S unday came around.

It always did .

Normally, I looked forward to this particular day of the week, although if anybody from my old life knew why...actually, if anybody knew why, I'd be up a shit creek .

But today as the sun came up, shining in my eyes to wake me the way it tended to do, I didn't want to get up .

I'd spent half the damn night dreaming about Michelle .

I hadn't stayed at the hotel with her. I'd wanted to – wanted it pretty damn bad and because of that, I hadn't let myself .

She'd been sound asleep when I left, sometime just after three, and I'd almost gone back, but the very fact that I had such a hard time leaving had convinced me it was the right thing to do. I had no business getting that invested in a woman .

I had too much shit going on in my life .

Speaking of which ...

Without opening my eyes, I swiped out a hand and grabbed my phone from the small, utilitarian table by my bed. My apartment in the city was small. At this point, I could have afforded something bigger, but I banked every penny I earned because I had plans that didn't involve fucking for a living .

But there was a goal in mind first, and until that goal was achieved, nothing else mattered. That was another reason why I couldn't spend so much time thinking about Michelle .

Although after last night, I had figured one thing out...not thinking about her was proving to be harder than I would have guessed .

* * *

"S uck it, Whitley," I said, staring down at the dark head of the woman on her knees in front of me .

Whitley Grieve McCrane was one of my regulars. She had every other Sunday with me and she had a submissive streak a mile wide. Normally, that got me going just fine, because while I wasn't an all-out Dom, I definitely had a dominant streak, and I'd gone long enough without sex in my life that getting it, kink or not, was a good thing – but I definitely didn't mind the kink ,

Having a rich woman kneeling in front of me after she'd sweetly begged my permission to suck me off was straight out of a fantasy. I wasn't rich. Never mind the fact that I was doing okay now, but Whitley was and her shit-bag husband was even more so .

As for Whitley, her fantasy was in line with what she was doing – having a big, tattooed rough-looking guy like me order her to please him .

She was all but trembling with need .

And I was bored .

Oh, my dick was interested, and if it wasn't for the much-required condom, I could have probably come already .

Whitley took me in deeper, so far I could feel the head of my cock nudging the back of her throat .

As she started to pull back, I grabbed the high ponytail she wore on top of her head and pulled. "More ."

She obliged, but even when she started to swallow me, her throat muscles working around me, I still felt little interest. I started to pump against her, using her ponytail to hold her head steady. She moaned deep in her throat, the sound coming again and again, rhythmically .

"Enough," I said, pulling back. She made a disappointed sound. "Stand up." Once she did, I slid a hand down her torso .

We were in a boutique hotel, one known for its discretion. The room we always got was one done in an art deco style, all black and white, with a six foot bronze-framed mirror that stood by the bed .

The mirror was the main reason we got this room each time. Whitley stood in front of it, wearing nothing but a lace choker around her neck .

"You like that?" I asked, palming one of her breasts, watching my hands move on her body in the mirror .

"Yes, Sir. I do like it. I like it very much," she said, her voice so prim and so proper, it didn't quite fit with the reflection cast back at us by the mirror. The reflective pane revealed an image of me, a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes, muscled, with tattoos that climbed up his arms and one side of his neck. Whitley was smaller, her slender body sweetly curved, her long dark hair spilling down from the ponytail to sweep across her shoulders. Her breasts rose up and down rapidly, nipples pink and hard, her entire body flushed with want .

I slid my hand down the center of her body and cupped her pussy in my hand. Pushing two fingers inside her, I began to pump them. "What else do you like? Tell me, Whitley ."

"Watching," she said, her voice breathy now with need. "Sir, I like to watch what you do to me ."

That was the whole point of the mirror .

"Then why don't you look ?"

She opened her eyes and stared as I kicked her thighs apart and fisted my cock for a moment before rubbing it up against her ass. "And what about this? You like this ?"

"Yes, Sir. I like your cock. I want it inside me," she said, each word ragged. She gasped as I lifted her onto her toes and pushed inside .

"Lean forward," I ordered, plumping her breasts together and angling my body to nudge her into position .

Whitley caught her weight with her hands on the frame of the mirror. Her mouth fell open as she stared at her face. Twisting my hips, I thrust deep, cleaving through swollen tissues and burying myself deep inside her cunt .

She did it again when I reached around and folded back the protective hood that covered her clitoris. "Tell me what else you want, Whit." She moaned. I spanked her. "That's not an answer ."

Whitley cried out at the feel of my hand striking her flesh, bouncing up on her toes in surprise .

"What else do you like, Whitley ?"

"Sir...you know ." She wiggled and pressed her butt back against me .

"It doesn't matter what I know," I growled. "It matters what you tell me. Tell me now or you don't get it." I spanked her again, then stroked my finger lazily over the soft skin of her ass .

"It's dirty, Sir," she whispered. "Don't make me say it ."

"You have to make me understand. Otherwise...well, I'm not a mind-reader ."

She let go of the mirror with one hand and reach back, pulling on the globe of her ass, spreading her cheeks .

"I see." I pressed my thumb against the tight circle of her anus. "You want me here ."

"Yes." She wiggled and pushed against me, taking the tip of my thumb inside .

There had been a time when this would have cranked me up so hot, I would have had to fight the urge to come. But I was bored. So fucking bored .

I didn't let her see. "You want me to put my prick in there. Tell me that's what you want, Whit ."

"I want your prick in there, Sir." She moaned as I pressed against her, then sobbed as I pulled back then pulled away entirely .

"Good girl," I told her .

I had her on the bed a minute later. She was face down with her ass in the air while I lubricated her with my fingers then took care of myself .

She cried out as I entered her, squealing that it hurt .

I spanked her lightly. "You told me you wanted this ."

Whitley whimpered, "Sir, it hurts !"

She had a safe word if it got too intense, but she had never used it .

"Then what do you want me to do, sugar?" I asked, withdrawing before surging forward .

"Give me more... please ."

"Play with that pretty pink pussy," I ordered, flexing my hips and thrusting deeper. She did, and by the time I was halfway inside her, she was already shuddering and shaking around my dick. She would be coming in minutes .

Keeping one hand spread wide on the base of her back, I stroked a little bit deeper. She shuddered in reaction, arching her spine. It forced my cock deeper, and the snug heat of her tight ass felt good .

The pretense fell away, and Whitley moaned out my name. "Oh, Jake, please ."

I gripped her hips, steadying her as I thrust forward deeper. She cried out and I tensed, waiting. But Whitley said nothing, just kept up those raw, hungry moans, and I moved harder, faster .

She thrashed against me as the climax hit her, hard and fast. Catching her ponytail, I pulled her up onto her knees and bit her neck. "Again, Whitley. You know that's not good enough for me." I caught one of her wrists and guided it between her thighs .

She went still, then began to rock back and forth between her hand and the cock invading her ass. I'd come after she came again. Or a second. Hell, maybe even a third time .

She collapsed forward, and I eased her down, then pulled out, holding the condom in place as my cock popped free from the snug grip of her ass .

Whitley rolled on to her side and smiled up at me, and I had to remind myself to smile back. "I'm going to clean up," I said, turning away instead of bending down to give her a kiss like I normally would have .

In the bathroom, I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. I didn't bother asking myself what the problem was. I already knew .

Michelle.

She was my problem – and that just meant I had an even bigger problem .