“I’m not sleeping with Ben.”
“No, you’re pretending to read a book.” She leaves her seat and strides over to me, pulling the book from my hands. “Blair, you’ve been in a black dog of a mood for days. What’s the matter?”
I look at her and see the girl who was my best friend, my confidante. The keeper of my secrets. Some of them, anyway.
“I thought he slept with someone else. I think I hurt him when he realised that.” The words choke in my throat and I don’t know if it’s to do with Ben or my father. Both men in my life are there by threads, tangled fragile threads.
“He’s a man. He probably was sleeping with someone else and you just caught him out.”
There’s a level of cynicism I hope I never reach.
“I don’t think that was the case.” And I don’t. All I’ve heard from him are the security details for the events and dinners I’ve been attending. Nothing else. He’s become my heart-shaped ghost.
Her gaze is disbelieving.
“Is he good in bed?”
I start to smile.
“Does he fuck like an animal? He’s all man. Can’t say I haven’t wondered what it’d be like to be under him, because I bet he never lets you on top.”
I tie his hands to the bedstead and he laughs, trying pathetically to pull out of them. His eyes are shining and I can tell he’s desperate to be able to touch me.
“Have you ever had this done before?”
“Done what? A bit of silk and a cock ring? Never.”
He’s lying. Too relaxed.
I rise on my knees about him, trail my nails down his chest towards his hard cock and then graze the tip. He shudders.
“I might keep you here all week.”
“I might let you.” His eyes are heavy and dark.
He watches as I lower my head, licking a dark nipple, kissing and nipping his flesh. He tastes salty, of him and I trail my tongue down his body, letting my breasts graze his skin.
Before I get to his cock I kneel up again, cupping my breasts and squeezing my nipples into hard peaks.
Ben groans.
I drop a hand to between my legs and stroke a finger over my clit, feeling the wetness that’s gathered.
My finger is glistening with my arousal when I offer it to him, stroking it along his lips like it’s balm.
He bites. Sucks.
I take my hand back, tease his cock, tighten the ring. He’s engorged and huge, probably in some pain. I bow down, letting my hair tickle his stomach, seeing his taut abs tense.
“Blair.” My name is a prayer on his lips.
The first taste is always the sweetest. I lick the tip, then swipe my tongue around the tip, looking up at him. He’s pulling on the binds around his wrists, desperate to take hold of my head and regain control.
I relax my throat and take him into my mouth, swallowing and sucking and breathing, bringing him closer and closer until he’s nearly there.
Then I stop. I sit back and hear him groan.
“Please don’t stop.”
