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“Let’s find out what you’ve learned,” he broke the silence. The words were so unexpected that I didn’t respond at first. I only stared at him. He motioned me closer until we were nearly touching.

Abruptly he opened his slacks, pushing them down to expose the thick, heavily veined length of his shaft. Without another word, he cupped the back of my head and pushed it down.

I was shocked but I caught on quick. I took him in my mouth. I rubbed my lips around his thick tip. It felt like velvet. I eased him slowly deeper. He was larger and harder than I was expecting. No wonder it had hurt so much our first time.

I cupped him in both hands, caressing him from root to tip. I liked the feel of him, warm and eager and overwhelming.

He groaned. The sound made me want to purr.

I took him deeper, inching my lips up his silky length, laving him with my tongue as I worked him deeper. It was heady, the taste of him, the feel of him rearing against the roof of my mouth. I liked it. I was already primed from what he’d done to me in the restaurant, but I knew innately that performing this act would have turned me on on its own.

Well wasn’t that some ironic icing on my precariously arranged cake?

I didn’t realize I’d paused midway down his length until I felt him move under me. His hips churned. He held my head still, his erection thrusting up at me impatiently.

With a hungry moan, I took him as deep down my throat as he would go. I started moving on him, my head bobbing slowly up and down, my hands gripping, sliding, stroking, getting mixed up in my saliva until it was a smooth glide. My hands worked his base while my mouth sucked and stroked at him from mid-shaft to tip. I worked into a well-balanced rhythm, sucking him as deep as I could and jacking at him firmly with my hand. I was so involved that a few times my lips met my own hands and I was caught off guard at the contact.

I paused when he gripped my hair suddenly, rolling my eyes to glance up into his face.

Holy shit. I actually liked the half-crazed look in his eyes, the way the skin around his cheekbones was taut with strain, his telling grip.

“Fuck,” he muttered. And that wasn’t all. He was making these delicious noises, raw, little keens escaping from the back of his throat. The noises were harsh and male and I loved them. “Damn it. Suck it harder.”

I tried my best with genuine interest and enthusiasm. So far his fingers and my mouth were far more enjoyable than the act of sex itself. Who knew?

His climax was a lot more interesting, quick, and messy than I was prepared for. I knew the mechanics but those did not take into account how my own musings and reactions would distract me from the job at hand. It was an easy enough mouthful to swallow, but somehow half of it ended up on me, running down my chin, my neck, my collarbone, and deep into my cleavage.

I lifted my head when his hand in my hair went slack.

His eyes were running over me, over the spots where I’d spilled his cum on myself. “Did any of it manage to make it into your mouth?” he asked, breathing hard. I would have answered, but as he spoke he was fingering the shoulders of my top, pushing them aside and down my arms. It was a revealing dress. Just that easy, I was topless. He stared at me some more, his breath slowing eventually but not by much. He fondled me.

I looked down at his hand on me. The sight made me squirm in my seat. My nipples were hard, his cum was all over my skin, and his hand looked and felt so good on me that I couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Fuck,” he said roughly. “Fuck.”

Abruptly he took his hand away, pulling my straps back onto my shoulders, folding me back into my dress.

“Was that okay?” It took a few minutes and lot of my courage to work up to asking that question.

He put himself away and didn’t look at me once. He didn’t speak for an unbearable length of time. He seemed to be gathering himself for something, and I doubted that would bode well for me.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked in a dead voice, his eyes trained out the window at the swiftly passing buildings. He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I feel I was misled about your skill level. All that training, I thought you’d be better with your mouth.”

It felt like I’d been slapped. My eyes stung and I had to blink rapidly and look away to hide it. It was the unexpectedness of the assault that made it hurt so bad, I told myself. I was completely unprepared for such brutal directness.

“Apparently,” he continued ruthlessly, “practice means nothing if you don’t have the right tools. We’ll have to work on that.”

I felt my jaw set stubbornly. “If you insist. Would you like to do it now or do you need more time to recover?”

He was staring at me now. It wasn’t a good stare. There wasn’t even a hint of friendliness in the curve of his mouth or the glint of his eyes. “Why’d you do it?”

I stared back.

“Why would you sell yourself to someone who doesn’t even like you?” he added.

“Not all of us get to be born rich,” I told him. Simple and bitter like one of his drinks.

“You sold your virginity. Your hymen had a price tag. This is certainly a first for me.”