Those Wicked Pleasures (8 page)

There was a dark richness and yet something slightly sinister about the room. It was exciting, the most masculine room she had ever been in. She felt enslaved by it. As if she had stepped into another world, Jamal’s world. And, though nervous, she was seduced by it, by him.

They stood at the foot of the bed. He tilted her chin up, looked into her eyes and smiled. His smile warmed her, excited her imagination. She waited for his first move. To feel his hands upon her. He made none. Instead he suggested, ‘You remove my jacket first.’ Again the inviting warmth of his smile. She understood at once and was amused.

She obeyed and walked around behind him to remove the jacket. She dropped it almost without thinking over the back of a chair. His body-scent drew her to him. She kissed his neck, rested her head against his back and caressed his shoulders under the white cotton dress-shirt he was wearing. Then she walked around to face him again. She waited for him to make his move on her. He didn’t. Instead he raised his chin. She understood and pulled on the black silk bow tie. It loosened, and she slid it from around his neck and dropped it on the bed.

‘The cuff links next,’ he demanded, never taking his gaze from hers. She removed them, and then the sapphire studs holding his shirt together. She opened his shirt and spread her hands across his chest of dark curly hair. The feel of his skin was like an electric charge, and unbearably sexy. She wanted his hands on her breasts, his fingers to bite into her flesh. Nothing. She thought her knees would buckle with excitement when he undid the black alligator belt, slid it slowly from his trouser loops and snapped it sharply from his waist. It made her flinch. He slipped it around her neck and let it dangle there. And he waited.

He said not a word. She had to guess what was expected of her next. She had to invent. Once again she moved behind him and raised his shirt. She ran her hands over his strong back. He reached around, grabbed her hand and pulled her around in front of him again. He placed her hands on his breast and pressed them into his flesh. She was quick to pick up his every signal. Her
mouth descended upon his nipple and licked it and sucked it. The taste of him was exhilarating. She meant to nibble on his tiny nipples, but passion made her bite hard on them and he squirmed under her lips. She revelled in the pleasure that flashed in his eyes, and felt for the first time the gratification of cajoling delight from another body.

Now he stood naked in front of her and she actually trembled with desire for him. Until now the two men in her life had been the sexual givers. They had been the ones to take the initiative.

And now, still dressed in her silk taffeta, she was on her knees in a frenzy of lust, taking instruction from Jamal on the giving of fellatio. He was relentless, forceful in his demands. Loveless. Though she did not feel frightened by
him
, she did by his sexual offensive. Yet not enough to retreat. After a short time she lost herself in the act and her own passion took over. She transformed it from what had been, at the beginning, an amateurish and clumsy, gagging performance into pure pleasure for them both. He took the two ends of his leather belt hanging around her neck and pulled her up from her knees and on to the bed.

She was overwhelmed by his ability to give himself up to her. To lie passively allowing himself to be made love to. It had never occurred to her that men might like to play that role as well as women. She yearned to be made love to by him. Could she be as sexually bold as Jamal? Legs flung wide, lasciviously offering her cunt, her anus, as he offered her his cock, his balls, his anus, demanding them to be kissed and licked and caressed. She wanted desperately to change places with him. He had her hungry for him.

He was ruthless in holding back. It put her on edge. It made her want to please him more. He was cruel to insinuate upon her sex without romance, when that was
what he had seduced her with. She was so young, inexperienced. She had expected them to come together. Where was the adoration, the love? She was disconcerted that it wasn’t there for her, but she was unable to pull herself away from him. She sensed love
was
there, somewhere. It was so new, this being the giver, obeying his demands and reaping untold pleasures from them. It didn’t bear thinking about, only doing.

He could hold back his orgasm no longer. He demanded, ‘Lara, swallow. Every drop.’ And then came, a copious discharge that frightened and excited her. Cock and cum, for a few seconds, took over her whole life. His huge throbbing penis filled her mouth, was rammed tight down her throat. She pursed her lips tight to its very base, and could feel the curl of his black pubic hairs brushing her lips and the salty taste of his sperm as she sucked hard on his cock. She swallowed.

She felt dizzy with wild abandon, emotionally drained from her experience. Slowly he withdrew and she fell against him, exhausted. Only then did he take her in his arms and hold her and tell her how sublime she had been. How beautiful and sexy she was. Her heart swelled with joy for having pleased him and at the realisation: she too had come, she too had enjoyed fellatio.

They lay like that for some time before he unlocked the door and wheeled in a table covered in a crisp white damask cloth. On it were displayed a silver champagne cooler, glasses and a bowl of Beluga caviar in a crystal dish sunk in a ring of crushed ice. He poured two glasses of champagne and then taking her by the hand led her to the bathroom where he sat her on the edge of the marble bath. He stepped into the shower.

She watched the rivulets of water run down his body, feeling nothing but lust for him. She watched his every movement while he stretched and bent over and washed
and the stream of scented suds of balsam and pine soap ran down his body. She wanted him and somehow didn’t know what to do about it. That made her nervous.

For the first time since she was struck with love for Jamal she felt awkward. Like some paid whore. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why. She had done nothing but service him, he had ignored her own needs. She stood up and looked at herself in the misted wall of mirror. Still dressed in her silk taffeta, looking every inch the innocent young lady. She found it dishonest, quite shocking. More so, even, when she saw him standing dripping wet behind her watching her. She turned around to face him.

‘I need you to tell me you love me,’ she said.

‘I would rather show you,’ he answered.

He picked up the two glasses and handed hers to her. He drained his and smiled. She watched him slip into a silk dressing gown and tie the black silk sash tight around his waist. Lara drank some of her wine. Together, his arm around her shoulders, they walked back into the bedroom.

He filled a small jade bowl with the black Beluga and handed it to her with a lapis lazuli spoon. He smiled. He liked to see greed in Lara only fractionally less than he liked insinuating it upon her. Greed was such a forbidden fruit in the Stanton household. He refilled her glass, prepared a bowl of the Russian delicacy for himself, and together they drank and ate, and, for the first time since they had entered his room, talked.

After several spoonfuls of the caviar, she laughed. ‘Caviar and lychee nuts – the two sexiest tastes in the world. And you were the first person to offer them to me. Pretty decadent to have acquired a taste for them at the age of ten. And now …’ She hesitated, and a blush coloured her face. He was amused.

‘Oh, don’t stop now.’

But she did. Drained her glass and held it out for more. He filled it. ‘And now? The taste of my cum. Isn’t that what you were going to say? Don’t tell me you’re going to be a sexual hypocrite, Lara. There is no fun in that. You did have fun, didn’t you? You did like the taste of me?’

He took the bowl from her hands. ‘Go on, confess. You adored sucking cock, swallowing cum.’

‘Yours was the first time.’

‘I didn’t ask you that. I asked how much you liked it.’

There was a look in his eye that discomfited her. She answered him, ‘I liked it.’

‘Liar,’ he said. ‘You loved it.’

She jumped up. He sprang from the sofa with her. He grabbed her hard by the hair and kissed her passionately. That kiss scorched her. When he released her it was only for a moment, to tell her, ‘Now I’m going to show you just how much I love you.’ He kissed her wildly, with a roughness and urgency he had not shown before. He released her and threw off his robe. He was hard; his penis looked to her even more handsome, the circumcised knob crimson with desire.

‘I don’t want to be a sexual hypocrite. You’re right, damn you, Jamal. I love your cock. Having it in my mouth was fantastic. Your cum trickling down my throat was very sexy. I’m new to all this. Remember that, give me a break. Promise me you love me so we can have great sex and try it all. I want to be like Myling and Luan. Sexually free. So don’t attack me, don’t call me a hypocrite.’

He liked the anger he saw in her eyes. He liked her talking about sex and the adventurous sexual spirit she showed. It was part of his sexual power over her. He would delight in reducing her to her basic sexual self.
Delight? He was obsessed with the idea of doing that because he sensed how much she would enjoy it. He took her in his arms and kissed her again, and then again on the neck. ‘You have to believe that whatever we do sexually, you will always be safe with me. Then an erotic world will open up for you that will set you free. I will never let you come to any harm. You can believe that, can’t you?’ If there were doubts, he sealed them with another kiss.

Ever since Jamal had seen Lara and Sam together and learned about their sexual encounter, he had known she would be his. Nothing spurred him on more than the vision of her offering herself to Sam and being turned down. He wanted her to do more than just offer herself to him: he wanted her hungry for him, willing to suit to all things sexual for him. And it was for that reason he had plotted his seduction of Lara in the manner he had done.

Now she stood in front of him in high-heeled sandals, a criss-crossing of slim, navy blue satin straps, naked except for sheer, navy-blue silk stockings and a lacy belt of long garters stretching down over sensuous thighs of cream white flesh to pinch the tops of her stockings. Her bushy mound of silky pubic hair was absolutely tantalising, framed by the raunchiness of the shapely, silk-encased legs, strips of taut lace and elastic. Exciting, yes, but what surprised was the body, a sensual contrast to the clean, elegant face and demeanour of this seventeen-year-old beauty. The sensuous, bee-stung lips might have given a hint, but he had hardly expected such erotic bodily beauty. The breasts tantalisingly large and firm, shaped as if bursting with milk; large aureole of a dark plummy brown against the cream white skin. The fleshy, erect nipples promised depravity and stirred within him a violence of passion. He held back, taking in the slimness
of the waist, the narrowness of the hips. He walked slowly around her and was enchanted by her bottom, high and round and beckoning. He could not hold back. He caressed the cheeks, separated them and ran a finger, tinglingly provocative, between them, bent to lick a spot on one of them and kissed it. A sensuous love-bite.

Lara thought she would swoon. She felt strange standing there while he examined her with eyes she thought to be critical. She took a nervous step away from him, thinking to cover herself. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

‘No one has ever looked at me this way, Jamal.’

‘What about Sam?’

‘We did it in the dark.’

He was suddenly jealous, and said, ‘Sam is more stupid than I thought. You have one of the most erotic bodies I have ever seen. You were made for sex, and me, and we are going to have a wonderful time.’

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. The dark allure of her nipples and their nimbus drew his hands and mouth to her breasts. He could not repress his urge to devour them. Hungrily he fondled them, sucked and bit hard into them, desisting only to tell her, ‘You are magnificent. More, much more, than I imagined.’ He alternated between kissing her breasts and slapping them. And, disturbingly, her own violence surfaced. She bit into his shoulder and scratched long welts down his back, and then came in several small orgasms.

He saw in her eyes the little shudders of ecstasy. Urgently he piled pillows beneath her so as to raise her to an angle that he knew would give him a deeper penetration. Then, unceremoniously, he threw her legs wide apart, and took her with a violence she had never known before. It was as if he wanted half to kill her with
his lust. He was rough with his fucking and his kisses – they tore at her flesh – and it was new and thrilling because it tapped into her own sexual violence, and she was able after several minutes to curtail her begging him to stop, not merely to suit him, but to join him. Her reaction was instinctive. She used her cunt and fucked him with it, squeezing every muscle to give that succulent tight sensation. Vice-like she clung to his cock and eased off and on again, Lara’s own form of fucking him. They came together and then, afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, he rhapsodised for her upon the various ways they would make love.

Jamal told her about his
pied à terre
. He tantalised her with stories of the erotic world he had created there. Of the men who were there to service his women friends, of the women who made love to women. The sexual toys he had to show, the scented oils and creams he wanted to tease her body with. He was savage in his seduction of Lara. His explicit descriptions of how he wanted to have her with two other men at the same time shocked … but excited. The forbidden. A taste? Maybe just once. He made a phone call to the house on Fifty-Third Street. There was no turning back. It never even occurred to her. The sexual animal in Lara Stanton was on the prowl, not to be leashed again till satisfied.

Before they dressed he prepared several lines of cocaine. He rolled up a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her. She began to laugh.

‘I don’t do drugs.’

‘You will tonight. For me. Because I want you to have the greatest pleasure later in the
pied à terre
.’