“Stop.” His voice is raw, and he pu

“Stop.” His voice is raw, and he pulls his cock from my mouth with a wet sucking sound. Growling out a curse, he leaves me to wonder what I’ve done wrong. “You lied to me, Brielle.”
He strips off my blindfold and the flicker of candlelight greets me, illuminating the fact that I’m on my knees with him standing over me. His cock stands tall, glistening with my saliva. His body is smooth everywhere, sculpted of rock-hard muscle. This man is built for sex.
“What did I do?” I ask as my brain struggles to comprehend what I’ve lied to him about.
Shit. What have I done?
He grips his cock and squeezes, staring down at me with displeasure. “You led me to believe you weren’t good at sucking cock. And you’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”
Pride swells inside me, and I suck my lip into my mouth in an effort to fight off a smile.
“You want to finish me? To feel me lose control in your mouth?” He tilts his head and studies me.
“Yes,” I say confidently, staring straight up at him.
“Bend over. Place your forehead on the carpeting and put that pretty little ass in the air.”
I do as he’s instructed, my body already tingling in anticipation of what’s to come. I am completely exposed, and while normally I’d feel embarrassed and unsure with him, I feel alive.
“Ease your knees apart.”
When I spread my knees apart, I’m completely open for his perusal. I should feel self-conscious, but with my cheek pressed to the floor, I look up and see the longing in his eyes. A hot bolt darts through me. I feel more desirable in this moment than I ever recall feeling before.
“And to think I was going to take it slow with you, ease you into things tonight.” He makes a low tsk-tsking sound under his breath.
Am I being punished? Why does that excite me so much?
“This ass needs to be fucked,” he murmurs, gripping one fleshy cheek before treating it to a sharp swat.
I release a grunt at the unexpected contact.
“Be still. And stay quiet,” he says, his voice devoid of all fun and games.
I wait, my behind on prominent display as I wonder what will happen next.
When he drops to his knees behind me and presses his face between my cheeks, I jump and shout out a little yelp.
He grips my hips. “Quiet. And be still,” he reminds me.
I swallow and ease back into position, feeling his mouth at my core once again. The warmth of his tongue as it sweeps over me, the sharp nip of his teeth raking across my swollen clit—it feels incredible, and his skill at this is enough to make me forget my name. But he doesn’t focus anywhere for long, he licks and caresses me with his tongue, but every time I’m close to the edge, he changes his angle and pressure so I’m left reeling and unsatisfied.
“Please,” I beg, needing a release.
He plunges two fingers deep inside me and focuses all his attention on my oversensitive clit, sending me hurtling toward orgasm in a dizzying rush of excitement.
“Yes, yes,” I beg, right on the edge.
His hand smacks my ass again, a reminder to be quiet for him, but thank God, he doesn’t stop that wicked mouth from devouring me.
My orgasm crashes into me, pulling a low moan from my throat, and my fingers dig into the carpeting, scrambling for purchase.
“That’s it, peach,” he murmurs encouragingly against my backside as he slowly removes his fingers.
My entire world is rocked. I feel spent and used in the most lovely way.
“Up on your knees, pet.”
I couldn’t rise to my feet right now if he demanded it. But he helps me up to my knees and as soon as I’m perched before him again, I open wide, waiting for him to take my mouth again. The admiration in his gaze makes my belly flip. Without direction, he pushes forward, shoving his huge cock into my throat, and he holds my head in place, fucking my mouth as he desires.
I gag slightly and he retreats; his eyes trained on mine flash with something dark. “Don’t stop now,” he warns.
I shake my head; I won’t stop until he makes me. I want to use my hands, and he hasn’t expressly forbid it this time, so with this cock bobbing in and out of my mouth, I test the waters, trailing my fingernails over his solid thighs. When he doesn’t stop me, I grow bold, wrapping both fists firmly around his generous length and stroking him between each thrust.
“Fuck.” The word rumbles from deep in his chest, an almost animalistic sound. Seconds later, his fists tighten in my hair and a hot jet of semen coats my throat.
I swallow him down and once he’s finished, he bends forward and brushes his lips over my forehead, then pulls on black boxer briefs.
My limbs are heavy, and all the blood has settled into my lower half from remaining on my knees for so long. I’m shivering and weak.
“Come here,” he says, gathering me up in his arms and moving me onto the bed. He pulls the quilt over me and holds me quietly. After several minutes, he tilts my chin up as though he’s inspecting me. His eyes are dark and stormy, and I don’t understand why. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” My voice comes out hoarse and rough.
“Would you like some water?” he asks.
I nod.
“I’ll be right back. Just lie back and rest.”
He rises from the bed, and I watch his tight butt as he heads for my kitchen. In the silence, my gaze wanders to the candle he’s placed on my dresser, its flame dancing in the otherwise dark room.
The initial satisfaction fades and a deep shame over what I’ve done—with a perfect stranger, a man I’ve hired—threatens to overwhelm me. Confused by the quick shift in my emotions, I blink back tears.
I rest my eyes for a few moments and when I open them, he’s standing over me wearing nothing more than boxers that barely contain him and the generous swell at the front. His eyes are soulful, and his look is one of concern. He brings a glass of cool water to my lips, and I take a long drink, grateful for his compassion.
“Are you okay with everything that happened?” he asks, noticing my solemn mood.
“Yes, I’m fine.” It was just a blow job, for goodness’ sake. But I think some part of me knows it’s only the tip of the iceberg. Submission. Blindfolds. What’s next? Before I have time to ponder that, his cell phone rings.
He apologizes as he grabs his pants from the floor and fishes his phone from the pocket. As he looks down at the screen, he frowns. “Do you mind if I answer? It might be something important.”
“It’s fine.”
When he hits a button, the sound of feminine voice crying in the otherwise silent room startles us both. In the darkened room, he must have inadvertently activated the speaker phone.
“Hale?” she sobs, her voice frantic.
He quickly takes the phone off speaker and presses it to his ear. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” His tone is soothing, worried.
Hale…is that his name? What kind of name is that? It’s surprisingly fitting. Its association with the weather, forceful and a little scary, is just like him. I love it. I wonder who the woman is, a sister? A friend? My stomach sinks when I realize she could be another client.