Yes, Miss
Chapter 53
James
I wait on my front steps, taking in the night air, the sky dusted with sparkling diamonds on one side, ribbons of navy blending with pinks and oranges of sunset in the distance on the other. I lean against my front door frame, sipping a whisky, listening to Isabelle singing ‘Cell Block Tango’ fromChicago, which she informs me is her favourite musical.
The bathroom window above me is open, letting me hear her beautiful, melodic tones as they flutter down to me.
“They had it comin’, They had it comin’… They only had themselves to blame…” she belts out, followed by a curse and clatter of something dropping into the sink.
I laugh and feel an immeasurable amount of happiness fill my chest. My house is anything but quiet now, but it's filled with the best noise. I have someone to sing and play piano with now. The love of my life is next to me whenI
Alexandra Ravensbrook
close my eyes, and when I wake up every morning, laughter now fills what used to be a bare shell of a house. As well as Isabelle’s cushions, books, photos, and multiple shoes scattered around.
“I’m coming, I’ll be two minutes!” she shouts down the stairs at me, knowing full well she’ll be at least another ten. I've not even requested the Uber yet.
I turn as she walks down the stairs, and I can't breathe. My heart hammers against my chest, and my cock thickens in my trousers.
“Holy shit!” is all I can say. She is wearing a stunning black satin brocade corset that emphasises her hourglass curves, her full breasts pillowing out at the top, and a matching pencil skirt, her red patent heels extending her long stockinged legs.
She smiles, a slight blush crossing her cheekbones as she brushes a wavy tendril of hair out of her eyes. Smoky eyeshadow and long lashes frame her rich blue eyes. And a soft red lipstick sets off her look. I've seen that lipstick before, and my dick hardens more at the memory of it smeared over my cock.
We are never getting out of the house at this rate. And I’m happy with that if it means I get to fuck her all night. She turns, showing me the back of her outfit, revealing seams running up the backs of her calves. I groan, knowing now what she has on underneath. She hikes up
Yes, Miss
the back hem of her skirt, flashing the lace tops of her stockings and the suspender belt holding them up. And I am dead.
“We don't have to go out, do we?” I whine, knowing there is no way she is cancelling tonight but wishing there was something I could do to convince her to stay in and ride my face all night with those stockings on.
“Down boy!” She laughs and winks at me, coming down the steps to face me. Plucking the glass out of my hand, she drains the last mouthful, holding my gaze the entire time.
I can’t help myself—I know I’ll pay for it later, and it will be torture, but it’ll be worth every second.
Stepping into her, I take the glass back and tip the ice cubes into my mouth, holding them on my tongue as I back her against the hallway wall. Dropping to my knees, I run my hands up her silky stockings, the sheer fabric gliding against my hands as they slip under her skirt.
I look up to see her smirking and tapping away on her phone. I tilt my head in a questioning move, and she says, “Four minutes until the Uber arrives. Do your worst.”
I lift her leg over my shoulder, pushing the ice cubes to the front of my mouth, and pull her thong aside. Her pussy stares back at me, ready for devouring, and I clamp my mouth over those plump pink lips, sliding the ice against her clit.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
She gasps, and her hips twitch to escape, but I grip her tighter and hold her against my mouth as the ice melts to water, and my hot tongue laves her clit and entrance. Her thighs start to quiver as her hands grip my head, holding me in place.
I moan in satisfaction as I slip two fingers in and feel her clenching her tight pussy around them, pulsing with her impending climax as I stroke her insides. I take her clit into my mouth, and she lets out a guttural groan as I suck hard, and she breaks so beautifully.
I sit back on my heels as she runs her fingers through my hair, smoothing it back into place, and her breaths even out. Our eyes lock, and she shakes her head.
“You’re a naughty boy, aren't you? You’ll pay for that; you know that, don't you?”
“I don't doubt it. I'm sure I’ll hate every second.” I smile back sweetly.
She straightens up and smooths her skirt down.
“Brat,” she says simply, as she picks up her bag and walks to the door.
