The Client (18+ Only)

3: In Which She Completely Sucks

My mother taught me that beating around the bush was a complete waste of time if you weren’t immortal or Donald Trump. So, hands on the back of his head, I dragged his head down and claimed his mouth in a fierce kiss. Reed’s eyes became hooded and then he was kissing me back, placing a hand at the back of my head to hold me there. I opened my mouth for him, allowing his tongue to meet mine, allowing him to taste me. I moaned, unconsciously rubbing myself against him, and he groaned in response. My eyes slammed shut but my hands were working between us, fumbling with the zipper of his shorts.

“Lena,” Reed said breathlessly, raising his head. His hands strayed down my back and cupped my ass, pulling me to him and making it increasingly difficult for me to free his c0ck. “Please.”

My hands stilled and my heart thumped in my chest. Please? If it was possible, my cúnt was weeping in earnest now, soaking my satin panties. I made myself finish the task of unzipping him and then Willy was free and I came to the conclusion that it was illegal for him to have ever been in captivity in the first place.

Get a damn grip, Len.

Grip. Yeah. I needed to grip something, all right. I gripped Reed – well, tried to – and he jerked in my hand, murmuring something. He was almost as thick as my wrist and harder than concrete. He let out a low moan, the moan I had been fantasising about all through last night, and it was all I could do not to f.uck him right then and there.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice hoarse.

“I’m going to suck you now, Reed,” I told him, hardly able to keep from licking my lips. I was satisfied by the way his hips rocked and his c0ck moved in my hand but I had never wanted to deep-throat a guy like I wanted to deep-throat Reed Lancaster. “I might not get all of you inside me but I need to taste you. I promise you can come inside my mouth. Ever come inside someone’s mouth before?”

He shook his head, biting down on his already-swollen lower lip. “N-never d-done this.”

“What, had a handjob? Blowjob?” What sane woman would not want to handle his díck? The women I knew would take damn pictures just to have solid proof they’d ever seen more than eight inches.

“Sex.”

That one word hung in the air like a planet and Reed pulled away from me.

“Just fúcking go,” he grunted, not meeting my eye.

I shook myself out of my brief stupor. “Reed, come here. I kind of had my suspicions about that.”

His head jerked up. “Gee, thanks,” he snarled. “What gave it away? The way I stutter my ass off whenever I’m less than two feet away from you? Or the way I jerked off last night because you wore a fúcking turtleneck and when I look at you for even a nanosecond, it’s all I can do not to come in my pants?”

“Do you realise that you don’t stammer when you’re yelling at me?” I took a step towards him. He didn’t step back. “I like your stutter, Reed. I think it’s cute.”

“C-cute?”

“Yes.” I fell to my knees before him, reaching for his shorts. “I really want to suck you off. Will you let me?”

His eyes were dark with arousal as he took in the image of me on my knees. I, for one, liked my view. I reached for him and grasped his shaft in both hands, running my thumb along the slippery tip and eliciting a low, pained groan from Reed when I began to stroke him.

“That feels… Shít, it feels –” He let out a gasp when I made my first attempt at putting him in my mouth. Hips pistoning, he placed his hands on my head, sinking his fingers into my loose hair.