The Price

Kristine Lynn
8 mins read
Published 9 months ago
Chapter 3

The Price (Part 3)

They were enveloped in privacy, but the music that rose over the curtains, snaked around them, reminded her they weren’t alone. 

Jesus, this was hot. Did people really do this? Live like this?

“I want to fuck you, Marissa. But you need to give me permission.” 

“Didn’t I give you that when I signed your contract?” she asked, an edge to her voice. 

“Careful,” he warned her. “A simple yes or no will do, Marissa.” 

“Yes. Sir,” she added. He shot her a cutting gaze that raked over her skin, scorching her as if it were his fingernails trailing over her. 

“Good. Then lay down,” he commanded. She nodded again and laid back against the seat. “What is your safe word? Do you remember?”

She nodded again, though it was as far from her thoughts as she was miles from home. 

“Snow White.” 

He nodded his approval.

“Spread your legs for me, Marissa.” 

She obliged, feeling the cool air sneak under the satin and meet her slick. 

He lifted her dress up enough to hook his thumbs around her panties and pull them down around her ankles. He slipped one leg at a time through the holes in the lace, running his hand from the top of her thigh to her feet in the process. She groaned, arched her back. She looked down at him, kneeling between her legs, and cried out as he fisted two fingers inside her without warning. 

“Shh, darling. I told you, I want you for myself. If you can’t contain your emotions, we’ll have to leave. Do you understand?”

She nodded. Yes, she did. 

With that, he shoved another finger inside her folds, filling her completely. She bit down hard on her tongue, a metallic tinge meaning she’d drawn blood. But she couldn’t feel a thing except the exquisite pain and pleasure as Philip finger-fucked her close to coming. Her chest rose and fell with every scream she wanted to let out but knew she couldn’t, at the risk of having to stop. 

And she couldn’t stop. Not when she felt every nerve ending come alive under his touch. 

When he pulled his fingers from her, she almost protested, until he dipped his head between her legs, and pressed his mouth to her sex. He pulled at her clit with his tongue, while he sucked on her, drawing her out for him. Jesus, oh Jesus, he knew how to use his mouth. She’d be self-conscious if she didn’t feel so fucking fantastic. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, Philip, yes. Please. More.” She didn’t raise her voice any louder than a whisper, but it sounded like she’d yelled she was so attuned to her emotions. 

“If you insist,” he said, standing up, leaving her pussy aching and throbbing with loneliness. “Stand up.” She tried, but wobbled on legs that trembled. He wrapped his arms around her waist, positioning her so that her knees were on the bench, her arms atop the seat. 

He unclasped her dress, a move as sensual as when he’d used his tongue to fuck her—maybe even more so. Her skin ignited with desire. Touch me, it screamed as his hand would graze a section of exposed skin, making the rest of her jealous. 

She wanted to be consumed by this man, by his hands, his tongue, his rock-hard cock. 

He slid the satin down over her shoulders until her breasts sprung free, heavy with want and need unfulfilled. His hands seemed to understand and cupped them, teasing her nipples between two fingers until they hardened for him.

She gasped, nodded. 

If she couldn’t shout her needs to him, she’d do what she could to tell him what a good job he was doing. 

Philip continued to slide the fabric down her body, stopping when it caught on her hips. He pulled hard from each direction, tearing the satin in two, and laying her bare before him. 

Christ, that was hot. What would she leave in, though? She didn’t give that another thought, as he pushed her knees apart and slid a finger along her clit. All her mind wanted was to be screwed into oblivion.

He brought his finger up to her lips, pushed it inside her mouth, ran her own juices along her tongue. She tasted like salted cream. More fluid slid out of her, ran down her leg. 

She sucked on his finger as he used his other hand to remove his belt, slide his slacks down around his ankles. When his cock pressed against the length of her ass, she groaned again. 

“God, yes. Please fuck me, Philip. Fuck me hard.”

He growled into her back, his voice vibrating though her, and teased her nipples again. She heard the unwrapping of foil and within seconds, his sheathed tip was at her entrance. She bucked her hips back, opening wide for him as he slid in, gentle at first, then hard. He rammed against her walls, and she couldn’t help the cry that broke free from her chest. He touched every wall inside her, and as he moved in and out, she felt what that could do. 

An orgasm built, wild and forceful. “Harder,” she demanded. This time, he gave in, met her request with gusto. He rocked inside her, thrusting against her clit, drawing her closer to oblivion. His hips slapped her ass, jostling it as he drove harder inside her. His hands reached around, squeezed her breasts so hard her nipples ached. 

“I’m close,” she warned him. 

That served to send him plumbing her depths with new vigor, fucking her harder than she’d ever been fucked. Her walls closed in around him, convulsing and shuddering her into bliss. She felt him contract, knew he was coming with her, and as he slowed, she rocked her hips around him to continue the pleasure that released within her. 

He gripped her hips again, and sat, pulling her on top of him, his cock still hard inside her. She stood up enough to slide along his shaft, then sat down with her full weight, plunging him back inside her. She kept this up while his hands moved over her breasts, then migrated down to tease her still-tender clit. When she felt a second orgasm building, she rode him faster, her breasts bouncing each time she sat on top of him. 

Finally sated, she leaned back against him. Her breathing slowed as his cock slid out of her, followed by a stream of her liquid pleasure. 

“I need you,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

She grabbed his cock, slid the condom off, and massaged his length. She didn’t know who she was there, who she’d become under his touch, but she knew with absolute certainty she couldn’t go back to the girl huddled in a freezing apartment. Not when she could have this. 

“You have me.”

“You’ll be mine? You’ll let me have you whenever I need you?” 

“We’ll work out the details later, but yes. I’m yours whether I like it or not.” 

He slid a finger inside her, swirled it around, pulled at her clit. 

“Nothing would make me happier, Marissa. Can I take you back to the hotel? I want to fuck you again where I can hear you cry out my name.” 

She nodded, words escaping her again as he added another finger to glide in and out of her.

“What will I wear out of here?” 

He laughed and brought her to her feet. He licked his fingers of her cum, then unbuttoned his dress shirt to reveal a tight white undershirt beneath it. Christ, he was beautiful. 

“Take this.” He buttoned the shirt around her, then made a belt of his tie. She laughed. 

“How en vogue.” 

“Come.” She took his hand and followed him out of the curtains, her torn dress left behind, a memento for the staff to find later. She didn’t care, not in the least, not especially when his hand slid under the shirt that barely covered her ass, and teased the entrance to her sex. 

She had the promise of fucking that went beyond her greatest imagination, a hedonistic life of passion if she’d reach out and take it. She would. Of course she would. 

The price she’d paid to get there was worth it. If it ever wasn’t, she’d leave, go back to the woman she’d been before. 

Somehow, as they slid into the back seat of his car, put the divider up so the driver couldn’t see how Philip sat her atop his lap, fingered her the whole way back to the hotel, she didn’t think that was a possibility, though. 

She’d seen the other side, and wanted it. All of it.


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