Holding My Breath. AM Hartnett

      ‘You’re lucky I’m not easily bored by empty threats. Otherwise I’d put you on your knees and fuck your mouth again.’

      The excitement that ran through her wasn’t sparked by the authority of what he said, but by the playfulness behind it. She already liked the words; now she was growing fond of the tune.

      He sauntered out of view, and the bed sagged as he knelt behind her. Those adept fingers spread open the mouth of her sex.

      ‘What a lovely mess I’ve made,’ he said, strumming his finger through the dripping folds. ‘Look over there, next to the bed. You missed it when you first came in, you were so wound up in showing off. What do you think it is? Oh, Molly, the possibilities …’

      True, she had missed the little black bag when she first came into the room. It was the type you got at posh boutiques that folded skimpy lingerie in tissue paper.

      But what was inside didn’t come from Victoria’s Secret. He’d spelled it out for her, and the erratic wave in her head broadcast those filthy possibilities.

      ‘Do you do this for all of your –’ clients? employers? ‘– friends?’

      ‘My friends have to bring their own playthings. For you, well, I suppose I could have brought flowers, but if I want to woo a woman who can suck a cock like you can, I have to do better than roses.’

      Molly curled her fingers into her palm and smiled into the bedding. It was such a crass thing to say, especially since he was avidly fingering her wet gash, but beneath it all was such sweet sentiment.

      ‘I like you, too,’ she murmured, and whimpered as the tip of his tongue unravelled her.

      Lick after lick fattened her clit while he rubbed her inside, creating a perfect storm. She could have entertained that beautiful tongue between her legs until she just melted into the mattress, but this was only a warm-up before he retreated. He appeared a moment later next to his bag of tricks.

      ‘You can say no to anything,’ he told her as he reached into the bag.

      ‘I trust you,’ she whispered, and marvelled that she truly meant it.

      Here was a man who took money in exchange for things she only fantasised about, and here he was, in his words, wooing her. Because he liked her.

      ‘Like’ was such a frank emotion, but it was the one that reached the deepest. In her whole life, the word ‘love’ had been bandied about when convenient – ex-boyfriends and an ex-husband had used them with varying degrees of honesty, but ‘like’ held so much more.

      ‘Like’ could be tender and perverted all at once, which summed up Quinn most beautifully.

      The first item he produced was a common thing, a bottle of lubricant he could have picked up at the grocery store. As wet as she was, he wouldn’t have needed it if he was merely after the slippery shelter of her cunt. It was the second thing he revealed to her that gave point to the first: a fat little anal plug made of green glass.

      ‘Still trust me?’ he asked, rolling the toy between his fingers so that it caught the light.

      ‘What else do you have?’ she whispered, and squeezed her thighs together in anticipation as he set the plug on the table beside the lube.

      The next was a basic vibrator, an economical little phallus, unlike the wand she kept tucked in her nightstand. For hers, she had a multitude of sleeves and attachments, but in those capable hands she imagined his ten-dollar vibe would make her beg for more.

      ‘Ass up,’ he repeated.

      She hadn’t realised that she had drooped, but at his word she thrust her ass up to him.

      ‘Are you saving those three smacks?’

      His only response was to jerkily unleash his cock, an impressive column that strained away from heavy balls towards his hairy belly. A quick hand waved across the tip like that of a magician trying to glamour his audience, and he showed her his wet palm before working the tip in a way only a man could handle his own cock.

      ‘Ass. Up.’

      As she extended her invitation, he picked up the lube and tossed it onto the bed, then brandished the plug in his free hand.

      ‘A little too eager, aren’t we?’ he asked, reviving the heat of her ass with a look she felt. ‘When I go home I’m getting on my fucking knees and praying for good health to the president of Barry REIT for putting you in this position in the first place.’

      ‘I’m pretty sure they’d frown on this sort of thing. They’ve contributed quite a bit to the Conservative cause, and we all know how those people feel about anal sex.’

      ‘Until they have a spectacular ass like yours offered up.’ He ran his hands over the swell of her buttocks. ‘Do you want your smacks before or after you take what I’ve got for you?’

      ‘Give me the plug first,’ she begged, peering to one side to find him. It was no use. He was positioned behind her, out of sight.

      ‘This isn’t a first for you, then?’

      ‘God, no, but it has been a long time.’

      She sucked in a deep breath, unsure whether she should be entirely truthful with him. She’d probably never shut him up if she said it. Still, she was compelled by his fingers parting her cheeks and the cool dollop of lube on her asshole.

      ‘And you’re very big,’ she finished.

      ‘I am big, aren’t I?’ he said, and gave her the tapered tip of the plug. ‘How long has it been?’

      ‘Two years,’ she confessed, and gripped the bedding as he gave her a little more.

      ‘Do you think you can take me?’

      Molly laughed, then gave him the condensed version of her little secret. After some coaxing without success, she’d bought what was called a ‘starter kit’ on the Internet and convinced Aaron to use the smallest size on her. As for actual anal sex, they had never attempted it, so technically it was closer to eight years since she’d last participated in the real thing.

      ‘What are you doing?’ He stopped and withdrew the plug. ‘Too much?’

      Much like the alleged giggling while being spanked, she had developed a habit of humming while being penetrated. It had started when she’d learned how to insert the plug herself, once Aaron got squeamish and gave it up.

      ‘It’s just a habit. I can’t help it and I don’t know when I’m doing it.’ She whipped her head around. ‘Are you going to keep going or not?’

      ‘Was that from Mary Poppins?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘When they’re all dancing on the rooftops, right? Do you take requests?’

      ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’

      She thrust her ass up, and squealed with the sudden hard crack on her ass.

      ‘You should be nicer to me, Molly. I’m about to fuck you through that wall over there.’

      Once more he probed her with the end of the plug, and once more she resumed her humming, cheerfully at first, but as the base widened and stretched, and she was seized by the usual worry that she wouldn’t be able to take it, she began to sing frantically under her breath.

      The last of the plug went in, and the discomfort turned into the awareness of being stuffed. She let out a puff of air and squashed her cheek into the pillow.

      Quinn returned to the bedside table. ‘Have you ever done a threesome?’

      ‘Didn’t you ask me that the last time?’

      ‘The last time I asked if you wanted one. Now I’m asking if you’ve ever had one.’

      ‘Twice,’ she admitted,