Читать книгу Sexually Satisfied - Melissa Randall - Страница 5

I drifted through Sunday, hoping David would call my cell, knowing he probably wouldn’t. He didn’t. I fought down disappointment and anxiety. He will call me, he will call me…

Mary drove me to the station to catch the 4:00 train. I hugged her hard. “Thanks for the great weekend, Mary, it was just what I needed.”

“You can visit anytime, Gillian. And please remember what I said about David…I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Sure, I’ll be careful.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had already fallen hard for this guy—physically anyway.

The train ride back to the city was blissful, especially compared to the ride out. I thought of David the whole way. I didn’t think once about that other guy…what was his name…oh, right, Steve.

The city was still steaming hot. Nothing in my mailbox except a Visa bill with a $240 minimum payment due. Once I’d paid the bill and my rent, I’d have less than $300 in my checking account. I sighed as I realized I had to go back to temping.

I decided to lift my spirits by calling Anita. I gave her a blow-by-blow account of meeting David, leaving out only Aunt Mary’s warning and my orgasmic sexual fantasy about him.

Anita gave a low whistle. “David Wentworth! He’s quite a catch. Rich and good-looking. Elena Hernandez dated him for a few months.”

“Oh, god, you mean that gorgeous Brazilian model who did the Revlon campaign? I can’t compete with someone like her!” I squeaked.

“Elena is gorgeous, but she’s also a mean bitch. It’s no wonder he dumped her after a few months. And you’re gorgeous, too, Gillian.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. At best I’m cute. But he probably won’t call me anyway.”

“Of course he will. And when he does, you have to let me know right away.”

I laughed. “Okay…you’ll be the first to know.”

I hung up and started some desultory cleaning. I had the fan on at full blast but was soaked with sweat within minutes. God only knew when I’d have enough money to buy a new air conditioner.

My cell phone rang. Anita again, I thought, with another tidbit of gossip about David. “Hello?”

“Gillian? Hi, it’s David Wentworth.”

My knees turned so weak I had to sit down. I pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face. “Oh, hi, David, how are you?” I said in my best faux-casual voice.

“Fine, and you?”

“Fine.” My palms were sweating, and I had to work hard to maintain a normal tone.

“I wondered if we could get together tomorrow night. Are you free?”

“Um, yes, I think so. I mean, yes, definitely.”

“Great. I thought we could have dinner at Francesca’s on Fifty-Second Street. Do you know it?”

“Oh, sure.” Actually I’d only read about it—Francesca’s was the new chic restaurant for celebrities and the super rich. I couldn’t afford a cup of coffee at that place.

“I have a six P.M. meeting…do you mind meeting me there around eight?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” I felt relieved. I didn’t want David to see my crappy apartment—or my crappy building or my crappy neighborhood, for that matter.

“Perfect. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again, Gillian.”

“Me, too, David.” We made small talk for a few minutes and then hung up. I was so proud that I’d managed to get through the conversation without sounding like Minnie Mouse or making a complete ass of myself.

I immediately dialed Anita’s cell. “He called! We’re having dinner tomorrow night at Francesca’s.”

She was almost as excited as I was. “That’s fast work. He must be really into you. And dinner at Francesca’s…he wants to impress you. What are you going to wear?”

“Oh, god, I hadn’t even thought of that. I don’t have anything good enough…what am I going to do?”

“Relax, your best friend is an expert at dealing with fashion emergencies. I have this really cute new Versace miniskirt that would look great on you.”

“Anita, I can’t fit into your clothes! I’m six inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier.”

“Well, okay, we’ll bag the miniskirt idea. But I can bring over accessories and makeup. I’ll be there are soon as I can.”

Twenty minutes later we were rummaging through my pathetic wardrobe. “What about this long green velvet dress?” Anita suggested. “You always look so pretty in it.”

“Too formal and too hot. I usually wear it for family holiday gatherings.”

“Okay…how about this blue suede suit?”

“Too businesslike.”

Anita refused to be discouraged. “All right. How about the skirt from the blue suede suit with a pretty blouse? This white lace one has a nice low neckline—you definitely won’t look too businesslike.”

I tried on the outfit with strappy white high-heeled sandals. I was pleased until I turned around to get a rear view. “Oh, my god, my ass looks huge!”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anita disagreed firmly. “You have a great ass and great tits. I wish I had your assets…then I might actually have a shot at the Victoria’s Secret catalog and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.”

I turned to look at her. She was dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt. No makeup. As usual, she looked spectacular. Anita had incredibly long, lean legs; Audrey Hepburn features; feline green eyes and short jet-black hair. It was impossible for her to look bad. I dismissed a twinge of jealousy.

“Okay, I’ll trust your opinion. I’ll wear this outfit. Now what about accessories?”

We finally agreed on her gold San Marco necklace and matching bracelet, with discreet gold hoop earrings. She also loaned me a white pashmina. She applied makeup and wrote down instructions so I could re-create the look the following night. When I studied myself in the mirror I felt like a princess—a much prettier, more sophisticated Gillian.

“Okay, just one last thing,” said Anita. “Underwear.”

“Anita, he’s not going to see my underwear!”

“You never know.” She smirked. “Besides, even if you don’t end up in bed with him, pretty underwear will make you feel more confident.”

“I guess so…. I do have a new bra and panty set I bought at Victoria’s Secret. Aunt Mary gave me a gift certificate for my birthday.” I showed her—a push-up bra and modest bikini panties in apricot silk trimmed with ivory lace.

“Perfect. You’ll give David Wentworth the biggest hard-on of his life.”

“Anita!” We collapsed into laughter.

It was nearly midnight when she left. “Now remember, I want to hear all the details right away. Have a wonderful time.” She winked at me as she closed the front door behind her.

The following night I splurged on a taxi even though I couldn’t afford it. I didn’t want to take the subway or bus to Francesca’s and dishevel my appearance. As I stood before the restaurant door, huge moths of nervous tension fluttered in my stomach. I closed my eyes and took three long, deep breaths, trying to center myself the way I did before going onstage or in front of a TV camera.

The hostess was a coolly elegant black woman in a low-cut ivory evening dress. “May I help you?” she asked with an imperious glance at me.

“Yes, I’m meeting David Wentworth.”

“Of course. This way please.” Her voice was a degree or two warmer, but her expression suggested that she still couldn’t imagine what I was doing there.

“Gillian. You look wonderful.” David rose and leaned over the table to peck my cheek. Even that brief contact was enough to make my heart race.

The hostess dropped a menu in front of me and then leaned far over the table to hand one to David. Her boobs nearly popped out of her gown. I glared at her. She ignored me. David seemed oblivious to the boob maneuver and my outrage.

We quickly ordered wine and entrees. I tried not to feel intimidated by the chandeliers, the priceless Persian rugs, the fine china and crystal.

David smiled and pinned me with his brilliant blue eyes. He was staring at me so intently I had to drop my gaze and fidget with my napkin to regain my composure.

“When I met you at Mary’s I thought you looked familiar…. I’m wondering if I remember you from a commercial.”

“Maybe. My most successful one was for Manhattan Bank. It ran for several months on local stations. I played Satisfied Customer Number One.”

“Yes, I remember now. You were excellent as a satisfied customer.”

The mild sexual innuendo was enough to make me blush ferociously.

“So how was your meeting?” I asked to change the subject.

“Pretty good. I’m working on a new luxury condo project in Boston. There’s been a lot of red tape, a lot of problems with subcontractors, but we’re making progress.”

Our entrees arrived. My salmon dish was mind-blowing—what Anita and I called “ohmigod food”—but I was too nervous to enjoy it. David and I chatted casually about our backgrounds. I told him about growing up in rural New Hampshire with Anita; he talked about Denver and his childhood dream of becoming a professional tennis player. A severe knee injury had ended his budding career.

Two hours slipped by; eventually we were the only customers left in the restaurant. David sat back in his chair and again mesmerized me with his gaze. “I just moved into a new apartment on East Seventy-Fifth Street. I’d love to show it to you.”

I felt a moment of panic. Miss Prudence and Miss Hornypants made a brief appearance in my head.

“He wants to have sex with you! You never sleep with a man on the first date!” cried Miss Prudence.

“Go for it. You might not get a second chance with this guy,” urged Miss Hornypants.

Miss H. won. “I’d love to see your apartment.”

“Great. My car and driver are just outside.” He leaned across the table and softly kissed my lips. My panties were soaked. I knew I was about to experience the most intense sexual pleasure of my life.

No ostentatious stretch limo for David. His car was a sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows. “Gillian, this is Al,” he said, introducing me to the driver. Al, a huge, swarthy middle-aged guy, opened the back door for me and grinned. I liked him immediately.

In the car David chatted with Al about sports. Taking my fingers in a firm grip, he moved my hand to his thigh. I could feel his potent body heat; I swallowed hard.

The elegant lobby of his apartment building had the hushed atmosphere of a European museum. In the elevator David punched the PH button and then kissed me hard, slowly sliding his tongue between my lips. He ran his hands down my back to my ass. By then my nipples were rising and my pussy was aching. When the elevator doors opened he released me.

“Would you like the grand tour of the apartment?” he asked.

No, I want you to rip off my clothes and take me right here in the foyer. I restrained myself. “Yes, I’d love a tour.”

The living/dining area was about the size of a football field. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a stunning panorama of the East River. The decor was muted and elegant—steel-gray leather sofas and ottomans; large Cubist paintings that appeared to be Picasso originals; a few enormous floral arrangements in crystal vases. I’d seen apartments like this only in House Beautiful and Architectural Digest. “It’s lovely,” I murmured, trying not to let my impatience show.

He took my hand and pulled me through the kitchen, the study, the guest room, and finally to the master bedroom. I was disappointed when the tour didn’t stop there; I was about to expire from frustrated lust. He showed me the master bathroom and then led me into his dressing room. There he finally kissed me again; I could feel his heart pounding. “Give me your tongue,” he demanded. I obeyed.

As he slowly unbuttoned my blouse I reached down to massage the bulge straining at his fly. His cock was extremely hard—and apparently extremely large. I glanced to the right and understood why we were starting here. A full-length mirror on his closet door reflected everything we did to each other. It was incredibly exciting to watch.

David pulled off my blouse and expertly unhooked my bra. “God, Gillian, your breasts are beautiful,” he breathed. “So round and firm…and your nipples…” He began to lick and suck; it was even better than my fantasy. My nipples looked like raspberries.

I dropped to my knees and unzipped his fly. I pulled out his straining cock and flicked my tongue over the head, teasing out drops of cum. David groaned. I pulled down his pants and briefs and then attacked his shaft and balls with my lips and tongue. His balls were very tight. David’s breathing quickened as he watched me in the mirror. “Gillian, please stop…. It feels wonderful, but I don’t want to go off too soon.”

“Oh, no, we definitely don’t want that.” I gave him a mischievous smile as I stretched out on the floor. David yanked off his remaining clothes and dropped down next to me. He pulled off my sandals and lifted my skirt. I spread my legs for him, wet and ready, but he made me wait. He gently stroked my pussy through my panties.

“David…how did you know how much I love that? My pussy is dripping.”

He smiled, slid a finger under the elastic and deep inside me. “My god, you are so wet….” He stripped off my panties and spread my lips. “And your clit is so swollen….” He started licking and sucking; I felt the deep throb of a building orgasm. “Please let me come, please….” I whimpered.

He pulled away. “Not yet, darling, not yet.” He stroked my lips lightly with his pinky finger.

“I want your tongue again…. Please lick my pussy,” I moaned.

He blew his warm breath over my engorged clit, bringing me so close to the edge.

“Please, David, please.…”

He plunged his tongue deep into my hole and pressed his thumb against my clit.

I came hard, harder than I ever had before. As I lay there gasping, David slowly stroked his cock and stared at my pussy. When I had recovered enough, he knelt between my knees and thrust hard into me. I whimpered. He began to pump slowly and then faster as I gyrated beneath him. I screamed as I came again, digging my nails into his shoulders. He suddenly pulled his cock out, groaned my name and spurted hot cum all over my breasts.

We lay there for a few minutes, trying to slow our ragged breathing and racing hearts. “God, Gillian,” he said, “I knew sex would be good with you, but I had no idea….”

“That I was such a lusty wench?”

He laughed. “Lusty wenches are my favorite kind of woman. Seriously, you’re amazing.”

“Oh, David,” I whispered. “I have so many fantasies….”

“I know, darling,” he whispered back. “And I want to make them all come true.”

I straddled him and pressed his free hand against my pussy. “Make me come again, David.” I squeezed my legs around his thigh and rocked as fast as I could, feeling his finger slide deep into my ass. Intense pleasure built to a crescendo and burst through my body; from a distance I could hear myself scream.

I was limp and panting as David pulled my legs apart and slid his cock inside me. I sat perfectly still on his cock for a few minutes and then started to rock slowly again, staring at his glistening shaft as it slid in and out of my pussy. “I want you to come hard,” I murmured. “I want you to explode deep inside me. I want to watch your hot cum dripping out of my pussy.”

“Yes…I’m going to give it to you….” David suddenly grabbed my ass and squeezed my cheeks hard. I tightened my pussy muscles around his cock and rocked harder. David dug his fingers into my ass cheeks as he came with a long groan.

We made love two more times that night, sharing the intimate secrets of our bodies. We quickly learned the best ways to tease, please and satisfy each other. We both loved oral sex, so the sixty-nine position was especially exciting for us. David straddled my face and bent over to lap at my pussy as I licked his balls and sucked hard on the head of his cock. The moment I came, I felt his cum gushing into my mouth and down my throat.

Happily aching and sated, I slept deeply in his antique four-poster bed. When I woke up late the next morning, I was stunned and disappointed to find myself alone. “David?” I called tentatively.

He entered the bedroom from the dressing room. He was buttoning a crisp white dress shirt. “Good morning, Gillian,” he said briskly. “I hope you slept well. Unfortunately I have to run because I’m late for a meeting. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some….” He looked away from me, intent on inserting gold cuff links in his cuffs.

I wasn’t going to allow him to get away so easily. “That’s too bad, David.” I sighed. “Because I’m feeling incredibly horny this morning.”

I flung back the bedspread to reveal my hard nipples. David stopped fidgeting with the cuff links and stared.

“I guess I’ll just have to masturbate. And I’d much rather have your hard cock.” I slowly spread my legs and then my pussy lips. I gently rubbed my clit with a finger.

“Gillian, I really have to go—” His voice was hesitant.

I looked at the growing bulge in his pants. “But you don’t want to,” I whispered as I slid two fingers inside my pussy.

“Oh, god.” He dropped the cuff links.

I felt triumphant.

He unzipped his fly and pulled out his rock-hard shaft.

“How do you want to fuck me, David?”

“From behind. Kneel on the edge of the bed.”

I obeyed, exposing my ass and my wet pussy to him. He thrust into me hard and deep and then remained still for a moment. I looked around and saw him massaging his balls, his eyes half closed in bliss.

“Play with my clit while you fuck me,” I demanded. I felt his warm fingers massaging my lips and then stroking my clit with a featherlight touch. “Fuck me now, fuck me as hard as you can.”

He pumped his shaft in and out as he increased the pressure on my clit. “I love to fuck you, Gillian…. I love to make you scream….”

I bit my knuckles and released a long howl as he shouted my name. I felt his cum spurting into my pussy as I collapsed onto my stomach, overwhelmed by pleasure.