A Dance for Him (7 page)

There are worse things in the world, after all, than being bought by Sebastian Morland!

I get out of my car. It’s a cool night, and I gather my coat around me, but I can feel the cool air give my wet nether parts a bit of a chill.

Such a strange feeling, that.

Meanwhile, he must have heard the car draw up, because by the time I make it up the steps, the door swings open.

It’s him.

CHAPTER TEN

“Hello, Ms. Lytton,” he says, “please come in. I’m glad you decided to come. I rather expected you might, but I’m delighted all the same.”

He’s dressed in the sort of preppy intellectual manner that’s typical for him, but this is the first time I’ve seen him with his sleeves rolled up. He’s got amazing forearms, broad, strong, muscular. Fuck, he
is
hot.

And so are my cheeks. I’m usually so cool and collected at the club, but my composure is failing me again, now that he’s looking at me with a hungry intensity I haven’t seen before, not even last week.

It’s a stare that makes me feel naked, even though I’m still dressed for now.

Speaking of which I probably should take off my coat!

He moves forward slightly, as though to help me out of it, but I hurriedly shrug it off, out of a strange embarrassment that I don’t even understand, and he retreats.

Damn.

I wouldn’t have minded him touching me, not at all. I could have taken my coat off more languidly, so that he’d have a chance to get close. Why am I pulling back?

It just feels awkward somehow. It was easy at the club, I knew what to do.

But I’m definitely out of my element here - I’m not used to this, to not being in control …

After I hand him my coat and he deposits it in the closet, he shows me in.

And, oh my God, it’s a bloody mansion. Plush and patrician, a bit old-fashioned, with heavy curtains and antique furniture that has that family heirloom look to it. Not to mention a beautiful curving wrought-iron staircase. The whole thing has old money and privilege written all over it.

It’s only after he smiles at me that I realise that my mouth has fallen open in surprise.

He must think he’s impressed me. Annoyed, I recompose my features to affect cool indifference - the last thing I want is for him to think that I’m intimidated, that I’ll be one of those girls who are easily dazzled by his money …

He removes an envelope from his pocket and hands it to me.

It’s still warm from his body heat …

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Lytton. You’ll find the cash in the envelope, feel free to check it.”

I decline to check it - I’m not going to stand here counting his money in front of him - and tuck it in my bag instead.

He smiles.

“Well, in that case, Ms. Lytton, if you’ll come with me into the living room.”

The living room?

I suppose that would give him a lot more deniability than if he’d just gone ahead and suggested his bedroom outright!

I’m so flustered that it’s only after we’ve gone into the living room that I realise that I’m already dressed for the part, that that’s probably why he’s been looking at me ravenously since I took off my coat.

There’s just something about this man that seems to render me incapable of rational thought …

He takes his seat on the couch, lounging back on it, staring at me appraisingly all the while.

The whole thing looks incredibly decadent, given the palatial surroundings - it feels rather like some sort of European movie about the idle rich and their sexual exploits, and despite my discomfort with the lushness of the place, I have to admit that the idea of Dr. Morland being some kind of pervy aristo is making me quite hot under the collar and wet between my legs …

“I take it you are ready to begin, Ms. Lytton? By the way, if there’s any music you want to have on, let me know, I can probably find it in my collection.”

He’s got his phone out and is looking at me expectantly.

Right, of course, I bet he has a state-of-the-art sound system too …

I hate it when men think they can impress me with their stuff. It happens all the time at the club, and it’s annoying to say the least.

It’s even more absurd when he does it, because he is so fucking hot to begin with he hardly needs to do that …

In any case, I pause for a moment - somehow, in all my excitement, I’d thought about what I would wear, and the moves I would pull, but I’d forgotten completely about the music.

What can I say, he just does something to my brain function …

And then, suddenly, an idea for throwing
him
off-balance occurs to me, and I can practically
feel
a mischievous gleam coming into my eye.

“How about we start with a bit of Marvin Gaye,” I say, with a studied nonchalance. “
Sexual Healing
, maybe, and then
Let’s Get It On
?”

It works. He grins roguishly, but not before a brief pause in which he actually looked quite startled and uncertain, as though wondering if I was dropping a hint, or if that was just coincidence.

“At your service, Ms. Lytton.”

Fuck. Now it’s my turn to wonder if he was replying to my music request or if he meant more by it …

As he fiddles with his phone, I start looking around for objects I could use as support, and so by the time the music starts I’m leaning against a nearby wall and gazing sultrily at Dr. Morland as I suck suggestively on my finger.

He raises an eyebrow, but he’s clearly not immune to that visual - he adjusts his position and loosens his collar, and his cheeks are definitely redder than when I first started out.

It’s now my turn to smile triumphantly at him, now that I’m back in the saddle, so to speak, back on semi-familiar ground.

I dance my way over to him, so that I’m in front of him, and run my hands over my body sensually as I return his avid gaze.

Because he can’t take his eyes off me - as it is, he seems to be having trouble deciding whether to look at my eyes or my boobs, which I’m currently massaging as I pout seductively at him.

I climb onto the couch, kneeling so that his legs are between mine and his face is just in front of my breasts.

Just the right position for me to tease him with my tie top …

I let the flimsy ties brush against his cheek, as if in invitation, and when he responds by staring at though mesmerised at my cleavage, I shift myself slightly so that the ties are brushing his lips, just so that the message is unmistakable.

He gets it.

After a quick glance up at me to confirm his suspicions, he clamps his teeth on to one of the ties and tugs on it, causing my top to fall open.

“Oh God,” I hear him murmur.

He’s looking blissed out - so delicious to see. It’s rather sweet, really - I mean, I’ve still got my bra on (flimsy little mesh thing, but still) and he’s
already
this happy?

I guess he must really like my boobs, ha!

It’s hard not to feel affection for him when he’s in this mode. Accordingly, I lean forward so that he gets to nuzzle them for a bit, then slowly reach backwards to unhook my bra, teasing him a bit by taking my own sweet time with it, especially since my reaching backwards means that my breasts are pushed out more towards him …

He smiles at me, looking quite flushed. It seems a bit too poetic to say this about a guy who’s basically getting a lap dance and a faceful of tits, but he has an expression on his face that can only be described as rapturous.

Of course, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that he’s utterly gorgeous and has the most beautiful eyes ever!

Eyes which widen when my bra comes off and I toss it on the floor …

I can’t help but smile at him as he stares at me. It’s still early in the song, so I don’t want him to get
too
excited yet, but I can’t resist giving him a taste of nipple before I get off the couch and start gyrating in front of him again.

He sighs, but doesn’t otherwise protest - instead, he just keeps on gazing at me, in that wistful way that’s never failed to melt my cynical little heart.

I turn around, perhaps at least partly so I don’t get
too
sentimental, and bend over, spreading my legs and caressing my ass for his delectation. My g-string’s soaked by now, but I don’t care - I want him to smell my excitement, almost as a sort of challenge to him.

Of course, since I can’t see his face, I can’t see his reaction, but I can definitely hear a change in the way he’s breathing, especially once I start inching my way out of my little skirt, so that the only piece of clothing left on me is my g-string, which obviously doesn’t cover very much of me up.

He’s crimson when I turn around, his gaze avid, lustful.

When I get back onto his lap and begin grinding against his huge erection while supporting myself on the back of the couch, he doesn’t touch me, at least not with his hands, but he leans forward into me and inhales deeply, as though he wanted to take in my scent …

It goes without saying that I can smell
him
too.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but I figure it’s what people refer to as a manly musk, earthy yet clean, with a hint of soap to it.

It’s quite delicious, really, and I have to restrain myself from burying my face in his shoulder or his hair in order to get a good long sniff …

Instead I continue rubbing up against him.

He’s wearing pants today rather than jeans, which he was wearing at the club, and the fabric’s doing even less to hide the raging erection underneath it.

It’s terribly tempting to unzip his pants. I shift myself back slightly, so that I’m sitting on his thighs, and let my hand wander to his crotch - the first time I’ve directly handled his equipment.

I look at him, a question in my eyes.

It’s a question that’s soon answered, even if not quite verbally - he turns red and smiles in wonderment, as though he couldn’t quite believe what I was offering to do.

When I actually reach down and carefully unzip him, he looks ecstatic, and I swear his package actually twitched underneath my hands - I guess that’s not something that just happens in books!

I realise why soon enough - he’s not wearing any underwear, my gorgeous perv of a professor, and so his cock springs out at me, all buoyant and cheery, not to mention incredibly inflated.

Because he is huge. It’s true that this is the first cock I’ve ever handled, but it’s not like I’ve never seen anything on the internet before, and I know that it’s not exactly usual to see one so thick that I can barely get my hand around it …

He’s looking at me, gauging my response to his cock, and smiles when he sees my amazement.

Fuck, I know I didn’t want him to be all smug and everything, but I can’t help this, and - more importantly - it’s stopped mattering to me in the same way, because he is
huge
, and his endowment definitely deserves to be goggled at.

Not to mention that
I’m
incredibly turned on. I mean, I’m holding
Sebastian Morland’s
massive (and massively hard) cock in my hand right now, feeling its strange silkiness, exploring the outline of the veins running through it …

Talk about a sentence that’s unbelievable in itself on so many levels!

With a start I realise that I’d almost forgotten I was supposed to be dancing.

It’s true that the music’s stopped by now, though he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Of course, up till now I hadn’t noticed either …

I make up for it by letting go of his cock and turning round, so that I now have my back to him, and I can feel his magnificent shaft against my naked ass cheeks.

I can’t help but tremble when it occurs to me that if it weren’t for my g-string, I’d be
this
close to being impaled on him. It’s an idea I flirt with as I raise my ass slightly so that his cock is practically tickling my clothed entrance …