5

Lexi

I try not to look too impressed at the gorgeous luxury hotel suite, which is twice as big as my apartment. It has a separate living room, complete with a marble fireplace and ten-foot floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. I stand at the window and look down, awed.

Bobby grasps my nape and pulls me close, kissing the side of my neck.

I’m not afraid of him, but I am nervous. It’s more performance anxiety. I don’t know what I’m doing. What he wants. How this works.

He presses the backs of his fingers over my heart, and it thumps to meet them, betraying my anxiety.

“I never do this sort of thing,” I admit.

“I know,” he murmurs, his expression soft. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“What else do you like?” I’m not above fishing for compliments.

He picks up a section of my hair and runs it over his cheek. “Everything I’ve seen so far.” His voice is low and seductive. “I’m going to have a hard time holding back.” He traces my collarbone with the tip of his finger.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t” I whisper.

He smiles like a satisfied cat and leads me down the hall, his hand at the small of my back like a gentleman.

Once inside, he yanks my body against his, kissing me hard. I moan against his mouth, loving the way he takes charge. He sweeps his tongue between my lips, claiming my mouth. Owning me. His hands knead my ass, then he drags them upward, peeling the fabric of my dress from my body in a single sweep.

“Mmm.” He stands back and drinks in my black and hot pink satin bra and matching panties. “I like those.”

Thank God he didn’t catch me in my cotton Wonder Woman panties with the holes worn at the seams. Every inch of my skin heats under his dark gaze. I start to kick off my heels, but he shakes his head.

I freeze, waiting for more information.

All he says is, “Good girl.”

My pussy clenches in response. Apparently, I have a praise kink.

“You look so beautiful in nothing but those heels,” he rumbles approvingly. He slips a finger under each strap of my bra and peels the cups down slowly to reveal my breasts.

He drinks them in, appreciation evident, then he grows impatient again, yanking the bra to my waist, and crushing a hand over one of my breasts as his mouth bends to the other. He flicks his tongue over the tip of my nipple, then sucks it deep into his mouth before releasing it abruptly and nipping with his teeth.

I gasp, clawing at his arms at the brief pain he inflicted before he returns to pleasuring me. My internal muscles squeeze and clench. He moves so fast and with such confidence, he overwhelms my senses, and I melt into his touch. He strokes one hand down my belly, slipping inside the front of my panties where he brushes a finger across my dripping pussy. The shock of touch on my most sensitive parts makes me moan.

“Someone’s wet,” he murmurs approvingly, the deep rich tones of his voice reverberating through every sinew of my body. He yanks my panties down then pushes me back onto the bed. Hoisting my legs into the air, he holds my ankles with one hand and gives my ass a slap.

I gasp in surprise, squirming against the grip he already loosed to unbuckle his belt and kick off his pants and boxer briefs. I stare when he pulls off his shirt to reveal a broad, muscled chest dusted with dark curls. My eyes slide lower, where his cock juts out proudly, his erection impressive. I lick my lips, my heart skittering. No wonder he has confidence in his bedroom performance.

Despite the fact that he already knows I’m wet, he pushes my legs wide and settles between them, licking into me. I cry out at the contact, then go cross-eyed with pleasure because the man has zero trouble finding his way around my clit. He circles it with his tongue, flicks it, and somehow even manages to suck it between his lips. He rubs it with his thumb while he pushes into me with two other fingers. When he finds my G-spot and pumps against it, I screech with a surprise orgasm. My internal muscles clench around his fingers, and I squirt a little, which would’ve embarrassed me, except he chuckles. “That’s it, doll.”

He eases his fingers out and climbs off the bed. “You don’t usually orgasm with a partner, or you don’t orgasm during intercourse?” When he reappears, he has a condom in hand, which he rips open with his teeth.

“Neither…both.” My brain cells are too occupied with my pleasure centers to know how to answer the question.

“I’d say the problem was with your partner.” He kneels on the bed and sheaths his length. “Put those sexy heels over my shoulders.”

It’s bossy, but I don’t take offense. In fact, I love how he knows exactly what he wants and asks for it. It makes it easy for me to just be present. I lift my legs in the air, careful not to kick him in the face.

He wastes no time in lining his cock up with my entrance and pushing in. He’s thick and long, filling me. Stretching me. When he grips the front of my thighs to yank my ass against him, thrusting into the hilt, I cry out at the unexpected pleasure.

He stays in deep to let me adjust, groaning his own satisfaction. “You okay, doll?”

“So good,” I manage to pant.

He withdraws and repeats the action, his loins slapping against my ass. He picks up speed. “Yeah, I knew you’d be a hot fuck.” His dirty talk revs my engine, the deep rumble turning my insides to liquid heat. “You’re a perfect, sexy, willing little fuck doll, aren’t you?”

I can’t answer, not that I think he expects me to. I suddenly find myself not just wanting and willing but rather desperate to be exactly that–his willing little fuck doll. To have this man as my boss in bed. My sugar daddy. Not for the money. For this.

The pleasure. The sense of surrender to someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. How he wants it. How to make it good for me. His rough domination stokes my internal fire hotter.

I swear the entire room has caught fire. I’ve never felt so abandoned. So willingly out of control. It’s a hard fuck–aggressive, pounding–and yet my body opens like a flower to him, not just willing to give whatever he demands but deriving intense pleasure from those demands.

Orgasming with him seems to be a non-issue. I’m already close to a second one, about to break, when he pulls out. “Flip over,” he commands gruffly.

I laugh softly, not used to being ordered around during sex. I had no idea it would be such a turn-on. My role here is a sexual servant–which is somehow freeing. All the repression I’ve had in the past, the performance anxiety about doing it right, or whether I look good naked, or whatever the stupid thoughts going around in my head were–they’re all gone.

Bobby’s in charge. All I have to do is surrender to him.

Still, I lodge my complaint. “I was just about to come.”

“I know.”

Cocky bastard. The two simple words shoot me into a dizzying state of lust. He knew. He guaranteed my satisfaction back at the club, and despite what seemed like a self-centered encounter, he is paying attention. My limbs tremble as I turn around, climbing further up the bed to lie on my belly. He grabs my thighs and yanks me back toward him, my feet finding the floor in a spread eagle, my ass presented to him. A cry of need erupts as he feeds his hard cock into my slick channel and pumps. When he grasps both my shoulders to brace me for his pounding, I lose control. “Oh, God, oh yes, please!” I sob into the bedcovers.

“Not yet, cara mia. Wait for permission.”

Wait…what?

“You don’t come until I tell you.”

There’s that bossy tone again. His cocky dictates. I shouldn’t love it so much, but I do. It’s like he knows some secret about sex or this encounter that I don’t. He has a plan. He’s the master of the scene.

I breathe hard, trying to hold off the impending orgasm that shimmers and simmers right at the brink.

“Please?” I pant. I swear I don’t think I can hold it off any longer.

He continues slamming into me, his balls swinging to tap my clit, the head of his cock driving deep.

“Now, bambina. Come now, sweetheart.”

The moment he commands it, I come.

“Yeah!” he roars, slamming his cock deep inside me as he comes. My pussy squeezes around his cock, as wave after wave of release flows through me.

My mind goes blank, and I enjoy the sensation of complete surrender and satisfaction.

After a few moments, Bobby brings me back, easing out of me and murmuring, “Thank you, Lexi. That was hot.” He strokes his hand down the length of my back, his touch light.

“Mmm,” I moan, too relaxed to move.

He kisses my nape and moves away. I float again until the sensation of a warm washcloth between my thighs brings me back to the moment. I’m surprised at the gesture, but maybe I shouldn’t be.

Despite his roughness in bed, Bobby is the caretaking type. He took care of me at the club, and he took care of me here. Even during the sex, he was an extremely sensitive lover, completely in tune with me. I wonder what he would’ve done if he’d found me dry and tense, as sometimes happens when I get nervous about sex. Would he have taken the time to learn how to unlock my secrets as he claimed? It seems like he already knows them because he just revealed something about me I hadn’t known: I like being used. Commanded.

Maybe Gina was right all along. A sugar daddy is exactly what I need.

“Kick off your shoes now,” he murmurs and pulls down the covers of the bed.

I obey, and he slides an arm under my knees to lift me onto the bed, climbing over me. As if to prove my theory, he’s careful to pull my hair out from under my shoulders.

He kisses me roughly. “I’m definitely keeping you, doll.”