Sugar High

Make Me Cum, Right Here, Right Now

I step into the elevator that's going to take me up to the penthouse suite and for a moment I can't even work out why I'm here.

Callan had been a jerk, he had humiliated me and I in turn had humiliated him in the back of his limo. We should have gone our separate ways that night and never looked back and yet here I am, meeting him in a hotel, the price he's paying for my company telling me he expects a little more than dinner and polite conversation but I'm here, I'm dressed to impress and for some reason I'm not backing out

Catching sight of myself in the glass of the elevator, I smile proudly and run a hand over my ass. I look hot and I know it.

My high waisted pencil skirt hugs and accentuates my ass perfectly. The black, turtle neck cropped t-shirt shows a sliver of the skin of my waist and my heels make the toned muscles of my calves pop. My hair is loose and my makeup is light, any man that can resist me like this is an absolute saint, something I know the man I'm about to spend the evening with is definitely not.

Why I have dressed to impress him when I had cock blocked him so ferociously the week before I don't know, all I know is he has been on my mind. Not the guy in the ballroom, not the one that had hi-fived his friends and sneered in my direction but the one I had first met. The one with the twinkle in his eyes and the million kilawatt smile.

Exiting the elevator I huff in a deep breath and prepare myself to meet which ever version of 'Callan' he has decided to show up as tonight.

"Hey Mila..." his voice is light and his face visibly brightens at the sight of me and my stomach does an unexpected flip. Forcing my body to behave I fix him with a stern glare

"I'm not having sex with you"

Callans laugh is loud against the quietness of the room but it is genuine and I remember how much I had liked it when we first met.

"We'll see about that" he whispers into my ear as I raise a hand to his chest and push him away, a smile fighting for dominance on my lips

"So, what do you think of the suite?" Callan asks, looking very proud of the fact he had managed to get it just one week after asking when usually there was a month's long wait

"It's fine, I have stayed here before" I inform him whilst dropping down on the soft, brown leather sofa

"You have? Why choose it then? I said any hotel, any city"

"I like this hotel, my dad used to bring us here for New Years Eve"

"This suite?" I nod and pull out my phone, to check my messages "Any hotel in any city and you choose a suit you used to come to with your dad?"

"Wild right?"

"Fuckin weird if you ask me" Callan walks past me and reaches for a bottle of Vueve Clicquot "I think I need a drink to wipe those images from my brain"

"What images?" I asked innocently, my eyes wide and my smile threatening to spill over my lips

"Me fuckin you in the bed where you dad once lay" on his final word the cork pops from the bottle and Callan lifts a finger to his lips and sucks the spillage off whilst staring me down. His eyes saying a thousand words

"Drink?"

"Of course"

He takes two glasses and fills them with the bubbly liquid

"What shall we toast to?"

"To you keeping it in your pants"

 He stifles a smile and shakes his head

"To getting to know each other in, and out of pants" he winks smugly before lifting the glass to his full, pink pout and taking in a long sip. My heart rate picking up slightly at the things the evening may hold

Dinner is served on the balcony and the conversation flows easily, Callan speaks about his job, his childhood in Canada and touches on his unconventional relationship with his girlfriend. I on the other hand just listen and ask questions, being attentive and interested without giving too much away about myself. Memories of the man Callan could become forcing me to keep any information about me and my real life locked behind my lips.

After dinner Callan pours us both a shot of Baileys, the Irish liqueur burning my throat and causing my body to feel warm and soft.

Moving to the sofa, we observe a comfortable silence as we enjoy our drinks as well as enjoying the view of each other.

Callan is dressed in a plain white t shirt and light blue jeans, his feet are now bare and as the t-shirt pulls tight over his chest and biceps I start to acknowledge the heat of want beginning to build low below my belly button.

Placing my glass down on to the coffee table, I lift my head and gaze into his golden brown eyes and watch his lips lifting into a knowing smile

"So, tell me Mila, how did a girl like you end up in an occupation like this?" His hand drops to my knee as his finger tips began massaging patterns into the material of my skirt

"I was looking for a way to piss off my dad if I'm being honest. I don't need the money but he's a dick and it would really sicken him to know I was going on dates for money and that kind of makes me happy"

"Just dates, what about the rest of it?" his voice is low as his fingers slowly rub higher up my thigh, his glass being set aside in the process

"There is no 'rest of it' sex is sex, if I choose to do that with someone I meet on the site it will be because I'm in the mood for sex, not because they are paying me to have sex, I'm not a whore but I'm not a prude either" I lift his hand from my thigh and just as he's about to protest I move it to my hip and then move in, closing the space between us and when I hesitate as though I'm about to change my mind, Callans hands shoots out and takes hold of my face, before I have time to breathe his lips are against my own, his sweet breath mingling with mine, massaging kisses into my mouth as his fingers take hold of my waist and pull me into his arms.

**********************

There is nothing soft or delicate about the makeout session that follows. I am burning with want and I can't find it in myself to downplay it. My hands grip her hips and then her ass, her thighs and then her chest. My mouth moves faster against hers, my fingers unable to touch as much of her as I want to, as my entire body needs to. 

Milas hands roam up under my t-shirt, following the lines of my abs and chest and then brushing backwards and forwards over my nipples with her thumbs. As she reaches down to plam my crotch I groan loudly before heaving her onto my lap and guiding her hips to move frantically against my own

"Fuck..." I pull her skirt up and push it to her waist revealing a black lacy thong "Fuuuck" She grabs the hem of my t shirt and rips it over my head before I bury my head in the crook of her neck and allow my hand to travel under her shirt and explore every inch of the soft skin of her breasts

"Bedroom" I growl "Now!" but Mila just pushes herself away from me and slips back on to the couch beside me panting and attempting to regain control of her breathing "Where the fuck are you going?" In a split second I'm over her, hands roaming her thighs and my mouth exploring hers once more but moving a hand to my chest she pushes me back

"Don't stop me" my eyes must be pleading as I see her notice my dick straining hard against my jeans. I'm on the edge of losing control and Mila is looking at me as though she has never seen a more beautiful sight in her life

"You want me?" she asks, her own voice rough with lust "Make me cum"

"Get into the bedroom and and I make you cum all night" I grip my clothed crotch and squeeze, moaning and closing my eyes, imagining the pleasure to come

"One condition" My eyes snap open as I look at her intently "You make me cum right here, right now, using only your mouth and I'm yours for the night. Everything and anything you want I'm here for you. What do you think Callan? Are you capable of giving pleasure as well as taking it? Deal or no deal?"

Fuuuuck!