It shouldn't be this momentous, this startling. She had been the one to file, after all. He had been cheating with several women. Given her a lovely STI which had thankfully been cured with a hefty course of antibiotics. She had, perhaps dumbly, offered to try to save their marriage. The sting of him looking at her, blankly, replying only "What for?" before turning back to his car, back to their house, back to his bed that would have some other woman in it...it still hurt. She had left him the house, with too many ugly memories for her to be comfortable there. Now she had this quiet little apartment, a storage unit downtown with the rest of the belongings appointed to her by the court, a clean bill of health, a hefty settlement check, and an empty bed to come home to at night. The loneliness was the worst part. It had been hell the past year with her ex, but at least she had had somebody to fight with, to talk to, to just share a space with. Now, she was alone, talking to white walls and an oversized television for her living room. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up crazy. And she wasn't the crazy one here. She hadn't given up a loving spouse for a series of women who couldn't be better than her in bed. Right?
Margaret pushed her hair behind her ears, still getting used to the face-framing layers the stylist had put in when she decided a makeover was in order last week. Her dark hair swept elegantly back to draping her shoulders, a big change from the waist-length tresses she had kept up since high school. The new make-up routine, taught by a veritable artist with a powder brush, had her practicing smoky eyes and intense red lip colors that had caught the attention of all her co-workers. The girls had squealed over the changes, and had offered a shopping trip for a wardrobe to match her new face. She checked her watch, and grimaced. That would be in five minutes. She shoved the divorce decree, signed by the judge she had only met twice, back in the envelope and slid it into her desk drawer before pushing herself to her feet. This is a good thing, she repeated to herself as she gathered her keys and purse to leave. You haven't done anything like this in years, and a new look for a new you should help heal this hole in your heart.
"There is no way this is appropriate for work."
Susan giggled over her handful of draped garments. "Well, it's not really for the office. You have absolutely nothing for going out."
"Going out as what? A desperate woman?"
Margaret tried to adjust the top of the very small black bodycon dress. It was clinging to every curve she had, and even some she didn't know she had. Losing all that weight during the divorce process had eliminated any trace of a tummy. Her clothes fit appropriately, but she never really showed her figure off. It didn't seem to fit her personality. She liked wine, reading booking, quiet evenings with someone special. Not clubbing. She was in her thirties—much too old for that kind of nonsense.
"Not desperate. Sexy. Huge difference." Susan paused. "Though desperately sexy can fit nicely. It's been a long time for you."
Margaret groaned. "Don't remind me."
"You know, there are things that can help with that."
Didn't she know it. Over the past eight months, she had made enough sex toy purchases at an online shop to completely fill a carefully-concealed box in her closet. Each had gotten a good regular workout, and she kept her three favorites in her nightstand drawer. Lately, she had been pulling them out every night, reaching a climax that was both a release and yet disappointing. As horrible as sex with a cheating man could be, there was something about being brought to the edge and then crashing into pleasure by the ministrations of another. And nothing synthetic could ever truly replace a man's equipment. Sorry, but no. There was so much more to satisfying sex than vibrations and friction. The slight unpredictability. The creativity. The varying positions and the endurance.... She shook her head. She couldn't keep going down this path.
"I really don't know if I can pull this off."
"Your figure is smoking hot, girl."
"No, really—I mean I am not sure how I'll ever get out of it." She turned to the side and let out an exaggerated breath. Susan laughed, and set aside the dresses to help her unzip. She patted her lightly on the back and pushed a deep red option into her arms. "Try this one."
Margaret dutifully obeyed, and hesitantly exited the fitting room in the new dress. It clung her to her much like the bodycon dress had, but there was a lot more to it. The top, more of a structured swath of fabric with corset-like ties in the back, had built-in underwires to hold up her C-cups with little effort. The soft fabric curved over her breasts in a sweetheart curve before dipping down to her mid back. The lace skirt flared gently over her hips and down to just below her mid-thighs in the front, much longer in the back. Long enough that she could sit comfortably, but short enough to more than display her legs encased in the garter and tights the girls had insisted she buy at the lingerie store they had stopped at first. "Start with the foundation, then move to the window dressing." Well, it certainly made an impact. Margaret stared, nearly dumbfounded, at the satin and lace material showing her off in a way she had never seen before. She looked like a dancer, or even a model, but with a realistic body. Glamorous yet fun. And, dare she say it, really hot.
Susan's low whistle changed to a shriek of delight as Margaret spun, letting the skirt twirl gently around her thighs. "Girls! I think we've found the perfect one!"
Janice and Kimberly dashed over from where they had been ransacking the clothing racks, and they all cooed and trilled in excitement. Margaret blushed.
"Everything okay in here?"
Susan spun on the fitting room attendant. "Can she wear that out of here? It'd be a crime to ask her to take it off. Look at her!"
The woman smiled. "She's breathtaking, all right. I'll arrange it. Do you want me to add it to your other selections?"
Margaret paused. This trip was going to put a little bit of a dent in her settlement check, but she shrugged it off. She had a great job, and saving for a new house would still be possible if she splurged. She nodded, and looked back in the mirror.
"I only wish a certain someone could see you like this. He can't have you back, and he'd kick himself dead for it."
Her smile dimmed at Kimberly's comment. He could have had her back. She had offered, but she wasn't worth it. She had dressed up for him on occasion, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing had been enough. The chances of finding another guy who would think she was enough...she didn't want to think about that.
The enthusiasm of her friends shoved her out of her darkening mood, and she stood still while the attendant clipped the security tag out of the dress and bagged up the clothes she had been wearing. From jeans and a simple blouse to an outfit like this. All she needed was—
"Shoes next!"
The women practically dragged her to a store down the block, not willing to wait for her to take even a moment to breathe. Before she had a second to think, Margaret had been deposited into a surprisingly plush fitting chair. The ladies scattered throughout the store, trying to find just the right heels to match the dress.
"May I help you?"
The words were deep, like velvet. Her eyes started at polished black leather shoes, neatly ironed slacks, then up to a button-down shirt that did nothing to hide a rather well-built torso. She'd bet there was a good six-pack behind those buttons as her gaze traveled up to luscious full lips, kind eyes, and a swath of dark curly hair. He had to be at least five years past her age, but absolutely full of youth and vigor. The kind of man she had always dreamed of dating, with deep features of long lines of Latin men, before she had settled for her rather pale and short husband. Ex-husband.
"I appear to need better shoes to go with this outfit."
He quickly assessed her comfortable flats. "They don't seem to have the right character for such a lovely dress and a lovely woman. What did you have in mind?"
She paused. She hadn't really thought of that. Should she go crazy, go for heels? She had rarely worn them, finding them usually insanely uncomfortable.
"I'm not exactly sure. I'm used to more business-style shoes. Lower heels, flats, that sort of thing. But I think it's time for something really different."
"Well, what would you see yourself doing in these shoes?"
Locking them around your back as you make me forget every bad sexual encounter I've had in the past four years of marriage. Her breath caught as she dismissed the thought. Where had that come from? The salesclerk assessed her, hair to toes, slowly, and she blushed.
"That seems like a dancing outfit. Perhaps some pretty heels for dancing? Do you salsa, perhaps?"
"Salsa?" She ruffled a hand through her hair. "I haven't danced salsa since college."
"Nothing like a night in a beautiful dress and a new pair of heels to shake off the rust. I think I have just the thing in the back. What's your size?"
"Six."
"I'll bring a few back, find just the right fit. Hold on a moment."
He truly was gone only a moment, returning swiftly with unassuming black shoe boxes. He placed them on a low table to her left, then took a seat on a low stool in front of her. He lifted the first lid, and a pair of strappy dancing heels, made to be flexible with extra cushioning where it counted, slipped into his hands. The black color was dotted with tiny red flowers almost the exact color of her dress.
"Those are amazing!"
He smiled broadly. "We are proud of our selections here. I've never had an unsatisfied customer in my store."
There was something to how he said it that made a tingle wriggle its way down her spine. The tingle intensified as she nodded her assent to him to place the shoe on her foot. His hands were warm, strong, and firm as he slid off her flat and deftly buckled the tiny straps of the high heel. He lowered her leg, the reached for her other. If he lifted your leg just a touch higher, looked up, he'd see straight up to your new fancy bikini briefs and that garter belt. The blush reached her chest by the time she shook off the image. He finished securing the shoe to her left foot, then smiled. "What do you think?" Her pedicure from her salon trip last week looked perfect in the shoes. A deep red polish. It was fate. She stared at the shoes for a few beats too long, missing the man rising and holding out his hand to her. It wavered slightly in her peripheral vision before she caught the gesture. Blushing harder, she accepted the hand up and rose somewhat gracefully to her feet. A few steps in the shoes shook out the balance issue, and she began moving with ease.
"These are actually really comfortable!"
He chuckled, striding over to adjust the left buckle a notch. "They're made to last. They may pinch a bit until you break them in, but after a day or two of dancing, you'll hardly notice they're on your feet."
"I think I'm in love."
Maybe she meant that in more than one way. Standing this close to him, breathing in a heady cologne she couldn't quite place, his head even with her knees...oh, she prayed that the dampness beginning in certain areas wouldn't be noticeable.
"Would you like to wear them out?"
She nodded, and he swiftly turned to gather up her flats and place them into the tissue of the shoebox. His backside was in plain view, stretching the fabric of his pants. It was glorious. She snapped her eyes up as he rose and led her to the counter.
"Will you need anything else?"
You inside me. She blinked. "A place to wear them to, I think."
"I can help with that." He pointed out a business card to the left of the register. "There's a great salsa club downtown. Strong drinks, good specials, and always lots of people to dance with. You'll have an amazing time."
She considered it, fingering the edges of the card. Before she had a chance to respond, Janice, Kimberly, and Susan half-crashed into the counter beside her.
"Sorry! We got distracted by those gorgeous boots in the window."
"Ohh, look at those heels! I love them!"
Susan was the most direct, noting not the shoes but the man holding her credit card. "Looks like you got some good help here."
"I can help you ladies with those boots in just a moment, if you like."
Kimberly waved a hand. "Not today. Today is all about getting our Margaret here back into the world and feeling like the foxy lady she is." She leveled a teasing gaze at the clerk. "But tomorrow can be about us and those boots. We're all a size seven, if you want to be prepared."
He laughed easily, a rich sound that coated her nerves like melted chocolate. "I'll do that. If tonight's about Margaret getting out," he leveled his gaze at her, "I just told her about Salsa Mango. It's a fantastic club. You should all go tonight."
Susan squealed. "That sounds fabulous, and she is certainly dressed for it, isn't she?"
"Indeed she is."
Margaret tried to breathe through the heat rushing yet again to her face as she signed the credit slip. "Thank you so much, for everything."
"My pleasure, Margaret." He held out his hand, and she took it. The tingles returned.
She left the store surrounded by her friends animatedly chatting about making plans for the evening. She let them sweep her along as they stopped at houses to change and then a restaurant to order fajita salads. It all seemed a rushed blur until they were standing in the entry of Salsa Mango, handing their IDs to the bouncer, and making a beeline for the bar. The club was gorgeous. An interesting mix of glamour and Latin style, it made for a place that felt comfortable yet exciting. The music was already turned up and pulsing fast rhythms Margaret felt through the soles of her dancing shoes. The first shot of tequila had her grimacing. The second spread a comfortable warmth through her body, and she felt herself swaying her hips to the beat, the hem of her skirt brushing against her calves.
"Come on! Let's go!"
Susan pulled her onto the floor, and within moments the four were dancing to a fun remix of a popular radio hit. They made it through three songs before a tango started to play, and the three returned to the bar.
"Another round of shots for my ladies!"
Margaret groaned at Janice's over-energetic cry to the bartender. "Make mine a strawberry daquiri, double the rum. I've had enough tequila."
"What's wrong with tequila?"
She grimaced. "Bad college memories."
"Hangover from hell?"
Margaret shook her head. "Ever hear that country song about the girl who strips down every time she drinks tequila?"
"YES! I LOVE THAT SONG!"
Kimberly would. "It's rather true for me. I lose my inhibitions a bit too quickly, and I've already had two shots. A third would make me likely to—"
"To what, exactly?"
That rich voice. She knew it even before she turned around. The man from the shoe store. He was dressed in gray pinstripe slacks that did nothing to hide his powerful body, and a deep red shirt. Nearly the same color as her dress. She swallowed hard.
"We match."
He smiled. "I...was inspired."
"What are you doing here?"
He held up a finger to the bartender, then gestured to the ladies. "Put them on my tab tonight, Gerard."
"Whatever you say, boss."
Kimberly turned on the salesclerk. "Boss?"
He shrugged. "I own the club."
"Wait a second." Susan elbowed in, having already downed her shot of tequila. "You own a club, but you work at a shoe store?"
"I also own that store. It has a side specialty of dance shoes, so there's synergy there. I normally don't work the floor, but my manager is on maternity leave and the clerk scheduled had a family emergency, so I pitched in to help until relief staff could be arranged." He looked from Susan and back to Margaret, and warmth—though from him or the alcohol she couldn't tell—spread through every inch of her. "It seems to have been a fateful choice on my part."
He reached around Margaret, brushing past her hip as he grasped the daiquiri and a shot of tequila. He handed both to her. "Shall we tempt fate?"
"Do it!"
The chorus of support from her friends pushed her past her last vestiges of self-control as she downed the shot, then took a healthy sip of her mixed drink to counter the bitter taste left behind. She drank again, keeping up the eye contact with her surprising host. A heavy salsa beat blared through the speakers, and he held out a hand to her.
"Care to break in those shoes?"
She looked over at her friends who made no effort to hide their enthusiastic approval. She turned back. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"You tell me your name."
He grinned, and took her hand in his. "Jorge."
Within moments they were near the center of the dance floor, Jorge spinning her expertly into his arms. She laughed, and concentrated on keeping up with his impressive dance skills as best she could. She missed a few turns, but slowly began to improvise around his steps. He made it easy for her, using her shoulders, elbows, and firms grasps on her hips to guide her against and around him. Over and over their bodies made contact, and each time her desire grew. She hadn't felt this kind of intense, building hunger for so long, and as much as it hurt in its pent-up state, it also felt amazing. When he pulled her leg over his hip and dipped her backwards, she reveled in the feeling of his fingers on her thigh, pressing against the clips of her stockings. His hand traveled down as he dipped her lower, then masterfully pulled her upright in a move that pressed them tightly together. The fast turns, shifts in gravity, and the alcohol were mixing together in a delicious concoction. She was getting bolder, shimmying her hips against him, turning so her behind rubbed at his thighs. He pulled her closer, grinding quickly before releasing her into a turn, then pulling her back. As his fingers trailed over her neck and upper back, the hunger transformed into a raging need. She wanted him, and right now she didn't care about the fear of rejection that scarred her heart. The song ended with him twirling her tight against him, their chests heaving in unison as her head rested on his shoulder. A slow song began, and he began swaying with her. His hands caressed her back, lifting one arm to his shoulder before returning to keep her tight against him.
"You are a marvelous dancer."
"Thank you."
"I'd never know you were out of practice. You move with a grace and sensuality that fits a professional."
"I think it's the alcohol, and a good partner."
"I think you're a lot better than you give yourself credit for."
She smiled, relaxing into his hold. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, I rarely dance with the customers. I teach a few classes, but you—" He spun her slowly, then pulled her back. "You bring something out in me, something different. Something I rather like."
There was heat in his gaze, the kind she imagined was in her own. His left hand settled low on her hip, and she ached for him to hold her tighter, to drift down, cup her, take her against him in a gesture that left no questions about intentions. Maybe it was his frank appreciation for her, the fact she was quickly approaching tipsy, or that he seemed to have practically stepped right out of one her of masturbatory fantasies and into her arms, but something in her snapped. She leaned forward and kissed him. In half a second she broke it, pulling back slightly. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she forgot how to breathe. What had she done? Fears settled over her mind. Salsa was a sexy dance naturally, and didn't mean that he wanted her like that. He was just being kind to someone he sold a pair of shoes to. New make-up, a hairdo, and a wardrobe change didn't mean that she was suddenly desirable to men. Then she felt his hand move up to her neck, cradling her head.
His lips settled over hers swiftly, moving in a tantalizing rhythm she instinctively followed. His tongue flicked at her lips, and she parted them, allowing him to explore her. He tasted of dark roast coffee and a hint of rum—or was that her on him? Her sensations were overloaded with the kiss as it deepened. She pressed against him, pulling his chest into hers. Something began to make itself known between them, long and hard. The unmistakable proof of his desire for her drove out the last of her fears and worries. She abandoned herself to the growing passion between them, enjoying his touch. Her body responded, growing wetter by the second, her breasts beginning to ache. As the soulful notes of the last repeat of the chorus echoed around them, she reluctantly broke the kiss.
"Jorge." She paused to catch her breath. "Do you remember what you said to me at the store? About you never having an unsatisfied customer?"
"Yes."
She trailed a finger along his jaw. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not satisfied."
His smile was quick and intense, full of promise. "I pride myself on my customer service. Would you like to come with me and discuss your complaint?"
She grinned, and he took her hand. They wove through the dense crowd of dancers until they reached the bar. He pulled out a card from his pocket, and slid it over the lock. The door popped open, and Margaret found herself being led down a hallway to a door marked "Private Office." The card once again swiped at the reader, and he pushed the door open for her. "After you."
She walked in and heard the door close behind her, sealing out the noise of the club. Without taking more than a moment to note the nice artwork, expansive desk, curtained windows, and a comfortable seating area with two large couches, she turned just as he reached for her. He kissed her, hard, and she responded happily, tilting her head so he could better tease her tongue with his. His hands clutched her bottom, pressing her hips firmly against the bulge in his pants. She moaned as it grew bigger against her, and she pushed a hand between them to grip him. He was an impressive size, but not so big it worried her. All she knew was that he was already rock hard, and she desperately wanted him inside her. She squeezed gently, and he groaned. Pushing her hand away, he spun her around, facing away from him. His lips landed on the sensitive spots on her neck and shoulders. Fire raced through her body as she trembled. She pulled his hands to cover her breasts. His fingers cupped her, but there wasn't enough room between the bodice and her skin for him to work his way in. A whine escaped her before she could stop it, and she felt him quickly push her slightly forward. In seconds, he loosened the corset top and tugged. She lifted her arms, and in one pull he flung it, and shortly the skirt, across the room. She turned towards him, and his eyes zeroed in on her breasts.
"Incredible. Just incredible."
His fingers reached for the orbs, massaging them gently, then squeezing as she moaned. His palms rubbed against the hard nipples, triggering another flood of moisture between her legs. She cried out as Jorge dropped his head to dart his tongue against one of the taut buds. The pleasure was just beyond anything she remembered. She needed him, and she needed him now. The licking transformed into suckling, his tongue flicking against the very tips, back and forth in an unpredictable pattern that kept her gasping. She clutched him to her, then pulled his head back to catch his mouth again with hers. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, and he made quick work of stripping it off.
Her instincts in the store had been right on the money. He was definitely a man who took good care of his body. Her fingers paused to tease flat nipples, eliciting a delicious groan from deep in his throat, before moving to his belt buckle. Her hand dove into the silky briefs, grasping him firmly. He groaned again. She stroked his length twice as he pushed his pants to the floor, then somehow stepped out of his socks and shoes. She took a moment to admire his glorious nakedness before increasing the speed of her touch. His breath rose in a faster rhythm, his eyes closing for just a moment before he stilled her hand, tipping up her chin to kiss her deeply again.
His cock pressed hard against her panties, and her need intensified. Pulling on the strings on either side of her hips, she released the scant fabric, leaving her wearing only her garter, stockings, and shoes. His gaze drifted down, his expression full of admiration and hunger.
"I want to taste you."
He took her hand and led her to the couch, seating her on the back. He knelt before her, spreading her legs to his dark gaze. She trembled as the anticipation built. He draped her legs over his shoulders, then pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. Her hands gripped the back of the couch as his mouth slowly made its way up, occasionally licking at the sensitive skin until she whimpered. When she felt his breath hot on her swollen lips, her entire body shuddered.
"I see you're as ready for this as I am."
Before she could respond, his fingers parted her and his lips began nibbling at the hot, moist flesh. His tongue found her clit, and she cried out. He settled into a rhythm that fed the fire inside her, teasing both the most sensitive place in her body and the entrance that craved him. His fingers dove inside her, and she bucked against him. He continued his sweet torture as the pressure built, and her cries began rising in pitch. Her hand grasped the back of his head as the explosions began, her body jerking as her orgasm swept over her. She screamed as she rode the last wave, his fingers still doing marvelous things inside her while his tongue teased furiously over her clit. Her body tensed one last time, then sank limply against him. She heard him chuckle, feeling limp as a rag doll as he tenderly pulled her into his arms, cradling her.
"That was a sight to behold, Margaret."
She sighed, the ripples of pleasure beginning to make way for another, deeper hunger. Strength slowly filled her limbs. She ran her hands over his back, stopping to caress his deliciously round bottom. When she pressed his still rock-hard cock against her, he pulled back slightly to look at her.
"Still not satisfied?"
"I think you've been holding back your best item. I want it all."
He kissed her, his passion barely in check as a hand settled over a breast, the other snaking down to her thighs. She could feel her wetness coating her inner thighs, and he trailed a few fingers in it, teasing her, before deepening the kiss even more. When he finally released her, she was gasping for air, her desperation reaching a fever pitch.
"Please."
The single word broke his control and he turned her around. Bending her over the arm of the sofa, he arranged her hips to meet his. She spread her legs, then felt his hardness tracing up and down her slit. She moaned as he rubbed briefly against her clit, finally pressing against her opening. With a small push, the head popped inside. She cried out. Already the fullness felt incredible. He pushed a little further in, then backed out. Again, a little further, then back. It took nearly ten strokes for her moans to encourage him to finally press his full length inside her, and she called out his name. He began a quick rhythm, his thighs slapping against hers as his cock drove her wild. Her hands gripped at the pillow she maneuvered under her chest, feeling the building fire screaming through her body. His hands shifted her hips slightly, and she screamed. His cock was hitting spots inside her she had never felt before, and the pleasure was just unbearable.
"Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Fuck me HARDER!"
His pressure and speed increased, and she screamed again. She couldn't take much more of this. Her breath quickened as she felt him begin to swell bigger, and slammed her hips back against him. She came hard, screaming at the top of her lungs. A moment later, she felt him release inside her, calling out to her as he thrust one last time. Their gasps for air filled the room as their bodies relaxed. He pulled out of her, and she immediately missed him. Stepping a bit unsteadily to the couch, he sank onto the cushion, pulled her to him, and arranged their bodies to face each other. She cuddled against him, listening to the pounding of his heart as it slowed, pressing occasional kisses to the base of his neck.
"You are absolutely amazing, you know that?"
She smiled. "You're even better. You have no idea how much I needed that." A touch of sadness crept into her voice at the admission. He pressed back into the couch so he could look at her.
"Has it been a while?"
She nodded, and cursed herself for the tears that began pressing against her eyes. She blinked them away. "I wasn't sure if I was any good at this anymore, or if I ever was."
He caught her chin with his fingers. "Trust me, you're phenomenal. Whoever put those doubts in your head was a complete idiot. You are the sexiest woman I've met in years, and you more than lived up to my expectations. Blew them out of the water, in fact."
"Really?"
He kissed her, softly at first, then let a growing sense of passion invade. By the time he finished, she was breathless. "I've never enjoyed sex as much as I just did with you. That's the truth. You're amazingly responsive, and vocal. I love it."
If she were a cat, she would have purred. His praise soothed the pain inside, and she settled back against the arm cradling her head. "I normally try to be more reserved, but you brought something wild out in me. I don't typically sleep with guys like this. In fact, hardly ever."
"That's a compliment to me. Thank you." He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, and kissed her temple. "So, valued customer, would you say you have enjoyed my service? Are you fully satisfied?"
She giggled, trailing her fingertips along his hips and down the hollow that led to his manhood. "You do have some very impressive goods."
"You know, I'm thinking I may start a new customer rewards program." His fingers draped lazily over her breast, and she sighed softly. Taking the encouragement, he began gently kneading the soft flesh. Tingles erupted again, and she pushed her hips against him as a fresh hunger began rising from the languid pool of post-orgasm glow.
"And what kind of program might this be?"
"One focused on delighting the customer beyond her wildest dreams." His fingers teased her nipple, letting it harden. She sighed again, enjoying the touch. His head dipped as his arm gently pulled her up so his lips could encircle the rosy pink bud. His ministrations were slow, measured to elicit a very slow build. Her back arched, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, and he growled. His right hand closed over her left hip, pulling her closer. To her amazement, she felt his cock begin to stiffen. Again? So soon? She had never known a man with such a short recovery period. She tentatively rocked her hips against him in the rhythm set up by his tongue, and his manhood responded. A thrill of delight coursed through her.
"I like the sound of that." She panted for a moment as his fingers found her clit. "Is it an exclusive program? I don't like being kept waiting." His fingers intensified their rubbing, and she moaned. He was doing a marvelous job of picking up on the subtlest cues her body gave, driving her to heights faster than anyone had ever managed, even herself.
"Very exclusive. One member only. That way I can give you my full," he nibbled on her neck, "and undivided," his fingers sped up again, in tune with her whimpers, "attention."
Her head tossed from side to side as he found a highly sensitive spot along her collarbone. She clung onto him as the orgasm unexpectedly crashed over her, leaving her screaming out his name again. Her hips bucked at him, and as soon as the last shudder faded, she felt not a lingering sense of satisfaction, but need. She grinned at him through a curtain of mussed hair, noting he looked a bit smug and accomplished.
"If I agree to pilot this program for you, how much control would I have?"
He pushed her hair gently out of her eyes, letting his fingertips trail over her lips. "The customer is always right."
"Really?" She flashed him a mischievous smile as she draped a leg over him, kissing him deeply. "So whatever I say, goes?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, in that case," she feathered her fingers down to his chest, swirling them around his nipples. At his sigh, her lips followed. She licked at each in turn for a minute, enjoying hearing his breath growing more ragged, feeling him stiffen and harden along her thigh. She grinned as she pulled away and stood.
"Lay on your back."
Jorge obeyed, his eyes caressing her curves in ways that thrilled her nearly as much as his fingers did. She felt sexy, alive, and beautiful. Powerful. And she was going to use it. She lifted her leg and straddled him, settling her hands on his chest to steady herself as she wriggled, enticingly, above him. "I think I'd like to try this on again, if you don't mind."
She lowered her hips, and rubbed against his cock. It slid deliciously against her. Grasping the base with one hand, she rose and then eased just the tip into her tight passage. She sighed, throwing her head back, letting her hair fling onto her back. His fingers closed over her breasts again, and as spirals of pleasure pooled and pulsed, she slowly let his entire length settle heavily inside her. When their hips met, she groaned.
"How's the fit?"
She opened one eye, glancing down at him. "I think I just need to break it in a little more." Her hips began shifting in a lazy figure eight over his shaft. This time, he groaned. She repeated the motion, a little faster, and his hands dropped to her hips. He guided her to a steady rhythm that would push them both to climax. She ground against him. Between the incredible girth inside her hitting all the right spots, and the indirect massage of her clit against his pelvis, Margaret felt her breath quickening, her moans sharpening into keening cries. Jorge added small thrusts into their dance, and she lost all control. She writhed on him as her senses exploded. She felt him gripping her hips hard, then pumping his cum deep inside her as she collapsed onto his chest, a sheen of sweat and ecstasy coating her skin. They lay there for a while, his cock still deep inside her. Her lips eventually found his ear.
"I'm thinking, if the initial trial is a sign of things to come, that I'm going to have to accept your offer."
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Good. I'd hate to think that you were still unsatisfied."
"I am." She raised up slightly, waiting until he looked at her. "For now."
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