The Perfect Stroke (46 page)

“Come, pet. Come for me,” he tells me.

I detonate as my climax rockets through me, crashing down on me in wave after heavy wave. I ride it out, my body on an overload of pleasure, and the source is all coming from Roman. Just when I’m about to calm down, he must hit another button on the control. I can’t even describe what it does. It feels as if a hundred and one fingers are manipulating my clit at once. I go over the edge again, screaming Roman’s name. His large hand rubs against my stomach, caressing me. My eyes search him out again. He’s out of focus because I think most of my body is floating somewhere in another universe, but I see him. He’s stroking his cock. Streams of pre-cum drip off of his shaft, covering his hand and then dripping down onto my skin. I moan as aftershocks of my latest orgasm shake my body. That’s when I feel the first heated splash of his cum coat my stomach as he comes with me.
On me.

“Something wrong, pet?” I ask Ana as we sit at the table.

After our first little playtime, we showered together. I washed her hair and her body, making sure to get her pussy off with my fingers. I wanted to fuck her right there, but part of the fun in breaking in a new toy is taking your time and enjoying the slow ride until they wonder if you will ever give them what they really want.  Ana is a bit different, though. I’m having to fight myself to hold back, and that’s never happened before.
How many times has this woman surprised me?
I’m losing count. I’ve never had that in my life. I’ve always known how people will react. It’s what has made me successful over the years.

This woman surprises me every time I turn around.

“I could probably eat better in my own chair,” she says, a fine pink tint spreading on her face. How she can blush after the way she just came, is yet another surprise. She doesn’t hide her reactions to me. She doesn’t have a mercenary bone in her body that I can find. It’s refreshing.

She’s in my lap, and we’re sitting at the dining room table waiting while my cook heats up the spaghetti and bolognaise sauce. I put a white silk robe on her and brushed her hair and she looks even younger than she did before. If I hadn’t read her file I’d have to ask her if she was legal. She sure as hell doesn’t look twenty-seven.

“There’s no need. I’m going to feed you.”

“You’re going to feed me?” she asks, her face registering her shock.

“Complete control tonight. Remember?”

She still feels tense in my hands, but she relaxes a little more. Mayra, my maid, brings water, a plate of food, and a basket of bread.

“Thank you,” Ana says, but Mayra doesn’t acknowledge her, which makes the blush on Ana’s face darken. I may have to have a talk with my staff. I immediately dismiss the idea. I will be putting Ana up in her own apartment. The point is moot.

I wrap some of the spaghetti around my fork and bring it to her mouth. She opens, sucking the noodles inside her mouth. “That’s good,” she says.

“My chef is good. I demand the best from the people around me,” I tell her, feeding her again.

“I’m picking up on that. What happens when something is beyond your control?” she asks, her hand coming up to catch some of the sauce which has been caught on her lip.

“That rarely happens. I told you I like—”

“Complete control. Yeah, I kind of got that from what happened in the bedroom and shower.”

I pull her hand to my mouth and suck off the remnants of the sauce she has there, letting my tongue glide around her finger before releasing it. 

“Exactly.”

“Am I going to be calling you Daddy before the night is over?” she asks, reaching over and pulling out some of the noodles with her fingers. Her head goes back to let the noodles slink into her opened mouth. My cock pushes up against her ass. I should reprimand her for feeding herself, but since it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen and my eyes are still glued to the way she’s sucking the red meat sauce off her fingers, I don’t.

“Some have. Others, no. That is completely your choice, as long as you give me what I want,” I reply, watching her feed herself again.

This time she stops before swallowing the spaghetti down to look at me. “Then no thank you. I had one Daddy. He wasn’t that great. And please, can we not refer to your other
pets
? I don’t want to lose my appetite.”

“Jealous?”

“Just trying to forget the fact that I’m just one in a succession of women for you.”

I let that remark slide because she’s not wrong, even if discussing this with her feels wrong.

“Tell me about your
daddy
.”

“I’d rather not. That’s another subject that will make me lose my appetite.”

“Is that so?” I ask her, suddenly envious of spaghetti.

She sucking more of them down her mouth and, at my words, she stops when the last of them disappear into her mouth. I grab the noodles this time, holding them over her lips. I hold them a little high so I can watch while her delicate neck stretches up. She sucks them into her mouth slowly, her eyes on me the entire time. She’s deliberately trying to turn me on, even while she’s blushing wildly. The combination is sexy as hell.

“Not like you. I mean, I was talking like a father, but he doesn’t really qualify for that either. He gives the term ‘dead-beat-dad’ a new meaning.”

“I see. And your mother?” I ask her, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way she’s opening up so frankly to me. No games. No hidden meanings. Ana doesn’t do mysterious or coy and I like it. She’s also not trying to buy me with sympathy. Too many women have tried to make me their meal ticket by giving me sob stories. It never seemed to matter that I didn’t really care what their stories were. Ana might be different in that respect too—yet another surprise.

“She split before my father did. Though she did make appearances here and there, mostly when she needed money. I won the lottery in the parental department,” she says, reaching around for the bread. She grabs a piece, but before she can do anything with it, I take it away. She starts to protest, but I pinch a corner off of it and pop it into her waiting mouth, letting my finger slide over her bottom lip, the butter from the bread makes the touch on her lips smooth.

“Who raised you?”

“My father didn’t go MIA until I was sixteen.” She shrugs, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
Which I do.

“Was it just you and your brother?” I prod, wondering exactly what she will say.

“Yeah. Drink, please?” she asks this time, instead of getting it herself. I get the water and guide it to her lips. She scrunches up her face but takes a drink.

“I’m not really a water drinker,” she says.

“It’s good for you.”

“So’s spinach. I find I don’t like it, either,” she says, her nose curling.

“But water is very useful.” I put the glass down on the table.

“To grow spinach?”

“To make you
wet
,” I tell her, shifting her body so that she has a leg on either side of me now and her back is against the table.

“I know of other things that do that,” she whispers, biting on the corner of her mouth again, which I’ve come to realize is a nervous gesture of hers.

I reach into the glass with one hand capturing a piece of the ice. I flick the sash to her robe loose, revealing one of her breasts. I put the cube into my mouth sucking it in and then letting the tip out. I lower my lips to her, letting the ice hover there. She sucks the tip, her eyes open.

“Roman,” she whispers brokenly, her voice laced with hunger. I lean down so I can rake the ice down her chin, following an imaginary line down her beautiful neck. An immense feeling of satisfaction comes over me when I see the trail of wetness I leave in my wake. Her head is back, allowing me access, and after a couple of passes down her neck, I move to her breast. I circle the outside. Ana really has gorgeous breasts. They’re big, but not obscenely so. I can cover them with my hand and they are full, soft, and pliable. Perfect, really. I move the ice around her areola. Her nipple, which was already hard, is pebbled so tightly it looks painful. The ice is almost gone, so I move to her other nipple, letting the icy water drip down. It’s stunning to watch the way the water drips and runs around the nipple and then along the fine ridges that have been made on her areola because of her excitement. I watch until I can’t anymore, and then I take the nipple in my mouth, my tongue swirling the last remnants of the ice around, and I suck it so hard it may bruise. A combination of the cold and my mouth makes Ana cry out. Her hands go to my head and she tries to drag me into her. When I finish, I pull away to look at the stormy violet depths staring back at me. They’re full of hunger and need.

“Your dinner is getting cold, pet,” I remind her, doing my best not to grind against her body. My cock is as hard as brick, pushing up against her bare pussy. The sweatpants I pulled on do nothing to block out the feel of her.

“I’m not hungry for food,” she whispers.

My hands flex into her hips, biting into them, and even the sting of that doesn’t bother her. I pull her roughly to the side, using my hand to swipe the dishes from the table. They fall to the pristine granite floor in a heap of broken glass, porcelain dishes, and food.

“What are you—” Ana rasps, grabbing my shoulders tight as I stand up, placing her on the table.

“Having my dinner. I’m starved,” I growl, putting pressure on her chest so she falls gently back, flat against the table.

“Roman, the mess—your maid,” Ana whispers, but I ignore her. My fingers bite into her ass as I pull her into me.

“Fuck the mess, pet,” I tell her, just before my tongue pushes between the lips of her pussy and her taste fills my mouth. What is it about her? What is it that makes this woman irresistible? When I was younger, women were a must. For a while now though, building my business and making my name took precedence. I’ve had a few partners. Handpicked, backgrounds checked, and contracts signed. Sex is a business just like every other thing in my life.

Until now. I’ve broken every rule I’ve ever had with Ana. She’ll definitely be mixing business with pleasure, considering I’ll most likely kill her brother.