The Tenant (18+) (Sample)

Three

"Never pretend you're not interested," he says, low and feral. I nod; I'd agree with anything he says right now just for him to carry on. "Or I'll remind you how much you fucking want me, again and again if I have to."

"Yes," I say, both in agreement and pleasure.

"Good girl."

     Christopher removes himself from me, a mischievous glint in his eye as he bends down to strip me of my pants and underwear. The cold air brushes over my core, almost painful because of its heightened sensitivity.

     Powerless under his touch, I let him guide me back to the stool, my bare ass pressed where just moments ago I had been enjoying breakfast. He pries my legs apart, warm hands clasped at the tops of my thighs. The sharp sting of his nails digging into the skin only increases my anticipation. Time seems to slow, each second dripping into the other like wax from a candle as he kneels down before me.

"Do you want me to lick your pussy?" He asks, a wry smile playing across his face as he looks at me with hooded eyes. The warmth of his breath bats against my cold skin, and I shiver.

"Yes," I beg, clasping his face between my hands and pulling him further forward. He laughs, a deep, throaty sound, and resists.

"Say it," he prompts, his palms pressing harder into my thighs. "Say what you want and I'll do it."

"I want you to lick my pussy," I say, the words tumbling out in quick succession.

     Christopher is quick to grant my request, a low grumble escaping his full lips as they connect with my sensitive skin. He kisses up my thighs, taking extra care with the areas marked red from his grasp, teasing every inch of skin until I'm begging him to kiss me where I need it most. His thumb assumes its position on my cl!t, moving in slow circles as he brings his mouth to me. His tongue licks slowly and softly at my slit, tasting the arousal he's brought me.

     When I moan in response, he loses all patience. He grows frustrated, moving his fingers to my entrance and enveloping my clit in the wet warmth of his mouth. Every movement, every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue, is perfectly choreographed; It's a dance created entirely to be my undoing.

"Oh, Christopher," I moan, weaving my fingers through his hair to pull him closer. He grunts against my skin, the vibrations doing amazing fucking things to me, as I roll my hips in time with his movements.

     The tension in my stomach is unbearable, a tight knot that makes me body scream for euphoric release. We work together in rhythmic unison until I find it, my body shaking with the intensity of my orgasm. Pleasure rolls through me, the walls of my core clenching and unclenching against his fingers as he sucks lightly on my cl!t.

     I've never felt anything so gratifying in my life.

     With release comes crushing sobriety, the reality of it all hitting me at once – I'm half naked on in my tenant's kitchen, having had the best orgasm of my life because of his magic touch. Christopher pulls away from my crotch, his green eyes wrinkled with a smug smile like this is something natural; like it's perfectly acceptable to have tongue fucked your landlady in the apartment you rent from her.

"Oh my god," I say, jumping from the stool and grabbing frantically at my clothes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't- this shouldn't have happened."

"What?" Christopher asks, grabbing my wrist as I reach for my red lace panties.

"I'm not here for this. Having your face buried in my--" I say, stopping myself as I cringe with embarrassment. "It's blurring the line between professional and personal."

"The line between professional and personal was obliterated when I had you moaning my name. What's the use in trying to salvage it, when we may as well enjoy it?"

     Christopher's touch brands the skin of my wrist, and I yank it away from him. The confused look he gives me, paired with the subtle downturn of the mouth that brought me earth-shattering relief, has me questioning whether I can really keep away from him. My first instinct is to abandon all attempts at professionalism; to seize his shoulders with my arms and curl my legs around his waist, stripping him of everything other than his own pleasure.

     But I can't. I grab my clothes wordlessly and rush back to the guest room, the sound of my moans playing in loop in my head. Why had I given myself to him so easily?

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Author's Note:

Hey!

So, it's only been 4 days since I posted this, and I'm pretty shocked that it's doing well already. Over 3 parts, we're nearing 1K reads, and that's just fucking madness. Not that amount of reads matters, but it's good to know my writing can't be all that bad, right?!

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it ;)

Updates will be on Fridays, as they are with Cutting Through The Haze

Hayles❧