Page 26 of Hired Help

“Thank you, Jess,” she says, giving a small giggle like a bubble of happiness.

I open my mouth to correct her, the name I gave her was Jesse, then say, “It’s Daegan. If you’re going to get my fake name wrong, you may as well know my real one.”

My stomach pulls tight; I’ve never given a client my real name.

“Daegan,” she repeats voice gruff with post-coital sleepiness. A sound I instantly memorise to play back later. To put on repeat like an earworm.

And that’s the reason I told her. To hear the emotion in her voice as she speaks my true name. To say it with reverence, like I’m someone to be worshipped instead of a man who’d gladly sprawl at her feet.

I hold her close, my breathing synching to hers, thinking of all the parameters I employ to keep me safe, to stop me from forming the wrong connection, to stop clients developing unsafe emotions for me.

All the parameters I’ve happily ignored in the past few weeks until my enjoyment of this girl has become deeper, more complex. A tangle of desire, friendship, and need that’s rapidly spiralling out of control.

She slides from my arms, onto her hands and knees on the floor, then turns to me, crab walking closer. “Can I do something for you?”

The same offer she made the first time, but now I get to my feet, wanting that rush of power as I stare down at her from a greater height, reaching one finger under her chin to tilt her face back, to see that eager smile and those large eyes focusing on me like I’m the only person who matters in her world.

I stare down at her eager expression, tongue literally hanging out for me, and I move my hand on her head, fingers gently stroking her like she’s a beloved pet.

“Are you sure?” I say, stomach muscles stiffening a little as I take aim at her worst fear, hoping I don’t overshoot. “Because I’ve heard that you’re rubbish in bed.”

Her lips press together, flames springing from her gaze. She sits higher, responding to the challenge. “We’re not in bed.” She reaches for my fly, unbuttoning me, unzipping me, the touch of her fingers enough to make my head roll back on my neck.

A fantasy. It’s a complete fantasy. This beautiful rich girl at my feet, begging to please me. Paying me a grotesque amount of money for the privilege of opening her mouth and taking as much of my cock as I want to dish out.

I shouldn’t let her take me in her mouth, not without protection. I shouldn’t capture her hands as she tries to cradle my arse, securing them above her head, one hand encircling her wrists while my other returns to rest on her dark hair, holding her steady as I watch her lips close around the head of my cock.

“Gentle,” I whisper, rubbing my knuckles across her cheek to let her know how well she’s doing. “That feels so good.”

And because I sense her about to start drifting, I stop letting her blow me and start fucking her face, choking her with no ability to stop me, to say when, to call time.

I thrust deep enough to make her gag, closing my eyes as the vibrations of her cough, of her attempts to swallow, to breathe, travel along my shaft, lodging in a tight knot in my balls.

“Suck,” I order her, pushing slowly against her forehead to move her off me rather than me withdraw. She’s instantly obedient, the long slow pull back is almost as good as the first thrust inside, her tongue dragging against my silken skin as her lips form a tight seal, cheeks hollowing as I leave just the tip in place to tease her. “Now run your tongue around the head. Lick me like I’m a fucking candy cane.”

She watches me the whole time, adjusting the first tentative strokes of her tongue to my reaction, learning what pleases me the way I’ve spent the last few weeks learning what pleases her. My most eager student.

My internal alarm bell rings, and I listen to it without responding, reassuring myself I’ll do something about it next time. We have another session scheduled for tomorrow and it’ll make more sense to do it then.

It’s always next time.

* * *

BROOKE

He thrusts deeper than the first time, filling my throat until panic seizes me, desire flooding my pussy to match the saliva gushing into my mouth.

In response, he spreads his large hand behind my head, holding me in place while tears stream from my eyes, my throat convulsing as my gag reflex goes to town.

“You look so pretty with my cock buried in your face and your eyes flooding.”

When I think he’s about to relax, allow me to take a breath, his grip tightens, his voice croaking. “You can hold it for a little longer, can’t you? You can handle just this tiny sampling of my cock.”

And the frightening bit is he’s right. There’s so much more to take.

I nod, eyes still streaming. Nose stuffing until even if he pulls away, I won’t be able to inhale through it.

Through the breathlessness, the surprise, I warm to the light amusement dancing in his eyes, the playfulness that only emerges when he’s getting exactly what he needs.

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