Cat Haus - The Complete Story (15 page)

I made quick, short strokes with the small dildo and his breathing sped.

"Want the bigger one?"

"Yes." He gasped his answer.

I pulled out and he watched me closely while I swapped out the dildo and lubed up the bigger one. He licked his lips, and craned his neck to see as I pressed the wide head into him. His gaze never wavered, solely focused on where the strap-on pierced him.

"If you need to stroke your cock, go ahead and do it." I made the offer though I knew he'd come just from the dildo in his ass. He had the last two times we'd done this. I was so not acting like a real dominatrix. I knew that, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He shook his head and let out a little moan as I pressed deeper inside him. I pulled out and then stroked back in, slow and steady, all as he watched the cock disappear and reappear.

Finally, he raised his eyes to look at me. "Can you go faster?"
 

"Sure." I picked up the pace, throwing my weight behind the long, smooth strokes into him.

The psychology behind his need was beyond me. Maybe he was hiding homosexual desires he couldn't face. Maybe he'd been abused as a child. Maybe there was some physical dysfunction preventing him from coming without prostate stimulation.

I didn't know and I guess I shouldn't care. As long as I could give him what he needed and send him out of here happy, satisfied, I'd done my job to the best of my ability.

I saw pre-come glistening on his tip as his breath came in uncontrolled gasps. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and I thrust faster. The first shot of his release rose into the air. Each following spurt matched my down stroke into him. His eyes squeezed shut, he whimpered while he rode out the orgasm.

Slowing, I brought him back down to earth until I stopped thrusting and just made the smallest of motions. He opened his eyes and I saw the glistening in them.

Still buried deep, I held there, not wanting to take his pleasure away from him until he was ready. "Better?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem. Want me to stay inside a little longer?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it." I rocked against him, ever so gently.

I didn't need to know the hows or the whys this man came to need this. The end result was enough for me.

CHAPTER 11

Proof that the universe doesn't want us mortals to get too cocky met me in the parlor. I'd divested myself of my fake penis, said goodbye to my customer after I'd given him the pegging of a lifetime, and touched up my makeup. I went back to the parlor, hoping to grab another customer and make this slow day a little more profitable. That's when I saw a guy at the bar who made me stop in my tracks.

I spun to get out of the room before he saw me, but it was too late. His expression had gone from a frown to a wide-eyed stare as recognition hit him. "Cate?"

Could I deny it? Probably not. I knew this guy from college. Enough years hadn't passed for me to play the
you must have mistaken me for someone else
card. Especially since he'd called me by name.

Shit.

"Hey, Dean. Yeah, it's me."

He smiled wide. It made him look sleazier than usual. "Wow. What a surprise."

"Yup. Sure is." And an unpleasant surprise at that.

I'd been to a lot of the same parties Dean had been at. He was the kind of guy who delighted in hooking up with a different girl every night so he could brag about it to anyone who would listen the next day. I'd avoided his clutches back then, thank God. I'd actually been a pretty good girl in college. Not an angel, or a virgin—I had boyfriends and sex—but I didn't sleep around, by any means. Not that Dean would believe the truth of that now. And I was sure he'd tell everyone he still talked to from school about me being here.

At least I got a bit of satisfaction at seeing him having to pay for sex nowadays. Guess without the frat house's parties and booze, women weren't so easy to come by anymore.

His smile was cocky as he said, "So, how's that English degree working out for you?"

Fucking son of a bitch. Making me feel cheap because I'd chose to make six figures a year doing something I enjoyed rather than settling for crap pay in my field. Or worse, interning for free with the hope they'd offer me a job later. That seemed as much like selling myself as prostitution did.

"Eh, you know. Gotta live life before you can write about it."

"So this is book research?" He looked skeptical.

"Yup." Hey, it could be. In fact, I might start writing that book. I sure had a fucking lot to say.

But for right now, the dead last thing I wanted to do was have sex with a man who treated me as lesser, and Dean was doing that. Meanwhile, he could be no better off than me. How would I know? He could scrape up road kill for a living, for all I knew. Or hell, he could be a male prostitute now. They were legalized too in this state—one reason why we all had to get mandatory anal swabs as well as vaginal ones for our weekly STD tests. The government liked to keep things fair between the sexes.

That had been real fun the first time the doctor whipped out that frigging brush thing and stuck it in my ass. No lube. No preparation. Not even a tickle with a fingertip to pave the way. Just bam! Howdy, there it was up inside me.

But the truth was I'd rather get my ass reamed with that dry anal swab a thousand times than give this asshole the satisfaction of adding me to his list of sexual conquests, even if he would have to pay through the nose to be with me. There wasn't enough money in the world to make some things worth doing. Fucking Dean was one of those things for me.

Tiffany was still giving me the stink eye because of my getting that last guy, even though he had been my regular. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by giving her this one. Good riddance.

"So I really have to go, but I’m sure Tiffany here would love to hang out with you. Have fun." With a wave of my fingers, I scooted for the office to hide.

Along the way I remembered more of the crap Dean used to pull in college. Like how he would try to manipulate whatever poor drunk girl he'd convinced to go back to his room into having a threesome with one of his friends. He was also big on trying to convince girls to do something kinky, like girl on girl or anal, and if she agreed, he'd brag about it for the rest of the semester. Not that I believed half of what this guy said. He struck me as a liar. I hated liars.

Yup, Tiffany and Dean would make a good pair.

I strode to the office, figuring I could volunteer to handle the phone for a bit for Henry. I'd avoid Dean. I'd score some brownie points with management. Win-win.

I came around the corner as I said, "Henry, I'll watch the—" The sight of John sitting in the chair opposite Henry was enough to knock all thoughts of Dean out of my head. I glanced at John. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought you'd left."

"We had to go outside to look at the roofline and see if it was possible to dormer one side to add more space and windows." John didn't need to explain all of that to me—hell, it was none of my business—but he had, and that made me feel good.

"Oh, that's a good idea. Can your contractor do it?" How strange was this? Talking renovations with the man I wanted to strip naked and run my tongue all over.

"He says yes." John stood. "I was about to go up and take some measurements so I can order furniture. Want to come with me—or do you have to get back to work?"

"No, I can take some time. It's really slow today." Which is why he'd seen Sahara and me indulging in some extra-curricular activities. I wondered if he'd bring that up.

"Good." Pad of paper, tape measure and pen in hand, John turned to Henry. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Yes, sir." Henry could have been one of those British butlers you saw on those Masterpiece Theater shows on PBS. Nothing threw the man, not even his uber-rich boss taking a hooker up to his new apartment to discuss furnishings.

Of course, that wasn't to say I didn't hope we'd do something besides measure. Unless, of course, John wanted me to take an accurate measurement of some of his more enticing parts, in which case I'd be happy to oblige.

We made our way up the staircase. John led the way into the room, but I stopped dead at the top step. The change in just one day was shocking. Gone were the dusty boxes of pornographic Christmas ornaments and our fake tree, all cleaned out to make room for the construction.

"Coming?"

Not yet, but I'd like to be.
Squashing my sophomoric naughty thoughts, I nodded. "Yeah."

I followed him into the attic. I looked around the transformed space and drew in a deep breath. Apparently that did enticing things for my boobs. John's gaze dropped, his nostrils flaring, before he yanked his focus back to my face.

He caught my smirk and smiled. "Sorry. Your top is . . . very nice."

And low, and tight, which made my breasts spill over the top and appear at least a cup size larger. "It's okay. I wouldn't have worn it if I minded men looking at me."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Not really, no." I didn't miss the signs in John. The changes in his breathing. The way his eyes narrowed. He was turned on, and hell, I could accommodate that need while filling one of my own.

"John, is your contractor still here?"

"No. He'll be back in the morning with a crew."

I was still near the door at the top of the stairs. I turned and pushed it shut as he watched. "So we're alone? There's no one going to come up here and disturb us?"

"Most likely not. You're correct."

"Good." I walked to where he stood, took the measuring supplies out of his hands and put them on the floor at our feet. Unzipping his pants, I dropped to my knees and freed his erection.

"This would be better somewhere with a bed, or a chair. No?" He hissed in a breath as I took him in my mouth.

My mouth was full so I shook my head and made a "nuh, uh" sound in my throat.

It must have vibrated his cock, since he drew in air through his teeth. John slid his hands into my hair and held my head. Rocking his hips slowly, he drove his cock into my mouth. "You do what I saw today often? With the other girl, I mean."

His touch gentled and I slid off him. "Once in a while." I glanced up. "Did it bother you seeing that?"

John let out a short laugh that sounded more like a breath. "No. Not at all."

He pulled my head back toward him. When I took him in my mouth again, his strokes were more intense. Yeah, he'd liked what he'd seen. As he plunged into my throat I took great satisfaction in having confirmation that underneath it all, John was just like any other man.

It didn't last long, my blowjob. He stroked into my mouth so fast that soon he was coming. I felt the heat wash my throat.

The last burst was barely done, and I'd just swallowed away the bitter taste, when he pulled out of my mouth, raised me to my feet and backed me up against the wall. Lifting my knee with his left hand, he reached beneath the short skirt I had on and shoved my panties to one side.

My breath caught in my throat as he plunged two fingers inside me and fucked me with them. Leaning low, close to my ear, he said, "Watching you come, seeing her between your legs, it was the hottest thing I'd ever witnessed."

I was too into enjoying the pleasure of what he did to me to be able to form an answer, not that I thought he expected one. Between his thumb on my clit and his fingers inside me, I was ready to come.

John continued, "It was all I could do to not walk in there, bend you over that sofa and take you right there in front of everyone."

Maybe John wasn't as easily shocked as I'd assumed. Meanwhile, his confession pushed me closer to the edge. My body bore down around his fingers inside me.

He went on, "It made me crazy. I wanted to fuck your pussy. Then shove my cock in your ass and fuck you until we both came."

That was it. My muscles clenched. I came hard, moaning while envisioning John thrusting into me.

I was still trying to catch my breath when I realized John, leaning against me and pinning me to the wall, was nearly as breathless as I was. All from just describing what he wanted to do to me.

I wanted to give all he'd envisioned and more to him. "We can, you know. Do what you said you wanted to."

He laughed against me. "Not in the parlor, though."

I smiled. "Sissy, but yeah, we can do it in private if you want."

Leaning back he looked down at me, the crooked half smile I'd grown so fond of tipping up one corner of his mouth. "It's a date."

The thought had me warming from the inside even as the word
date
resonated through my brain like a warning siren. It wouldn't be a date. It would be sex. He was not my boyfriend. He had been a john, and now he was my boss.

None of that seemed to matter as I said, "I look forward to it."

CHAPTER 12

A construction crew arrived early the next morning. I suppose in an area where buildings went up and came down every day, the fact John had gotten a crew there so quickly was a testament to his wealth, or at least his power. The fact the workmen came and went through the back door, and never showed their faces anywhere near the front of the house or the parlor told me John had put a tight rein on them. They were here to work, not indulge in the girls, or even window shop in the parlor.