Читать книгу Hard Bargains: A Mischief Erotica Collection - Ashley Lister - Страница 6

It’s the eyes. It must be his eyes. Pure white whites around centres as rich and gleaming as dark chocolate melting in a pan. Or maybe it’s the cheeks, with that constant hint of a blush upon them to show his innocence; the skin below smooth and slightly tanned to lessen the contrast, to make him look more adventurer than out-and-out choirboy. A nice adventurer, though. Above all that is what he will be: nice. A sweet soul who instinctively puts others before his own interests, his happiness dependent upon yours. A gentle giant with strong, lithe limbs to wrap around you when safety or comfort is needed. A body and mind to shape to your exact whim. In short, perfect. Pity, then, that somebody has beaten me to it.

I could have punched his wedding ring in the face when I spotted it. I mean, how dare someone get in and close the deal before I’d even had a chance to make my pitch? So, OK, maybe he’s not quite my type for the long haul. I’m not sure anyone fits that particular bill. After all, these techie guys do tend to veer heavily towards the dull side. Even his boyish innocence might come to grate after a while. But he is definitely my type for the short or mid haul. He’s certainly the type to get my juices and imagination flowing; he’s already having quite an effect in that way. A nice wavy thatch of dark-brown hair to run your fingers through. A bright smile and eyes to melt in. Tall and athletic, with real shoulders on him – I bet he used to row for his college. And you don’t have a body like that and not have some serious credentials in the underwear department.

I should stop teasing myself by looking his way. I’ve caught his eye a couple of times. He even gave me a little smile and a shy nod the last time. But that ring won’t just disappear and, ruthless as I can be, the husband-baiting game is not one I choose to play. A cheetah I might be but a cheater I am not. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of other men to gawp at, this being our annual company knees-up. It’s being held in one of the very swankiest hotels in the capital, with an internationally famous recording artist laid on for a performance later – a treat befitting a young, driven, successful team like ours. The mood is right, the hair is down and the drink is flowing. There must be any number of unattached young bucks ripe for the picking. And yet all I can see is him.

He must be a techie. He doesn’t look geeky enough but he is surely too nice to be management, and I know all of the sales team and he isn’t one of us. In theory I should be impervious to him and he shouldn’t want to give me the time of day. Our company sells computing platforms with bespoke software to big business. It is highly lucrative and highly competitive. The techies generally don’t like the salesforce as we make product promises to clients that the tech guys then have to keep. And we don’t like the tech guys because we bring in the orders that pay the wages, give them exciting new projects with lots of lovely techie problems to solve, and all they do is bitch about it. I’m sure they don’t hate us quite so much when they’ve got us in the privacy of their own minds and their stiff cocks in their hands, but they’d never concede this point to us.

He does look like he wants to make contact, as awkward in these social situations as he might be. He seems lost, standing there on the very periphery of a group of jabbering techno-geeks, all presumably shoehorning as much dull shit as can be factored into any sentence before the next guy wades in. Kudos to him for not wanting to join in. I’m purposefully scanning the room back and forth – sexual predator that I am when the mood takes me – as if waiting to find someone worthy to talk to, or worthy of taking me to bed tonight. It gives me an excuse to keep catching his eye and making that adorable blush burn a little redder. The more I look at him, the more that warm glow inside me grows. Why on earth did he have to do such a silly thing as go and get married?

Uh-oh – I spy Meredith lurking near him, giving him the once-over. She is the meanest, the most ruthless of us all. I’ve no doubt she would scrunch up any marriage and toss it away just for the momentary triumph. Not that Mr Adorably Innocent need worry. From the few encounters I’ve had with Meredith, she seems only to have eyes for other women. She seems to especially have the hots for me. I mean, it’s not the idea of other women I’m against; I’ve never much thought about the pros and cons. And it’s not that she isn’t very attractive with her shown-off curves, her red hair/cream skin combo and her delicious smell. But I just couldn’t give her the double satisfaction. She’d use it against me, and the rivalry between us is too fierce for gifts like that.

She is a cheetah like me. That’s what they call us. In the mouths of some it is said with pride, in others’ with disparagement. Our company makes no bones about using younger, more attractive females to spearhead their sales team. They give no shits about sexism, and neither do I. Together we will utilise all the firepower at our disposal to get a signature on the dotted line. So cheetahs we are, since we are too young to be cougars. We are lithe and gorgeous, deadly if a little delicate. We are intelligent, driven, always hungry. We burst upon our prey and run it into the ground. Shock and awe, that’s us. We’d be lawyers if we had that particular qualification.

She spies me and spreads into one of her could-eat-you smiles, like she always sends my way. She doesn’t care a jot that I know she lusts after me. I think she sees it as a power over me, something to keep me squirming, mind-jumbled and off-guard. I’m sure she thinks that after each of our meetings I run straight into hiding to give myself a furious rub at the thought of her seducing me. Yeah, well, she can stick that smugness right up her round derrière. It’s only ever happened once. Here she comes. Half-exposed creamy bosom at the ready, she prowls towards me as if I’m just another client-prey.

‘Seen anyone you fancy?’ she says, presenting me with that cleavage. She knows I can’t help but look. It’s a first point to her but I can come back stronger, keeping my eyes where they are as if mesmerised by her ample titty delights, this time apparently unable to resist her charms.

‘Indeed I have,’ I reply coyly, drinking in the sight of her lovely smooth skin to the point where she must think she has me. Then, with perfect timing, I look up, not into her green eyes but across to Mr Adorably Innocent. ‘Him.’

She follows my gaze but keeps that little smile on her face. She doesn’t want me to know I had her insides tumbling just a little that time.

She says, ‘What, the short, speccy chap with the face like a pissed squirrel?’

‘No, the tall, handsome chap with the adorable eyes and cheeks.’

‘And a shirt that looks like my father’s pyjamas.’

‘And fabulous shoulders. And no doubt a cock to have you slavering.’

‘No doubt. And a wedding ring, I see.’

I can’t deny it. Every time he lifts his champagne glass to his lips that mocking gold band is displayed once more.

‘Yes, and a wedding ring.’

I can’t help but sound like the wind has gone a little from my sails.

‘Not that that should be any bar to your conquest,’ she says, breezily. ‘Although didn’t you once tell me that any woman who targeted a married man must be some kind of destructive bitch who can only validate her own worth by stealing the prize from the arms of a defeated wife?’

‘Something like that,’ I concede. ‘Married couples do seem like very soft targets. And it can’t say much for your self-worth if you are so scared of finding someone who will commit to you that you choose someone who has already committed elsewhere.’

It does sound a bit lame when said out loud. We two trample over all-comers for a living. We have frantic lives unsuited to steady, stable relationships – here one minute, there the next, away often. We work hard, so when we get to play we do it hard, fast and loose. Most of my pleasure comes from people I will not know for very long, maybe only for one night or two, so it can seem a touch foolish to avoid husbands just because I am not the one they choose to go home to. But I have my principles. I want to be first best, not second best. Always. He is gorgeous though, I cannot deny it. Just my type – a type so very rare to find, one my instincts tell me I must not let go a-begging.

‘Yet still you are sizing him up,’ Meredith says, archly.

He is looking at me now, holding my gaze shyly but for longer. And it is me he is looking at, not her. He doesn’t even cast the most fleeting of glances her way. That has my blood fizzing with triumph. I could almost cast aside my rules about husbands just to seduce him in front of my rival and shove it down her throat.

‘It’s the eyes,’ I say. ‘Or maybe the shoulders.’

‘He is certainly a prize. Have you thought about what kind of a cock he has?’

In the few conversations I’ve had with her it is clear that neither of us ever has any intention of mincing our words. It’s just not our style and it would be a pointless façade. I think there is an unsaid competition to try to shock each other, to be more blatant and worldly-wise than the other. Being the coolest chick of the bunch gets people jumping for you and has the clients eating out of your hand. So I don’t want her to think she can faze me by so openly discussing the private parts of our fellow guests. I’ve got to be all over this cock-thinking situation. One-upmanship is always the name of the game between cheetahs. It’s how we survive.

‘Of course I have,’ I reply, with little batting of eyelids. ‘Long and smooth and with a nice gentle upward curve to it. Uncircumcised. Iron-hard and hot against the palm. Delicious to suck upon and not too fat, either – I do love to take them all.’

I thought to stun her with the depth of my description but her eyes just glaze slightly and her smile spreads wider.

‘The perfect cock, perhaps?’ she says, as much to herself as to me. ‘I wonder what you would give for it?’

‘I’m sorry?’

I’m momentarily thrown again and she seizes upon it, fixing me with one of those confident looks that sees clients caving. She spells it out slowly and coolly, making each word count.

‘I said I wonder what you would give to have his cock inside you.’

The words hit me both in the mind and in the puss, scoring heavily. I can’t help the images or the pleasurable, needy twinge it produces between my thighs. My face probably gives me away but I need to fight back.

‘Give?’ I say, trying my best to scoff. ‘I never have to give anything for my pleasure. That must just be you.’

She doesn’t bite.

‘Then you will take him?’ she says, still as cool as a befridged cucumber.

As well as the extra rude images she knows this will give me, I can see the challenge in her eyes. It’s all about competition between the two of us: who is seen to come out on top; who can nail the biggest contracts in the quickest time with the lowest overheads. We are the two biggest guns – in my estimation, at least.

‘He is married,’ I say, not to fall into any trap she might be laying.

‘But what if that didn’t matter?’ she replies, and I can see the cogs of that swift predator brain whirring. ‘What if his wife wanted you to have him? What if I knew, in fact, that this was precisely the case?’

Now she has got me a little stunned, and she’s sticking out that sumptuous cleavage of hers even more towards me, as if to hit me from all angles.

‘And how the fuck would you know something like that?’

‘Oh, I know his wife very well indeed – very well. You know her too, as it happens. In fact, you are looking at her right now.’

The triumphant smile spreads to its widest. She’s got me more than a little stumped. She looks deadly serious too.

‘What? But you can’t be. You’re a …’

‘I’m a what? A free-thinker who finds beauty in all forms irresistible? A hedonist who believes that pleasure and jealousy are the worst kind of bedfellows? Is that what you were going to say?’

Well, it’s not like it couldn’t be true. I don’t really know her at all. She is certainly capable of ensnaring someone like him. Once she had her claws in there’d be no hope for him. I just didn’t have him down as her type. Or any him for that matter.

‘Strange that there is no ring on your finger,’ I remark, ‘since you are married.’

‘Only an amateur would go into the negotiations we do with a ring on. I want those fuckers wrapped around my finger, not some gold band. I want them thinking I am a prize they can win. I’m hardly going to do that by advertising that I am already taken, am I? So I wear my ring on a neck chain. I can’t be giving you the upper hand over me, can I?’

It is true. Enemies working for the same side, that’s us. Although we seldom work on the same project – two cheetahs in one room would lead to a catfight – we are nonetheless driven to outdo each other, and our managers encourage this. She is my constant invisible foe.

‘So now I know your weakness,’ I say, allowing myself a smile at last. She doesn’t blink, those calculating eyes on mine as she weighs this statement up. She does smell good.

‘A half-dozen smacks to your bare arse is the cost,’ she declares.

‘You what?’ I’m flabbergasted.

‘For my husband,’ she says. ‘With my open hand, I mean, not with a paddle. I want to feel the heat in your cheeks.’

It’s got me mentally reeling again. She has moved in closer and that delicious scent of hers keeps distracting my senses. And those inviting tits are practically brushing mine. My head is spinning and no one can usually have that effect on me. I cannot remember the last time I was anywhere near flustered. I need to restore my cool.

‘I don’t remember saying that I wanted him,’ I retort, trying to sound indignant.

‘But you do, and what’s more you can have him. However, the price is now a dozen spanks. Don’t worry – it will sting but it will make you tingle like you have never felt before. And it will be worth it, I promise. You nailed your description of his cock, by the way. It is every bit as gorgeous as you said – more so, even. Why else do you think I married him? And he does so love to have it sucked by someone who really knows what they are doing.’

Oh, dear. Wonderful thoughts provoked, plus a suck-off challenge laid down, to further befuddle me. She knows my instinct will be to rise to it, especially with the delicious images she’s conjured. I can’t have her thinking she’s a better cocksucker than me, the lesbian! I’m half-incredulous, half-bristling, my mind dodging back and forth. She’s got my pulse running, my head spinning and my pussy tingling. She is running rings around me here. That guy is something. I wish he’d stop looking at me in that way or we are going to have a moth-versus-flame situation to deal with.

‘I told you,’ I say with a sniff, ‘I don’t have to pay for my sexual pleasure.’

‘This time you do. But it will be worth it. The payment will be the most wonderful pleasure in itself, you’ll see. The charge has gone up to two dozen smacks now, by the way, although that’s not so high a price. Sometimes the more you get, the more sublime the feeling becomes. You presumably know this? I take it you have been spanked before?’

I haven’t but my mind is truly whirring, trying to find a response that wrests me back some of my lost ground. Any question coming from her must be loaded, so I need to give careful answers, if I can just think straight and forget the craving the two of them in tandem are giving me down below.

‘I can see from your silence that you haven’t,’ she says, jumping in before I have a chance to reply. ‘Perhaps you aren’t quite the make-life-your-bitch type I took you for? You know, for someone as gorgeous as you are, as strong as you are, it can feel like the greatest privilege to be spanked by someone who really knows how to bring you that most sublime of pleasures. Take my word for it. By someone who knows that to be truly adored you have to give someone the time of their life. And there is nothing so exquisite as the softness of a woman’s body and kisses afterwards. I take it you have been with a woman before?’

‘I only like cock.’

I essentially blurt this. It’s lame and I’m now looking even more like some fuddy-duddy convent girl, with weak excuses to cover my lack of adventure. I’m sounding like an amateur and our kind know exactly how to run over pitiful defences. She will see right through me too. Our kind can read people too well. She knows she’s got me thinking about holding her thighs apart and feasting upon her, first with my eyes and then with my mouth.

‘Nonsense,’ she says, her bosom squashing to mine. ‘You are simply scared of finding out just how incomparable a thrill making love to another woman is. You think it dents your armour but I know it just gives you other weapons. And now the price is two dozen spanks to the bare arse plus my fingers inside you, wherever I want them. You know I can make any girl come, at any time, with just my fingers? It is a gift I have.’

‘Why on earth are you going on about price increases when I’ve told you I’d never be willing to pay?’

Am I actually worried about what cost in sexual favours I’m going to accrue?

‘Because I am going to give you the most unforgettable night of your life, and that needs some reward. The longer you resist the inevitable, the more you will have to give to me before I let you have my husband. And the more I do to you, the more you will yearn for me afterwards, the more you will ache with desire for me above all others, above all cocks. That includes my husband, who happens to be the best male lover you will ever have inside you. I want you; you know that. You want my husband; we both know that. You can have him but first I will have you, and I know that when I’m done, however good he is – and he is – you will still want me more. And now the price is my tongue wherever I want it too. And I’m even more gifted with my tongue than with my fingers.’

She’s got me breathing hard and leaning into her. I’ve got to fight it because I know it’s just playing into her hands, but my head feels hot and muzzy from the blood surge. My puss is crying out to be pressed to her, to anything. It’s him I want but somehow she has expertly used him to lure me into this weakness, to make me tingle at the thought of anything dirty coming my way.

‘Maybe I’ll just bypass you and take him,’ I say, sounding too breathy to be convincing. ‘He’s been looking my way enough to suggest he finds me irresistible.’

‘Oh, no doubt he does – he adores beautiful girls with peachy bottoms like your own. He’d do anything for you. That’s what is so uniquely special about him. Everything he does is for your pleasure. You might come three or four times before he has his turn. But he is no bitch. He will smear your lips with the drop of precome at the tip of his cock just as soon as he will patiently tease your skin with his nails. He will slip from inside you, hold you by the hair and beat your cheeks with his juice-wet cock just as soon as he will worship your puss with his tongue for a whole hour. He will press your face to the pillow and thrust into you like a beast from the rear just as soon as he will kiss you as he gently enters you from above, or looks into your eyes as he comes. You never have to tell him anything; he just knows. And everything he does is first and foremost for your pleasure. He truly is one in a billion.’

I knew my instincts were correct. My body knew he was not to be passed over.

‘So why do I need you?’ I ask her, images of naked him rampant in my head.

‘Oh, because he would never do anything without my acquiescence. It just isn’t in his nature to go against me. The thought is just such a turn-off for him. He wants beautiful women to adore and I give them to him from time to time. But I share them too, because I know that however fabulous a lover he is, it will still be me those girls are ringing the next day. It is me they can’t wait to have another dirty, exhilarating fuck with. He is happy but I am always the real winner. And the price has just gone up again. Now you will also have to eat my shaven, wet cunt. It is like velvet, you know. So hot, soft and sweet-tasting. It has brought every girl I’ve ever had to their knees.’

Now I’m almost dribbling. She sure knows how to sell an idea. I’ve got visions of him grasping me by the hair as I suck him, mixed with those of her holding her sweet-scented lips apart ready for me to sink my tongue into her. Imagine the bliss of him plunging into me from the rear as I slurp at her velvet cunt. My cheeks are flushed and she will know I’m fighting to stay off her hook. He’s casting me those shy looks, unaware just how defenceless that is making me. Those eyes! Those shoulders! And that hidden cock, the one that will give me more pleasure than any I will ever have. I know she’s right on this. I just know it. But I can’t just give in to her, whatever my body is crying out for. I know she’ll be in control if we get naked together.

‘Shame I don’t believe that a woman could give me more pleasure than a man,’ I say, although I’m pressed ever closer to her, that husband of hers able to see how drawn in I am and how close to being his for the night.