The Choice by Monica Belle Page B

he had touched a nerve. Had I accepted it would have meant he’d made me a high-class call-girl, something I’d fantasised over more times than I could remember.
    I knew I would never do it, but it didn’t hurt to think about it, save for the shame of imagining myself in the hands of the man who had dared to proposition me. Several times I’d considered asking Stephen if he’d like to play out a fantasy, but sex between us had always been too raw and too urgent for that sort of thing. Now I was glad I hadn’t, because I was fairly sure it would have got back to Giles, and I definitely couldn’t do it in the near future, because if he found out he would assume it was his offer which had triggered my fantasy, an unbearable thought. He might also repeat the offer.
    All of it was still in my head as I went through the motions of rowing practice, which was now so familiar that I could follow the cox’s calls without conscious effort. I was even commended on my rhythm by the coach, and by Stephen, who had finished just before us and was standing outside the Emmanuel boathouse as we came in. He looked sweaty and masculine, his clothes plastered to the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, making me smile as I approached him.
    ‘Hi, did you see that? We bumped the second boat before they’d reached The Boatman’s.’
    ‘That was good, but you’ll have to do better if you want to beat the City boats.’
    ‘We’re getting there. Are you going back to college?’
    ‘Yes, the long way round, if you like?’
    We’d frequently taken out our passion on each other in the meadows by Jackdaw Lane, and I knew exactly what he meant. My feelings were still a bit raw after my encounter with Giles, and I was going to refuse, only to think of how amused he’d be to know he’d got to me. Instead I smiled and offered my hand to Stephen.
    A lot of people were looking at us as we walked across the front of the boathouses, some of them no doubt with a pretty clear idea of what we were up to, but that I didn’t mind. As Giles himself had pointed out there’s nothing wrong with straightforward, healthy sex, certainly nothing to be ashamed of, although I did prefer people not to know we did it outside quite so often. That didn’t seem to bother Stephen at all, his hand closing on my bottom as we waited for a friendly punt to take us across the mouth of the Cherwell.
    I was still conscious of watching eyes when we’d reached the far side, and made him walk me quite a way up Jackdaw Lane before letting myself be pulled into the bushes. We chose the same place we’d used the first time, our favourite, where the low elder branch allowed me to sit down and indulge my love of cock worship in comfort. He’d got used to it, and went to stand in place before I’d caught up, making me smile as he spoke. ‘I’ll have the usual please, Miss Miller.’
    ‘Certainly, Mr Mitchell.’
    He turned me on, just from the set of his powerful body and hot scent of his skin, but even as I sat down and began to nuzzle my face against the bulge in his rowing shorts I was having to make myself do it. Only as he began to stiffen did my rising desire push away my ill feelings, as I’d hoped it would. Soon I was nibbling and kissing at the long hard shape of his erection through his shorts, deliberately teasing myself until I was desperate to get him bare and into my mouth.
    I was about to do it, but he broke first, muttering something unintelligible and snatching the front of his shorts aside to expose himself. With his cock and balls free to the weak autumn sunlight I took a moment simply to admire him before running the tip of my tongue all the way up, once, twice and a third time before popping him in my mouth. He gave a groan of satisfaction as I began to suck. His hands settled on my head, holding me firmly in place on his erection to stop me teasing, and I got down to work.
    He was eager, pushing into my mouth and occasionally releasing his grip on