“Keep your eyes on me,” Billie said, aware of the heat already seeping through the leg of her Italian suit.
Nina’s focus was razor-sharp, sending a shiver down Billie’s spine. But she wouldn’t show it. Billie would never letanywoman know what they did to her. Because that meant vulnerability, and vulnerability wasn’t something she intended to become familiar with ever again.
“Such a good girl,” Billie murmured, feeling the praise as it landed. The small change in Nina’s mouth. The way her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
Nina’s breath hitched as the warmth of Billie’s thigh settled beneath her, the fabric of her skirt bunching around her hips. Her arms hovered awkwardly at her sides until Billie reached up and took Nina’s wrists in her hands and guided them to her shoulders.
“Support yourself. I don’t want you collapsing before I say so.”
Nina nodded, her breath unsteady as she settled her palms against Billie’s shoulders. Her eyes, wide and waiting, locked with Billie’s again. “C-can I?”
Billie leaned back in her chair, her gaze travelling deliberately from Nina’s flushed face to where their bodies were touching. She angled her thigh, offering Nina the barest hint of friction as she whispered, “Go on.”
Nina’s hips rocked. A hesitant roll at first, that soft grind of her heat against the solid muscle of Billie’s leg. But even the smallest movement made Nina’s breath grow ragged.
“That’s it,” Billie said, one hand sliding up Nina’s thigh beneath the skirt, her fingers curling into the soft flesh just below her arse. “Slow. You know what happens if you make a mess on my suit.”
Nina bit her bottom lip, trying to pace herself. Billie could see the effort it took, the control in every tremble. She wasn’t a woman who ever gave in easily, not with clients and their often ridiculous demands, but here…with Billie, on command.
“Such a neat little worker each and every day,” Billie smirked. “But look at you now. Grinding on my leg like you were made to be pleasured by me.”
“I…” Nina shuddered, her hips tightening for a moment, as though she had to remind herself to breathe.
“Careful, now.” Billie’s other hand came up to frame Nina’s jaw, her thumb pressing against Nina’s lower lip. “You’re close, and I haven’t said you could be.”
“I-I know,” Nina managed, her voice thin and needy, a confession offered on the edge of restraint. “I know, I’m just?—”
“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Billie growled as she pulled her in closer. “I asked for obedience.”
Nina’s thighs quaked, but she kept up her pace. That slow, soft sway of her hips, riding the fabric and the woman beneath it, her breath catching on every glide.
“That’s better,” Billie said, tightening her hand at Nina’s jaw until they were barely a breath apart. “That’s how good girls do it. With control and focus. With whatIwant in mind.”
Nina whimpered, and Billie savoured every wavering second of it. The way Nina’s eyes clung to hers, frantic and hungry…but desperate not to fall.
“You’ve got nine hours left,” Billie whispered. “And if you come before then?” She leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of Nina’s jaw. “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
The shudder that shot through Nina was violent, but Billie would make it worth her while. “Now get up,” Billie said as she lowered her hands from Nina’s body. “And get to work.”
Nina froze for a moment, still straddling Billie’s leg as she panted, her body trembling with unfinished need. “I…”
Billie arched a brow. “Is that hesitation?”
Nina swallowed as she slowly rose to her feet on shaky legs. She straightened her skirt and gathered herself…barely. “No. No, Billie. No hesitation.”
Billie leaned back, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Good. I want you in here at six for another inspection. If you can keep yourself together until then, you’ll be rewarded.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll get nothing at all.” Billie watched her walk towards the door, every step stiff with desire and discipline. “Go on. Don’t keep me waiting twice.”
As the door closed, Billie opened a new swatch book and perused the colours. The muscle in her thigh sent up a small complaint, but she ignored it. She had to change her pants, and she had work to do. Her thigh would be the least of her worries if she didn’t put some order into her routine in the next thirty seconds.
Maeve’s flathad always been the kind of place that looked lived in, unlike Debra’s new home. She smiled as she glanced around, the half-finished book on the arm of the couch, a vase of flowers that had started to droop but had no intention of dying just yet. Then she looked down at the hand-painted cup in her hand, the very one that Maeve always insisted made the coffee taste better.
Debra sat curled up on the couch, her hands wrapped around her cup. She’d already drunk most of it, though she couldn’t remember when. That was a regular occurrence lately. Not knowing how she’d gotten from A to B. Most days, she didn’t know if she was coming or going.
“So it’s done?” Maeve asked as she settled opposite her. “Papers signed, accounts split, freedom officially yours?”
