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“Your name,” I moaned.
“That’s right, good girl.” He kissed me again. “Now come for me.”
He rubbed my clit hard, and I hardly recognized my voice when I cried his name and exploded into a thousand lights of bliss. My orgasm made my body shake, and my eyes roll back, and I would have collapsed on the floor if Mr. Steele’s arm hadn’t banded around my waist to support my weight. I leaned against him, chanting his name repeatedly as the pleasure rolled through me.
He squeezed my hip with his big hand, and as I came down from the high of my orgasm, I became aware of his deep voice in my ear.
“Such a good girl, baby. You did so well for me. You’re so fucking pretty when you come, good girl.”
I blossomed under his praise, the pleasure of my orgasm dimming a little in comparison. I was Mr. Steele’s good girl, and I had pleased him. I floated on a wave of dopamine from the combination of his praise and my orgasm, resting my head on his chest and keeping my eyes closed as I listened to his praise.
I had no idea how much time had passed before I realized two things - I’d just had the best orgasm of my life with a practical stranger, and I was failing miserably at my job. I was supposed to be giving Mr. Steele pleasure, supposed to be giving him the hand job or blow job of his life.
Fear that he’d send me away tonight and never book me again shot through me. I straightened, giving him an anxious look as I cupped his dick through his jeans and kneaded him roughly.
He winced, and I panicked even more. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rough. My hand jobs probably need some work, but here,” I fumbled at his belt, “let me give you a blow job. I’m really good at those, I swear.”
His hand covered mine and pulled it away. “Charlotte, stop.”
“I’m great at them,” I babbled as I shook free of his grip and reached for his belt again. “Let me show you.”
“Charlotte, enough.”
I crumpled at the scolding, my pleasure high disappearing under the weight of disappointing yet another person.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I’m not angry with you, but it’s -”
His phone alarm went off, and he glanced at it on his desk before kissing my knuckles again. “Get dressed, please.”
He walked toward his desk and feeling discouraged despite his reassurance, I yanked my skirt down and pulled my shirt over my head. He returned and said, “Our play session is over, Charlotte.”
“I could stay a little longer. Long enough to,” I glanced at his crotch, “make you feel good.”
He didn’t reply, and my cheeks flamed red. Christ, I was stupid. He would have to pay more if I stayed longer, and with the amount the sisters charged, I couldn’t blame him for keeping the sessions to two hours only. Probably for the best, anyway. My blow job skills were good, but were they pay for an extra half hour, good? Probably not.
You could do it for free.
Despite knowing what a bad fucking idea that was, I said, “I could stay another half hour for free.”
His disappointed look made me wilt. “It’s against the rules, and you know that, Charlotte. If the sisters found out, I’d be fired as a client, and you’d lose your contract with them.”
“I’m sorry,” I said as shame rolled over me.
There was an awkward silence between us before Mr. Steele glanced at his phone. “It’s getting late.”
Fuck me, why was I still standing here? I gave him another embarrassed look before walking rapidly toward his office door. “I’m sorry. Um, goodbye, Mr. Steele.”
“Goodbye, Charlotte.”
Like before, I didn’t bother to put on my bra and underwear. I just scooped up my purse and booked it for the door. Marvin started without complaint for once, and I drove down the driveway toward the road.
I gave his house one final look. I had fucked up again, and the finality in Mr. Steele’s voice made me certain I’d never see him again.
CHAPTER 9
Riley
