Page 6 of Omega Artist
“Small world, huh?”
I chuckle at that. If she’s being honest, and I’m sure she is, this is an odd coincidence.
Throughout dinner, the conversation flows, and she tells me that she’ll be graduating with a degree in interior design—so much for omitting personal details, but I don’t disclose much and she already knows too much—and will soon return to her hometown of Paris.
Oh, that’s where her accent is from.
To my dismay, the evening ends differently than usual. Most of the time, we end up in a hotel, since the girls I tend to pick are from out of town. Every now and then, we go to a studio that I rent out to paint; it’s nowhere near where I live or where I work.
TonightPrincessChanelhas a special request. “Take me to your parlor.”
It’s been a while since I’ve felt this good without any extra help. Seeing myself through her hungry eyes is flattering. I feel better. I feel strong. I feel brave.
She knows more about me than the rest of the girls I’ve met, but what’s the big deal? Hence, I oblige.
Moments later, she walks into Tig’s Tattoo and Piercing like she owns the place. “It’s good to be back.” She knows exactly where she wants to be taken. Hence, I oblige.
She peers at the chair where I took her virginity. “I’m a sucker for heavily tattooed men,” she whispers. The sense ofdéjà vureturns, but her name still eludes me. “Now, fuck me, Tig de Luca.” She knows even more than I thought she did. Hence, I oblige.
The sound of our mingling flesh. The noises of our carnal pleasure. The music of our desperate release. Spent, we stay on the sticky seat, glued to each other, for what seems like hours. Her long hair is splayed across my upper body, and I find it strangely erotic. Granted, what we partook in was far more X-rated. Now, her ear is on my chest, and I know that she’s listening to my heartbeat. This night must have messed with my mind because I break my own rule and hear myself asking if she’s free tomorrow night. Of course, she is. Relief and fear settle inside my chest. Relief, since tonight was gratifying in every sense of the word. Fear, since I wasn’t expecting to react this way.
Relax, man.PrincessChanelknows the drill. There’s no harm in fucking her again; she’ll go back to Paris soon enough.
“Would you at least tell me your name now?” She giggles like a school girl.
“Sybil.”
Chapter Two
We Are Warriors
Aliénor
“Fuck… Oh, fuck…”His masculine voice isn’t as deep as I’d like, which must be why I can’t bring myself to open my eyes and aim them at Louis. In spite of this, my eager mouth is running along his ballsack, making his knees buckle.
“Damn, you’re good.” His entitled opinion regarding my abilities isn’t solicited; I’m confident in my skills, thank you very much. His comment has the opposite effect, and I picture someone different in my mind’s eye and brace myself to continue. Nevertheless, my willing lips pepper featherlight kisses all over his proud erection, while my hand applies the right pressure around its root. He caresses the top of my head, which I despise, but I smirk when I hear him growl. I guess that my long blonde hair is getting in the way and spoiling his visual; the guy must watch too much porn.
In all honesty, now that I think about it, I should have ended this the last time that I saw him.
Louis and I were introduced a few months ago at a mutual friend of a friend’s birthday party and we hit it off. He was athletic, funny, and amiable. Another perk was that, for once, Father hadn’t pushed me into this relationship by interfering with my life, as usual. Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to sample the goods and discover that he’s too self-centered to be an attentive lover, to say the least.
That first time, clueless Louis struggled to find and appropriately push my pleasure button. I remember tutoring him on the female anatomy and erogenous zones while in action. Thankfully, he’s been a fast study, so I overlooked the fact that the spark that I felt for him as a person wore off when we were between the sheets. So, you’re probably wondering why I’m here, in his Parisian bachelor pad, with his uncut dick facing me. Apparently, I dig a challenge, and Louis has a reputation of being too busy to keep a girl for more than a couple of days. For some twisted reason, I was flattered that he felt differently about me; I even wondered if it would turn into something steady.
I should have known better. His lack of genuine interest in my pleasure, his laziness in the bedroom, and his uncut dick weren’t good omens. The latter should have been my cue to run for the hills. I blame it on the Anglo-Saxon in me, but I prefer a man to be clean cut, which isn’t the norm in France. Sue me! But I persevered. Only his… glitch reinforced my initial reluctance to drop to my knees, not because I’m delicate, but rather because I wrongly associated it with accepting a submissive role. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you’re into it, but I’m not. If anything, I’m the epitome of the anti-submissive. It took several interesting conversations with my third boyfriend to realize that, in doing so, I held all the power, but let’s not get into that now. For the moment, I put the pedal to the metal and push the disturbing thoughts to the back of my mind.
“Yeah, just like that, babe.” His encouragements increase as his breathing becomes ragged, but I can’t stand his term of endearment. It reflects his true commanding self and I scold myself for not noticing it sooner. Instinctively, I pause for a second and pop my brown eyes open to capture his. He interrupts my rambling thoughts. “Why d’ya stop?” Despite his whiney complaining undertone, his pleading question amuses me, nearly as much as the desperate expression that flashes in his eyes. I resume my TLC. “Right there… oh, fuck.” Here we go again with the expletives. Though I’m fond of showing how much I’m enjoying myself and giving instructions, I’m not a fan of the chatty ones. I tune him out and concentrate on the task at hand, swirling the tip of my tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and sending him into overdrive. He’s reduced to grunts as he shivers under my ministrations. I picture the faceless and extraordinary man that my imagination has fabricated over the years, once my eyes are shut again.
“Stop teasing and suck it already!” Wrapping my long, blonde hair around his hand, he yanks me closer, and I let him, suppressing my gag reflex as he relentlessly slams into the back of my mouth. I inhale through my nose as I let him fuck my mouth. No matter how compliant he thinks I am, I don’t really allow him to set the pace. I’m the one in control here. I’m the one holding his balls to prove it. I’m the one who takes him to the brink and slows down before finally putting an end to this charade.
“Fuck, you’re as gifted as they say.”
I had heard of his reputation and had no doubt that mine preceded me, but I’d never fathomed he’d express it;I’m as gifted as they say. Who the fuck arethey?
Hurt, I stand up tall, run my thumb over my mouth to erase the evidence of what he referred to as the blow-job of the century, and swallow my pride as well as the last drop of him. The satisfied expression that lingers on his face as he awkwardly tucks his flaccid cock into his boxer briefs tells me plenty, and I glare at him in return.
As I exit the bedroom, I turn back to him and snarl, “Go fuck yourself! You don’t deserve me or my talents.” Fortunately, I didn’t take my clothes off today. I show myself out and slam his front door behind me.
Good riddance.
