasure in my hand. I feel like anything is possible. It really is lucky, I know it is.

And so am I.

“I love the suit,” I tell him. “But I’d love you more out of it, please.”

My voice is a whisper tinged with desperation as I reach for his tie. I pull it loose, and he kisses me as I push his jacket from his shoulders. My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, the opal still gripped in my palm as I sweep my hand over his chest.

He is beautiful.

He is everything.

My breath is shallow as he pushes me onto my back and kicks his trousers off. Skin on skin feels divine, his cock hard against my thigh as he lowers his mouth to my nipple. I stare at his mouth as he flicks his tongue, and it takes me by surprise as his fingers find my clit.

“You’re going to come for me until you’re exhausted,” he tells me, and I moan for him. His fingers sink inside, and I feel a pressure as he moves them. “Until you’re exhausted,” he repeats and I nod.

His fingers are fast and deep, the pressure inside grows intense, building higher and higher until I can’t keep still. My legs wriggle and my ass bucks from the bed, my throat making stupid groans as I grab at the sheets.

His arm pistons. I can hear how wet I am.

“Nice and wide,” he whispers, and I spread my legs for him as wide as they’ll go, not caring that I look like a frog. Not caring that my hair is sticking to my clammy forehead, or that I’m probably wearing more red lipstick on my chin than my mouth.

He kisses my belly as he lowers himself down the bed, and his arms wrap around my thighs and pull my pussy to his mouth.

He sucks. He sucks right on my tender clit with his fingers inside me, and it’s too much.

I grip his hair as I come, and he likes it, he growls at me and sucks harder. I wrap my legs around his shoulders and pin him tight, and he likes that too. He slides a finger into my ass as I buck for him, and I cry out over and over.

I worry as I catch my breath, worry that tonight should be about his pleasure, not mine. But his cock is so big as he gets up to retrieve his case, his eyes hungry as he unclasps it on the bed and takes out a massager.

He plugs it in behind the nightstand.

“Until you’re exhausted,” he says again, and turns it on.

The big purple head of it buzzes. He trails it across my tits and it vibrates all the way through me. It tickles my belly on the way down, and I’m already crazy when it reaches my clit, already hissing as I know what’s coming.

He lies at my side, my thigh sandwiched between his, his cock at my hip as he presses the massager tight against me. He nuzzles my neck, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath warm and raspy.

“I want to know what turns you on,” he tells me. “You’re going to tell me.”

“This…” I whisper, and he nips my ear.

“I want to know what you think about when you play with yourself.”

“You,” I tell him, and he nips me again.

“Don’t lie to me, Amy,” he growls, but I’m not. I tell him so.

He turns my face to his, and I tell him again.

“You. I play with myself and I think about you.”

“That’s…”

“Crazy,” I tell him, and I don’t care. “I know. But it’s true. And I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

He looks torn, and I hate that. I hate the way he’s fighting what he already knows.

“Why me?” he asks, and flicks up the speed of the massager. It makes me squirm.

“Because…” I begin, and I don’t know how to answer.

“Why?” he repeats.

But he’s too late, because I’m already tumbling, already riding the wave, my body a clammy wreck against his.

He doesn’t take the massager away, not even when I’m wriggling at the contact.

“You play with yourself and you think of me, why?”

“Because… because you’re… everything…” I breathe, and it’s such a stupid thing to say. He stares down so hard on me. “Last weekend… when you took me… it was everything… you took everything…”

He blinks, and I think I’ve got away with it.

“You… when you choked me… it felt so good…” I tell him. That gets a reaction. I feel his cock twitch against my hip. “And I want more… I want so much more… it’s not just… about the money…”

“Why are you here?” he growls, and his lips press to the corner of mine.

“Because… of you…” I hiss. “Only you…”

“And what if it wasn’t me who’d bought your exclusivity?”

“I wouldn’t be here…”

I don’t know if he believes me. I hope he does.

“You don’t even know me,” he says.

I meet his eyes. “I feel you,” I whisper, and I’m going all in. My clit is sending me insane. “And I think… I hope… I hope you feel it, too… because it’s crazy… but it’s true… I feel you…”

The only sound above the massager is my own raspy breath. He’s silent. And I can hardly look at him, can hardly face the rejection I know is coming.

Only it doesn’t.

“I think about you,” he tells me. “So I guess we’re both fucking crazy.” He breathes against my lips. “I’m dangerous,” he rasps. “My tastes are dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”

My eyes bore into his. “Do it,” I tell him. “Please… do it.”

He pauses for just a second, long enough to press his lips to mine.

And then he closes his fingers around my throat.

* * *

Alexander

I’m always controlled. Steady.

But when I clasp my fingers around her pretty throat this time, I’m neither.

My left hand is clumsy. My weight is precarious on my elbow as I cut off her air.

I keep the bodywand to her swollen little bud, piling on the pressure as she squirms and splutters and shivers for me.

The girl is fucking crazy. And so am I.

I feel the strain of her throat and it makes my balls tighten. Her airless mouth makes my cock twitch, and I want to fuck it. I really want to fuck it.

But not yet.

Her eyes are watery pools as I rise to sitting, and I have a great vantage point from here, staring down on her as she grips her thighs to stop herself fighting.

I wait until the last moment, until I feel her slipping into unconsciousness, and then I let her take one long gulp before I hitch onto my knees and plough my dick straight into her open mouth. She retches. I feel her throat constrict, and I love it. I fucking love it.

She’s wriggling under the massager as I shove my cock down her throat. I love the way it bulges for me. I run my fingers over her neck and I feel myself in there.

“You’re everything… you took everything….” Her words have fucking addled me. I’m riding the crazy train all the fucking way.

I ride her fucking throat with fucking everything.

I wait until she’s coming under the massager, her whole body fucking wired before I let myself shoot my load.

She coughs as I pull out, and my cum splatters down her chin, creamy white mixing with smeared lipstick.

She looks fucking beautiful.

I scoop it back into her mouth with my thumb. “Another gift,” I tell her, and she swallows. She swallows every drop and then she smiles.

I turn off the massager and she sighs in relief.

She flinches as I brush my thumb over her swollen clit, but she doesn’t stop me.

I’m getting the impression she’ll never stop me, no matter what I do.

The prospect that I’m going to find out fills me with fear and awe in equal measure.