Chapter 2
Kate had no idea where she was. Most women would be distressed by that, but for her, it was as familiar as donning her old school uniform. When she was a teenager, drinking and smoking sticky lumps of weed was the only thing that numbed her boiling hyperactivity. She had been a fifty-five-kilogram girl with the drug tolerance of a Keebler elf, so she passed out a lot. Once, at a house party, she’d climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom and fallen asleep on the carpet. Brent’s mother had found her the next day and they’d both screamed fit to bring the house down. Another time she’d blacked out in the bathroom at a Chinese restaurant and had to be carried out by one of the cooks. Ritalin had proved itself a much better mood-modifier than vodka UDL’s or home-grown cannabis, but it lowered her alcohol tolerance even more.
She couldn’t quite remember why she’d decided to drink tonight, but it was clear her inner lightweight had decided to re-emerge. She prodded her face and body for injuries and found none. That was good. She was fully dressed. Also good. Her back ached. She felt around herself. She appeared to be lying on a ridiculously hard couch. But where? And for what reason? Had she gone out and crashed at some stranger’s place? As her eyes adjusted to the dark she realised the room seemed familiar, familiar and yet somehow new as well…
“Hotel room!” She sat bolt upright. “Bendigo! Hotel room! I was nervous because it’s my first work trip! That’s why I was drinking!”
She smiled into the darkness, quite proud she’d managed to remember where she was and that she’d found her way back to her hotel suite, safe and sound. But that didn’t quite add up. If she made it back to her hotel room, why was she on the couch?
A low grunting moan came from across the room. She looked over and gasped, a little theatrical gasp that sounded like it was for show. There was a man in her hotel bed, or an enormous woman. Or a really big dog.
The thing emitted another grumbling noise, a man, definitely a man. How had he gotten here? Kate patted herself on the head, willing the thoughts to return. Had she broken her years-long dry spell and hooked up? If so, why was she on the couch with all her clothes on? She tried to retrace her steps, think back to whether or not she’d met anyone, but she could only picture the pub; old and dingy with a faded burgundy carpet. She had arrived with the other GGS employees, sitting at the edge of the group listening to the men discuss what was better—chicken schnitzel or chicken parmigiana. Tyler Henderson had been at the head of the group, his face set and his hair gleaming gold. He said very little and drank a lot. He glanced away whenever she spoke .
That he didn’t like her always would have hurt. That he didn’t like her and she was so hopelessly attracted to him burned. In the kind of all-encompassing obsession she’d only ever read about in books, but unlike books, her obsession never went anywhere or did anything. She just got sweaty palms whenever she saw him and it made her work-life very awkward.
Her obsession wasn’t even original. Everyone had a crush on Tyler Henderson. Women, gay men, straight men, more perceptive animals. It was like having a crush on a Hemsworth brother—it made you basic as hell.
Charisma, Kate had once written in an email to herself, means people are attracted to you no matter what their type normally is. It means being so compelling you transcend what people think they want and have them want you anyway. Tyler Henderson has that more than anyone I’ve ever met. Consequently, my crush on Tyler Henderson is lame and I need to get over it right now.
She’d signed the email and sent it to herself. But despite what she learned in self-development audiobooks, writing it down did not help her achieve that particular goal. If she closed her eyes she could picture him perfectly—tall and handsome as a captain in a military movie. Authority emanated from him like radiation. When he spoke, his words appeared to carry more weight than anyone else’s, as though they were made of gold. Everyone looked up to him, everyone wanted his approval. That Kate didn’t have it was a huge X beside her name when it came to her GGS status. Ty’s dislike of her seemed to predate anything she’d said or done. Her first week with GGS, they were approaching one another from opposite sides of a hallway and she’d tried to make conversation the only way she knew how. She whipped the lid of her baking tin off and smiled. “Hello, Mr Henderson, would you like a lemon-curd meringue?”
First, he had looked at her like she was a penguin that had learned how to talk, then his lip curled with the mild distaste she would come to know well. “No thanks,” he said, but his eyes delivered another message. You are stupid. Lemon-curd is stupid. Meringues are stupid. Stop talking to me and never do it again in your life.
Kate tried to oblige as much as possible.
It didn’t seem fair. Of all the men to instantly hate her, why did it have to be one who dressed like a French billionaire and smelled the way her first orgasm felt? Who had a voice like hot gravel and was so well travelled he made David Attenborough look like her mum? She’d have thought his dislike was garden variety sexism but Ty was famous (in an industry where referring to your wife as ‘the old ball and chain’ was still considered hilarious) for his progressive views. He frequently shut down regressive conversations with a curt, “if you feel that way, go join ISIS.” He was even, it was whispered in the darkest of office corners, a socialist.
Why would a socialist hate her so much? She loved sharing. That was what the lemon-curd meringues were all about. Kate exhaled, bringing her attention back to the mystery man in her bed. She needed to focus on something other than Tyler Henderson. She tried to replay her time at the pub. She’d sat there for hours while the men around her drank steadily and she’d been so bored she’d secretly ordered a vodka raspberry. No one noticed so she’d ordered another one, then another one. Once she was pleasantly buzzed, she’d gotten up and started playing the pinball machine. It had a dragon on it. She’d been feeding the slot another dollar when…
The image of young guy burst into her mind—a nice smile, curly hair and massive shoulders. “Aha! Rugby Boy!”
The man in her bed let out a groan.
“Ooh, sorry!”
Rugby Boy groaned again, and Kate clapped her hands over her mouth. She remembered now. Rugby Boy had reminded her of the guys from home, sweet and countrified but without the surfer’s tan and sea-salt hair. He offered her a drink with such puppy dog eagerness, she’d said yes without even thinking about it.
As the night wore on and she became tinglier with alcohol, Kate had decided it was time to try again and that if Rugby Boy tried to kiss her, she would let him. He tried. His kisses had been toothy and a little too wet, but he was confident and attractive, and his body was as hard as stone. She decided she wanted to go home with him. That was where her memory reel ended, but Kate could pretty much piece the story together from there. She and Rugby Boy had come back to her room, one or both of them had decided she was too drunk for sex, and then she’d offered him her bed as a consolation prize. It was kind of unchivalrous of Rugby Boy to have taken it, but hell, this was meant to be a one-night stand. What could you expect?
Kate studied the man-bulge in her bed. It was a shame they hadn’t consummated their encounter, they might have had fun together. She had been thinking about sex all day. She’d have loved to blame that on ovulation, but the truth was being in such close confines with Tyler Henderson made it hard not to think about sex. There was something strangely intimate about seeing him in jeans and a plaid shirt, socialising with other men and nursing straight liquor in a pub like a cowboy. As she kissed Rugby Boy, she’d thought she’d felt his gaze on her. The mere idea had gotten her ridiculously excited. She knew how weird that was, she had hoped sleeping with Rugby Boy might go some way toward helping her with her dumb crush.
It still might. Maybe you just need to get into that bed and show him you’re sober and up for it?
It would be so unlike her, but that made the idea more appealing, not less. Why couldn’t she get into bed with Rugby Boy and see if he was still keen? Previous experience with any and all males said he would be.
Careful not to make too much noise, she stripped off her shoes, tights and skirt and crept toward the bathroom. There, she rubbed a little hotel toothpaste on her tongue and wiped away the black mascara smudges under her eyes. She wished she’d unpacked her bag so she could reapply concealer but she didn’t want Rugby Boy to wake up and find her rummaging through her bags like a possum in a compost bin.
Studying herself in the mirror, she pushed her shoulders back and tried to strike a sexy pose. She looked like a kid in her mum’s high heels, like she was pretending to be the woman she actually was. All her life she’d been, in the words of her friend Maria, very cute. There were infinitely worse things to be, but sometimes she longed for obvious signs of womanhood—big boobs, round hips, a butt of any kind. Still, there was nothing she could do about that, aside from spending all her money injecting loads of foreign materials into her body, but screw that. Robbed of big tits, Kate tousled her hair (her favourite attribute) and pouted her lips (second favourite). Then she removed her bra and shot her mirror-self her sultriest look. With some nipple action happening under her t -shirt, she looked kind of slutty, which she supposed was as good as it was going to get.
The main room was dim, the only light source moonlight filtering through the curtains. Rugby Boy was sleeping on his side facing away from her. She slipped into the bed and wrapped an arm around his cotton-covered middle (he’d gone to sleep in his t-shirt, how adorable). Rugby Boy smelled amazing, hot and manly in a way that made her light-headed with horniness. Was that from his scent alone, or some kind of muscle memory from all the kissing they’d done at the pub?
The guy tensed, shifting against her. “Unhh?”
“Hi,” she whispered. “It’s just me. Sorry for being such a mess before. I don’t normally get that way.”
The Guy let out a grunt of what was clearly resentment, mingled with please-fuck-offness. He probably hadn’t been jazzed about going to bed horny while she laid on the couch like a log. Well, she knew just how to make this situation right. Kate slid her hands down his chest and had barely passed his navel when she felt his semi-hard cock. She ran her hand up and down it, gently squeezing the springy flesh. Weird how nothing in the world felt like penises except penises. Rugby Boy let out a muffled groan. His shaft stiffened, forcing her curled palm to expand. Erect, his penis was approximately the width of a baseball bat, properly and ridiculously huge. “What the heck…?”
Rugby Boy made a sound of protest and Kate realised she’d let go. She re-gripped his swollen shaft, slowly beginning to tug. He gave a contented moan and then tensed. “No,” he mumbled. “You’re…blacked out.”
“That was before,” Kate said, pleased he remembered. “I promise I’m excellent now. Just let me make it up to you.”
A hard-skinned hand closed over hers, pulling her away from his erection. “You dunnoweme ‘nything.”
It was a little mortifying to be told to let go of someone’s dick. Ordinarily, Kate would have stopped. She’d have rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but she didn’t want to. She felt uncharacteristically bold. After all, Rugby Boy didn’t know her. He didn’t know she’d spent her whole life being called a wallflower and a prick-tease. For all he knew, she was Maria, the kind of woman who could seduce a man with her eyebrows and knew exactly what to do with an arm-penis. Her heart racing, she pressed her lips into the back of his neck, where his scent was especially sweet. “Maybe I want to owe you something,” she said in a voice so sexy she could hardly believe it was hers.
Rugby Boy’s body stiffened against hers. “Like what?”
Before Kate could psych herself out, she slid down the bed, climbing over his hard thighs so that she was face-to-penis with his penis. It was even more intimidating up close, not to mention stretching the hell out of his expensive-looking briefs. Why would anyone have a cock this big? Like, genetically? Surely it was more of a burden than anything else?
Never mind that. Concentrate on befriending it.
She inhaled the warm sweat-and-salt smell, amazed that something that should have been so nasty made her body buzz with excitement. “Can I use my mouth on you?”
“Yeah, but—oh fuuuck.”
If Kate’s lips weren’t occupied, she’d have smiled. For his token protesting, Rugby Boy was silent as she nuzzled him through his underwear. Then he rolled onto his back to give her better access, spreading his arms wide across the mattress. Kate crouched between his legs, kissing and rubbing everything until Rugby Boy pulled up his t-shirt. The head of his cock extended beyond his briefs, lying heavily on his ridged stomach.
Kate was glad they were working up to revealing his whole dick slowly. If Rugby Boy had just whipped out his massive dong, she’d have run away. Now it was kind of familiar to her, it was easier to deal with. She placed her lips around the swollen head and applied a tight sucking pressure.
Rugby Boy grunted like a wounded bull. Still feeling exceptionally bold—and a little bit bratty—Kate released the head of his cock and resumed playing with what was covered by his briefs just to see what he would do.
Rugby Boy didn’t say anything but he started breathing hard enough to blow a little pig’s house down, huffing and puffing as his cock swelled against his underwear until it looked fit to burst.
Kate could feel herself getting wet, her body priming itself in a way it had never done when she was with one of the other two men she’d done this with. She knew she was toying with him, but she couldn’t help herself, it was so sexy. She tugged down his briefs inch by inch and applied light, sucking kisses to his skin before gently licking everything that was exposed like an icy pole she wanted to last hours. She could sense Rugby Boy’s growing need, and it made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. At any moment he might reach a breaking point, seize her hair and growl that he was going to punish her for teasing him. Her backside tingled at the thought and she blushed, glad the darkness concealed her face.
Sexually inexperienced as she might be, Kate was and always had been kinkier than a bag of zig-zags. It felt like she’d been born that way, craving things she didn’t understand way before she reached sexual maturity. The dad in Taken had a particular set of skills, she had a particular set of fantasies. Unlike her, they weren’t polite, they weren’t nice, and they didn’t leave when they were asked. Instead, they dominated her romantic desires so fully she couldn’t have an orgasm without thinking about spanking or date a nice, vanilla bank manager called Paul. Her fantasies steered her, full-force, toward men like Tyler Henderson, near-mythical embodiments of male authority who—surprise, surprise—weren’t the slightest bit interested in having very depraved sex with her.
In her effort to rid herself of this handicap, Kate had tried celibacy, therapy, self-loathing, and prayer; it was no use. Her kinks were like that weirdly sinister kindergarten rhyme about the teddy bear picnic and the thick dark mud that deterred attendees. Her kinks chanted in her ear; ‘you can’t go under it, you can’t go over it, you have to go through it.’ So, she went through it. Not as proudly as she’d liked, but she went through it. She had an account on a kinky personals website, even though the only messages she ever got were from nutcases and couples looking to have a threesome. She went on dates with nice, attractive guys and when the time came for them to go to bed, she told them what she liked, even though it usually resulted in bad foreplay followed by a ghosting. She understood where they were coming from. That she wanted a man to smile with pleasure as he caused her pain was weird to her, too.
In bed with this big stranger, Kate gave herself permission to pretend. She teased Rugby Boy and imagined him growing frustrated enough to make her comply with his demands, to lay her across his lap and blister her backside. To call her the things she longed to hear. She was so lost in her fantasy that when a heavy hand descended on her head she was so startled she let out a yelp.
“Enough,” a rasping voice told her. “Suck it. Now.”
Kate had half-forgotten Rugby Boy could talk, but he had a beautiful voice all dark and deep as a marble quarry. She frowned. “What?”
“Happy to play with it, weren’t you? Well, my dick’s not a toy. You’ve wound me up good, now it’s time to finish what you started.”
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing a ridiculously defined chest, then he yanked down his briefs one-handed. His cock slapped down onto his bare stomach—thick as Thor’s hammer. “Put your mouth on it.”
Kate body thrummed with nerves. Was this really happening? Was she finally in bed with a man who could give her what she wanted? She edged forward, brushing her mouth across his shaft, testing him. Rugby Boy’s palm became a fist in her hair. “I told you we’re done playing. Wrap your hand around my dick.”
A shiver went down Kate’s spine. She immediately cupped her hand around the base of his cock. “Like this?”
“Harder. Tight as those little fingers can go.”
Kate complied, trusting she probably couldn’t hurt him without some kind of utensil in her hand.
“Very nice.” Rugby Boy’s said in a rasping tone. “Now put your lips around me, I need to come.”
She shivered. It was hard to tell if he was playing her game or just being a bit of a dick, but she decided she didn’t care. It felt real and that was all that mattered. She opened her mouth and leaned down to start sucking when Rugby Boy put a big palm in her face.
Kate paused. “You don’t want me to anymore?”
Her nameless lover lay there, breathing hard, his cock throbbing in her hand. Even in the darkness, she could see a pearly drop was welling at the tip. She bent around his hand and sucked it away. Rugby Boy hissed like a cut snake. “Fuck it.”
His rough hand cupped her cheek and urged her mouth onto his cock. Kate swallowed as much as she could. His cock felt like she had a smooth tennis ball between her teeth, one she knew would be far less forgiving of bites.
Oh, Rugby Guy’s penis, she thought, sucking hard. I’m sure you have a long and illustrious career of making women happy in front of you, but tonight, please let it be my turn.
“Deeper,” he growled. “More.”
She slicked him down with her tongue and, inhaling deeply, tried to take him deeper. He was so large she was practically unhinging her jaw. Her digestive system, no doubt confused by her attempt to swallow an entire leg of ham, was producing an unworldly amount of saliva. Spit began to run through her fingers, smelling and tasting of toothpaste and raspberry lemonade.
“That’s it, that’s good.” Rugby Boy sounded tense, almost pissed off, and his hand was still tight in her hair. Kate thrilled over those things the way a normal girl might thrill over gentle kisses and soft words. She began to experiment with her grip, using both hands and her mouth. As she played around with her technique, the man attached to the penis was silent, his hand rising and falling with her head. Kate was a little disappointed, she’d been hoping for more dirty talk, but this was okay. It made him seem careless, a lazy lordly type who was content listening to the sloppy sounds of her mouth and enjoying how humiliatingly eager she was.
Her mind, as it sometimes did in these moments, wandered to Tyler Henderson. She didn’t know if any real dominant tendencies lay behind his commanding façade, but the idea that they might did stuff to her. Whenever she was struggling to finish herself, she slotted him into her fantasies and she was there within seconds. Unable to help herself, she did it now.
“You horny little slut,” she imagined him saying as he thrust into her throat. “You like staring at me? Imagining me fucking your needy little body? This is what you deserve.”
Kate moaned, the razor blade of wrongness grating oh-so-pleasurably against the whetstone of her arousal. She felt kind of bad for pretending Rugby Boy was someone else, but who was to say he wasn’t picturing the Hadid sisters or Ansel Elgort or something? She began moving her mouth and hands even faster, needing him to finish, needing to be a good girl.
Rugby Boy’s fist tightened in her hair. “You like suckin’ dick, huh?”
Kate confirmed her liking-ness with a moan.
“Tell me you like it. Say my name.”
Uh oh.
Kate sucked deeper, hoping to override the question with sheer blowjob excellence, but Rugby Boy pulled on her hair so that she released him with a ‘pop.’ “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“You tell me you like it, right now a nd you say my name while you do it.”
Oh geez. Kate began flipping through a mental Rolodex of possible names. Sean was a common name. Statistically, there was a good chance he was called Sean. Should she call him Sean? No, she shouldn’t call him Sean. Maybe she could give him a cute epithet instead. ‘I like sucking your cock, babe.’
No, not babe. ‘Handsome,’ or ‘sexy’ didn’t seem right either. But what the hell did that leave? High Commissioner? Lord and Savior? Mine Führer?
“I’m waiting,” he snarled.
Panic rose in her gut and it occurred to her; this was a one-night stand; she could call Rugby Boy what she always wanted to call the men she was in bed with. It might freak him out, but she wasn’t going to see him again. And surely, since she was sucking him off, he could cut her some slack in the name-calling department? Kate smiled up at the shadow she assumed was his face. “I like sucking your cock, Daddy.”
Rugby Boy’s body went rigid. The hand in her hair fell limply to her side. Kate’s cheeks grew hot, and she wondered whether she should try to force down her shame using his cock as a plunger, or sit up, wipe her mouth and try to explain that what she’d said had nothing, not one thing, to do with incest.
Before she could decide on either, his hand rose, clasping her hair once more. “Say that again.”
Kate’s heart leapt into her mouth. Was he angry? Was he going to yell at her? “I-I like sucking your cock.”
“Little girl.” His voice was icy with disdain. “Say what you just called me again.”
But she couldn’t. Instead she asked, “Are you mad at me?”
There was a silence more loaded than all the guns in a gun-nut’s gun locker. Then he spoke. “No, but I want you to say it again.”
“But I—”
“Not what I want to hear, sweetheart.” He gently forced her head back, not hard, but firm. His manhandling and the sense of powerlessness it arose in her made Kate quiver .
How did you know? she wanted to ask. I never told you, how did you know? But, she supposed in the scheme of things that didn’t matter as much as following orders. She swallowed. “I like sucking your cock, Daddy.”
Rugby Boy let out a furious growl forced her head down.
“Suck,” he demanded. “Put your lips around it and suck.”
She opened her mouth and engulfed him like a sword swallower. He moaned and within seconds he was—there was no other phrase for it—riding her face, thrusting into her mouth with a ferocity that both frightened and aroused her. It was all she could do to keep her jaw wide and not to bite him as he worked himself between her lips. He wasn’t silent anymore, he was making the hottest noises Kate had ever heard, shallow inhales and muttered curse words as though he both loved and hated what she was doing to him.
It’s happening, she thought as she hummed to keep herself from choking. I met Rugby Boy, and it turned out he’s The Boy, the instantly perfect sex partner every woman hopes to meet but never finds. This is how Lief from Deltora Quest felt when he realised he was the king, probably.
She arched her back, her inner muscles clenching on nothing, and she knew for the first time in her life that she was going to have an orgasm with another person. He didn’t have to ask her about her favourite positions or go down on her until his jaw was numb, if he so much as breathed on her pussy she would—
“Coming.” Rugby Boy reached down and cupped her right breast. “Coming in your tight little throat.”
Kate barely had time to moan her eagerness before he convulsed against her tongue, jamming himself as deep as he could and swearing fit to make a nun blush. Kate choked a little but kept swallowing, her need to please outweighing the needs of her soft palate. His taste was hot and clean, like freshly tumble dried t-shirts.
He withdrew from her mouth, his big fingers brushing clumsily down her cheek. “Good. Good girl.”
It was a sign of how twisted she was that Kate couldn’t remember ever being so proud. She bent to lick him clean, but Rugby Boy pulled away. “That’s enough.”
He tugged up his briefs and collapsed back onto the bed, his unsteady panting the only sign he’d just violently orgasmed in her mouth. Kate licked her lips. Was it over now? Was Rugby Boy the kind of guy who lost interest the minute he was done? Her one and only ex-boyfriend had been like that, and it had frustrated the hell out of her. Bossy ‘you serve me’ selfishness turned her on, but there was nothing sexy about almost cracking your jaw open to please someone and getting nothing in return. Maybe he wasn’t her perfect sex man after all.
A hairy thigh nudged her shoulder. “Come up here.”
Kate clambered up the bed, tracing her tongue over her teeth, trying to clean her mouth as much as possible. Rugby Boy shuffled back so he was sitting against the headboard, then seized her hips and sat her on top of his thighs. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Kate still couldn’t see him properly, but being this close was making her shy. She cast her eyes downwards, feeling fragile. She’d called a man ‘daddy.’ She’d never done that in real life before. Rugby Boy stroked her arms, his palms rough as tan-bark. Weird that a student had such rough hands but Kate had never been touched by a rugby player before. Maybe they all had hands like that.
“That was good work,” Rugby Boy told her. “Best head I’ve had in a long while.”
She smiled, still unable to look at him. Without warning, he slid a hand between her legs and inspected the state of her underwear. “You’re soaking,” he remarked, sounding mildly surprised. As though he’d looked out the window on a cloudless day to see it was drizzling. “You want a little something, sweetheart?”
Kate nodded, then a rough finger forced her chin up. “Can’t hear you.”
“Yes, I want something,” she whispered, adoring him more than was strictly necessary.
“Good girl.”
Without warning Rugby Boy shoved her wet panties aside and slid a large fingertip through her folds, dipping himself inside her. Kate cried out at the sudden compression of such swollen skin. She gripped Rugby Boy’s thick shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s it, hold onto me.” A broad thumb placed itself against her clit. There was no preamble about it, no fuss. He began to stroke her sensitive nerves with the light, precise brushes of a master painter. “I’m gonna make you come like this, okay?”
No ‘try.’ No ‘do my bests.’ Just ‘gonna,’ like her orgasm was a foregone conclusion. It was presumptuous and cocky and Kate could only whimper her agreement and hope like hell he was right.
Approximately ten seconds later she was riding his hand, gasping and moaning and humping his fingers like the most shameless slut on earth. The sopping wet sounds her motions were creating was embarrassing—but she still couldn’t stop. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He didn’t seem at all concerned that he’d hurt her, that he would fail to get her off. That confidence was so attractive she could barely stand it. When blended with his finger-skills, his scent and the memory of his cock, Kate knew this was going to be the most memorable, sexual encounter of her life. Her engineer brain started whirring, trying to figure out how she could replicate this experience when she was alone, and the answer was—she couldn’t, not in a million years, not unless fully automated sex-robots arrived two hundred years earlier than predicted.
“Say it again,” Rugby Boy growled, frigging her. “Say it.”
This time Kate knew exactly what he wanted to hear. “Daddy,” she moaned. “Daddy.”
“That’s it gorgeous, keep saying it.”
Orgasms were like mountains, they had summits. Usually, when Kate was with another person, her arousal didn’t leave base camp one. She could carry herself a little higher using Sherpas—thoughts of men like Tyler Henderson spanking her, tying her down and using her as they saw fit–but the idea of reaching the pinnacle was laughable. She never orgasmed, except alone in her bed with all the time in the world and no expectations except her own. Tonight, that was different. Tonight she had wings and was speeding up the slopes in an icy blur. Her body was trembling, sweat beading on her back and between her breasts and she was going to come, she could feel it in her bones. And yet, no sooner had she thought that than the delicious buzz between her legs vanished.
“Daddy.” It was an involuntary cry, a plea that he wouldn’t let this end without her finding some satisfaction.
Rugby Boy’s fingers closed around her nipple. “You horny, sweetheart? You wanna finish?”
“Yes.” Please help me do it, Rugby Boy. Please?
His fingers curled inside her, thick and unrelenting. “Concentrate, focus on how I feel inside your tight little snatch. Nothing else matters. I’m not going to stop. I’m going to keep fucking you with my fingers until you gush all over me, understand?”
There was something familiar about his words, as though he’d stolen them from a favourite movie, but maybe that was just because they were perfect. Kate was here, living a lifelong fantasy, why couldn’t she come? She worked hard, ate her greens, and gave money to Greenpeace, why couldn’t she have an orgasm with another person, just this once?
“I understand,” she told Rugby Boy, then screwed up the last of her courage. “Can you…keep talking to me please, Daddy?”
“Of course I can.” He began to move his fingers faster, his free hand tugging her aching nipple through her t-shirt. Kate closed her eyes, and she felt the gears slowly begin to turn, tightening, galvanising. The potential for orgasm was drumming inside her, and she honed in on it, trying to make herself as aware as possible.
She’d met a hot stranger who liked being called ‘daddy’ and who knew exactly what to do to turn her on. It was like the universe had conspired to let her come, all she had to do was embrace it. Rugby Boy’s fingers bit down on her nipple, and the pain was as lovely as the sizzle of pleasure that shot down to her groin. “I really like that.”
He chuckled darkly. “I know you do, I can feel you tightening up around my fingers. You gonna finish all over me, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said and meant it.
Rugby Boy let out an angry sounding moan. “God, I’m fuckin’ hard again.”
The wonder in his voice made Kate think this wasn’t a regular thing. That was odd, she’d have assumed most young guys could get it up twice. Then again, she’d barely had sex, so what did she know?
As he rolled his thumb over her clit, Kate had a beautiful realisation. As unbelievable as Rugby Boy’s finger skills were, they could two-birds-one-stone this situation. She wanted to have sex with him, and if she did, she could try and have the orgasm simmering in her pelvis on his magnificent dick. That would be a double victory. She pressed her mouth against Rugby Boy’s ear. “Do you want to have sex now?”
He let out another furious grunt, his fingers pumping deeper. “No.”
“But I really want to feel you inside me. You’re so big.”
“Too bad,” he said, but his breathing had become painfully laboured again. Kate was half-convinced this was a test, that he was teasing her as she had been teasing him. She assumed her most innocent tone. “Please, Daddy?”
Rugby Boy made a noise like a wild animal. “Fuck, you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
Kate, sensing she was about to get her way, added a little more sugar to her voice. “Yes, and I know it’s bad but I want it. I want you.”
Rugby Boy muttered something that sounded like ‘why isn’t anything ever easy?’ Before she could ask, he pulled his fingers from her soaking slit. “Fine, you want my dick, you’ll get it.”
Kate bit back a jubilant ‘Yessssss!’ “How do you want to do this? Do you have a condom? I don’t think I have a condom.”
“Sweetheart…” Rugby Boy cupped her jaw. Kate could smell herself on his fingers.
“What?”
She felt him shake his head. “Nothing. I’ll fuck you, but you’ll get back down there and suck me first. Get me nice and hard for you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, the word getting easier with each and every use.
“Good, and take your fucking fingers away from there.”
Kate, who hadn’t even realised she was rubbing her clit, had her hand snatched away.
“That’s mine.” Rugby Boy ran a finger through the wet line of her cunt. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine. Now, get me ready.”
Kate propped herself on all fours between his legs, almost delirious with pleasure. Who knew that in Bendigo (population: ha-ha-ha) there lived the sex partner of her dreams? As she bent down and took him into her mouth, she began planning excuses for return visits. Maybe she could schedule an engineering job up here? It was out of the way, but he was worth it. The question was, would he be interested? Determined to prove her mettle, she took him as far into her throat as she could.
“That’s it.” His big hand braced itself around her jaw, as though testing how wide she could open her mouth. “Suck Daddy’s big cock.”
Rugby Boy calling himself that most treasured and lust-inspiring of titles made sweat break out on Kate’s neck. As she sucked she heard foil crackle and her heart leapt. She’d been worried about interrupting all the hotness to ask about condoms again, but it was clear Rugby Boy wasn’t going to be a jerk about this. She reminded herself to feel around the base of his shaft before he slid inside her, to make sure it was on. She’d learned about the stealthing movement at derby practise. It was real and it was terrifying.
“Just a little more,” Rugby Boy coached. “Just a little deeper and I’ll ride your pussy, Middleton.”
Kate sucked harder, tasting small surges of salty pre-come. She felt uneasy, as though his short sentence had been a threat. She replayed his words in her mind. Just a little more. Just a little deeper and I’ll ride your pussy, Middleton.
Middleton. Why would Rugby Boy call her Middleton? She had a lot of nicknames, but each one was restricted to a specific group of people. She called herself Kate. Her family called her Katie. Her roller derby team called her Macca, the Australian appellation for anyone with a McLastname. Her derby name was Princess Bleach. Her Aunt Rhonda had called her KJ. Only the guys at work called her Middleton. Only the guys at work…
Kate felt like she’d been plunged into a dunk tank full of nitrogen. She remembered showing Rugby Boy pictures of Kate Middleton on her phone because the nickname confused him, he’d heard it because Tyler Henderson had been there. Tyler Henderson had been there.
Kate suddenly knew, knew with every fibre of her being that the guy whose dick she was sucking on wasn’t Rugby Boy. She sat up, woozy and terrified.
“What’s happening, Middleton?” In the dim light, Kate could see the stranger had a transparent disk of latex pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
He shifted, so the silvery brightness sifting through the curtains revealed his profile and now that she was looking, Kate recognised the nose, the line of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones. She was in bed with Tyler Henderson. Her boss. She’d blown her boss. She’d swallowed her boss’s semen. She’d called her boss ‘daddy.’ She was currently in the process of re-sucking stern, unfathomably attractive, thought she was the scum of the earth, Tyler Henderson.
“Hoooooaaaaaaaah!” Kate scrambled backward on the bed, flapping her hands as though they were covered in wasps. “Hoooaaaaahh!”
“Middleton?” Tyler Henderson glanced around the room, no doubt trying to pinpoint the reason for her sudden insanity. “The fuck’s happening?”
But Kate could only moan and say ‘hoooaahhh’ and wriggle backward. How could she have missed it? Even in the semi-darkness, the broad body was nothing like a twenty-year-old’s. It was thick with muscle and hairy across the middle and, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!”
“Middleton.” Ty’s voice punched through the air like a Ginsu knife. “Talk. To. Me.”
His voice was so familiar, liquid steel and molten lead. Why hadn’t she recognised him?
Kate pressed a hand to her chest. “Mr Henderson. It’s me, Kate. We’re…we’re hooking up!”
Everything went quiet. Kate could hear a cacophony of crickets chirruping outside the hotel window. She became profoundly aware of her half-naked body, her insanely wet panties and aching nipples. She’d done oral with Tyler Henderson. Kate hadn’t been a proper believer for years but the urge to drop to her knees and say the entire Hail Mary was overwhelming.
Ty spoke out of the darkness. “You didn’t know it was me, did you? You thought I was that fuckwit from the pub.”
“Er…yeah.”
There was another long silence, and Kate would have given anything, anything on earth, to rewind ten hours and instead of going to the pub, fall into a very big hole and die. “How…why are you in my hotel room?”
“This is my hotel room.” The soft malice in Ty’s voice sent a chill down Kate’s spine. “I brought you back here after you blacked out and I couldn’t find your room card .”
The floor seemed to shift beneath her bare feet. Tyler Henderson had known who she was the whole time. Of course he had, he’d called her Middleton, he’d knowingly let her blow him. Kate didn’t know whether to be flattered, disturbed, outraged, insulted or any other emotion on earth. “Mr Henderson, I don’t think you get it…I went down on you. And you touched me. And I went down on you and you came and I swallowed it.”
More painful silence. Kate wished she hadn’t put so much emphasis on the words ‘swallowed it.’
Ty pointed a ghostly hand towards the door. “This never happened. Get dressed and get back to your room, right fucking now.”
It was hard for Kate to find her clothes in the dark, but she didn’t turn on the light and neither did Ty. He remained in bed, silent and motionless as she pulled her skirt up her legs and tugged on her stiff Mary Janes. Her bra was still in the bathroom, but she decided to leave it behind, sacrifice it for the greater good. It felt like Tyler Henderson’s hotel room was running out of breathable oxygen. She scurried to the door and all but flung herself into the night air. The door slammed behind her, severing the experience into then and now. She dug her keycard out of her secret skirt pocket and ran toward her room. Her hands were trembling so hard she could barely swipe the card against the door. As soon as she was in her room she picked up her phone, desperate to unburden the horror of this situation on someone else, but there was only one person she could talk to about this, and at two a.m. on a Wednesday night, she’d be a jerk to call Maria. She sent her a message asking her to call once she was awake and took a long, hot shower that didn’t go an inch toward making her feel clean or calm. Despite the insanity of what had happened she was still so aroused it hurt. Her body, brought to the very brink of orgasm by her secret crush was taut as an elastic band. She lay down on the bed and ran a finger through her slit, carressing herself lightly the way Ty had, then stopped.
That’s mine. You don’t get to touch what’s mine.
She shivered and took her hand away, not letting herself question why, not letting herself think of anything at all. Instead, she put on her complimentary dressing gown, made herself a powder hot chocolate and settled on the bed to watch Scrubs. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.