Page 42 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

"Fuck me, Ricardo."

He reached for the nightstand, fumbled the condom once, swore softly, got it, rolled it on. Then he pressed against me and slipped in, filling me slowly, and sighed, and started to move.

It didn't take long. I was already wound taut, from the dance floor and from his mouth and the candle and the fact of being here at all. A few deep thrusts and I came, hard, clenching around him, a primal cry tearing out of me I'd have been mortified by anywhere else.

He kept moving, drew it out until my tremors slowed and I could breathe, then stilled inside me, breathing hard.

I looked up at him, chest heaving.

"Do you want me to suck you?" I heard myself ask. "Do you want to come in my mouth?"

He froze.

"I've never tasted it. I want to."

His eyes widened. "Yes. God, yes."

I pushed at his shoulders. "Lie down."

He pulled out, the sudden emptiness making me clench around nothing, and rolled onto his back.

I shifted down the bed, heart hammering in my throat. I peeled the condom off, slick and warm, dropped it to the floor, and took him in my mouth.

The first taste hit hard, salt and musk and bitter latex under it. I was clumsy. My tongue unsure, lips too tight, then too loose, the rhythm uneven. I gagged once trying to take him deeper, eyes watering, and I didn't pull back. I pushed forward instead. I wanted to do it right. I wanted him to know I was a woman who could. My hand wrapped the base of him and worked what my mouth couldn't reach.

"Yes," he groaned. "Almost."

I sucked harder, and his hips lifted once, and his thighs went tight under my palms, and then he came.

The first of it shocked me, more than I'd been ready for, hitting the back of my throat. Instinct told me to pull away. I didn't. I swallowed and kept going until he shuddered and started to soften between my lips.

When he was done I didn't pull off right away.

The thought passed through me, intense and hot—I am taking care of him. I am servicing him.

I licked him slowly, carefully, cleaning him, the act intimate in a way I hadn't been prepared for. The pull in my chest deepened.

He exhaled, half-laugh, half-groan. "It's okay, Lacey. That was—" He didn't finish.

He threaded his fingers through my hair and drew me up to his chest.

I wanted to keep going. The wanting confused me. Some part of me had been waiting my whole life to be allowed this, and I'd only just found out the part existed.

We kissed, slow and deep. I tasted both of us on his tongue. I had crossed a line and not arrived anywhere I recognized.

We got up in near silence. I put my bra and panties back on, paused, and then looked at my dress pooled on the floor.

"I don't have to wear a dress, do I?"

Ricardo shook his head, amused. "No. You don't have to wear anything here you don't want to."

I draped my dress over my arm and stepped into the hallway in just my underwear, black lace, heels clicking on the polished floor.

Lacey Bonds. Walking through a bar in her underwear.

A few eyes turned as I came into the lounge. Curious. Appreciative. Not fixed on me. Nobody stared, nobody gasped. The cool air raised goosebumps along my arms.

I could still taste him. And in my head he was telling me to swallow it, except I knew he hadn't said that. I'd wanted him to say it. Why did the idea of being told what to do arouse me so much, walking through the lounge in my underwear, after I'd already done more?