was my stern text, telling her not to be late.
She tore her gaze away, licking a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
“So how did, er, work go?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
I shrugged and set my knife and fork on my now-empty plate. “Just wondered.”
“Do you wish you’d been there, to see me again?”
“I saw you last night.”
“And it turned you on.”
I nibbled my bottom lip. She knew damn well it had turned me on. Well, the second part, when she’d masturbated, not the first bit, with Carlos. “Did you use Carlos tonight?”
“No.” She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow pressed onto the table. “Why?”
“I told you, I just wondered.”
“Did it make you jealous to see me with another man?”
“Well, you were hardly with him.” I stood, collected the plates then walked to the kitchen. Dumped the crockery on the island.
She followed me. “I was hardly with him? What the hell do you think that was then, Victor?” Her tone was incredulous.
“You were using him, like a puppet in a show.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“Yes, it’s not like you had sex with him or anything.”
“Fucking hell.” She shook her head, her hair drifting over her shoulders, covering her tits.
I scowled and drained the pasta.
“I think Carlos would dispute that statement,” she said. “Do you fancy bringing it up with him? I could give him a call right now.”
“I can’t see what that would achieve.” The creamy chicken was bubbling and I added the pasta, gave it a stir. Took it off the heat.
“You don’t know what it would achieve? How about it would open your bloody eyes.”
“I have my eyes open.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She took the bowl of steaming food I passed her. Made no move to go to the table.
“Come on, let’s eat while it’s hot.” I walked past her and hoped she’d drop the subject of Carlos. The image of him with a dildo up his arse was making my cock stir. Not that I’d found it arousing to witness, it had just been…shocking.
Zara followed, sat, put her bowl down, reached for her fork and pointed it at me. “If you asked Carlos he would say that he’d had sex with me last night. I turned him on, penetrated him, made him come. Spectacularly, I thought. If that isn’t having sex with someone, what is?”
“Fucking.” I speared a piece of penne. “Fucking is having sex. Not whipping someone on the arse and playing with toys.”
She blew out a long, low breath, shook her head. “It’s a good job you met me when you did.”
I frowned. “That’s up for debate.”
Stabbing at a chunk of chicken, she scowled. “Victor, that’s not nice, you’ll hurt my feelings.” Her gaze dropped and she worried at her bottom lip. Her shoulders slumped slightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t?” She looked up.
I instantly felt bad. “No. I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Even though I hurt yours?”
“You don’t.”
“Good.” She smiled, a wide, genuine smile that flashed her teeth. “Because I only want to make you feel nice. That’s what all this is about, pleasure.”
I stared at her lips stretching, and an image of them wrapping around my cock filled my mind. That had been really fucking pleasurable all right. I shifted on the seat, my dick thickening, and carried on eating.
She sighed. “No, tonight it was just me and Fifi on stage. We did a girl-on-girl show. The men seem to like that, especially when we ride one another’s faces.”
I struggled to swallow the chunk of pasta. Girl-on-girl. Fuck, now that had me hard enough to hammer bloody nails.
Chapter Eleven
“Would it have turned you on to see me with Fifi?” Zara asked, twirling a strand of her silky black hair around her left index finger.
Hell. I couldn’t deny that. My cheeks had heated just thinking of Zara sitting on pixie-like Fifi’s face and writhing to orgasm. I could imagine her back arched, her head
She tore her gaze away, licking a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
“So how did, er, work go?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
I shrugged and set my knife and fork on my now-empty plate. “Just wondered.”
“Do you wish you’d been there, to see me again?”
“I saw you last night.”
“And it turned you on.”
I nibbled my bottom lip. She knew damn well it had turned me on. Well, the second part, when she’d masturbated, not the first bit, with Carlos. “Did you use Carlos tonight?”
“No.” She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow pressed onto the table. “Why?”
“I told you, I just wondered.”
“Did it make you jealous to see me with another man?”
“Well, you were hardly with him.” I stood, collected the plates then walked to the kitchen. Dumped the crockery on the island.
She followed me. “I was hardly with him? What the hell do you think that was then, Victor?” Her tone was incredulous.
“You were using him, like a puppet in a show.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“Yes, it’s not like you had sex with him or anything.”
“Fucking hell.” She shook her head, her hair drifting over her shoulders, covering her tits.
I scowled and drained the pasta.
“I think Carlos would dispute that statement,” she said. “Do you fancy bringing it up with him? I could give him a call right now.”
“I can’t see what that would achieve.” The creamy chicken was bubbling and I added the pasta, gave it a stir. Took it off the heat.
“You don’t know what it would achieve? How about it would open your bloody eyes.”
“I have my eyes open.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She took the bowl of steaming food I passed her. Made no move to go to the table.
“Come on, let’s eat while it’s hot.” I walked past her and hoped she’d drop the subject of Carlos. The image of him with a dildo up his arse was making my cock stir. Not that I’d found it arousing to witness, it had just been…shocking.
Zara followed, sat, put her bowl down, reached for her fork and pointed it at me. “If you asked Carlos he would say that he’d had sex with me last night. I turned him on, penetrated him, made him come. Spectacularly, I thought. If that isn’t having sex with someone, what is?”
“Fucking.” I speared a piece of penne. “Fucking is having sex. Not whipping someone on the arse and playing with toys.”
She blew out a long, low breath, shook her head. “It’s a good job you met me when you did.”
I frowned. “That’s up for debate.”
Stabbing at a chunk of chicken, she scowled. “Victor, that’s not nice, you’ll hurt my feelings.” Her gaze dropped and she worried at her bottom lip. Her shoulders slumped slightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t?” She looked up.
I instantly felt bad. “No. I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Even though I hurt yours?”
“You don’t.”
“Good.” She smiled, a wide, genuine smile that flashed her teeth. “Because I only want to make you feel nice. That’s what all this is about, pleasure.”
I stared at her lips stretching, and an image of them wrapping around my cock filled my mind. That had been really fucking pleasurable all right. I shifted on the seat, my dick thickening, and carried on eating.
She sighed. “No, tonight it was just me and Fifi on stage. We did a girl-on-girl show. The men seem to like that, especially when we ride one another’s faces.”
I struggled to swallow the chunk of pasta. Girl-on-girl. Fuck, now that had me hard enough to hammer bloody nails.
Chapter Eleven
“Would it have turned you on to see me with Fifi?” Zara asked, twirling a strand of her silky black hair around her left index finger.
Hell. I couldn’t deny that. My cheeks had heated just thinking of Zara sitting on pixie-like Fifi’s face and writhing to orgasm. I could imagine her back arched, her head
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