Wesley handed Lilah a glass of wine, struggling to hide a smile. He’d been affectionate, welcoming and polite since she came through the door, never giving her chance to kiss him into a dizzy, dark longing, presenting her with a billowing soft cloud of hospitality to attack, floundering and ineffective, until she tired of crossing her legs and letting her tight skirt slide up to show skin above stockings, grew bored of fiddling with a button that was all that held a translucent blouse from parting to reveal a lace trimmed satin bra...sometimes Wesley thought Lilah really believed men were stupid enough to respond to tricks like that – and they usually did for her, he supposed - without recognising their artifice, the crackling covering of cellophane that made them tasteless in every sense of the word.
So he sat beside her, arm resting on the back of the couch, smiled kindly, ignoring the display, and asked her how her day had gone, coaxing her into revealing far more than a few square inches of flesh his fingers and mouth already knew. Under his interested stare and gentle prompting, she began to talk, gulping down her wine, standing and pacing with a restless urgency as she related a dozen petty victories, an equal number of stabs and jabs from above and beneath her on the food chain...and Wesley congratulated himself on his self control, even as his eyes slid to the clock on his desk and his cock hardened with a pain he welcomed as punishment for his own frailty...because he’d wanted her from that first imperious knock on the door and seeing her like this, open and natural, the sultry temptress forgotten and the woman revealed was profoundly, deeply...
“I’m sorry? You did what?”
Lilah’s spate of words, good humoured now, sputtered to a finish and she tossed back her glossy fall of hair and grinned impishly. “Why, Wesley; did I shock you? It’s only fun; not like I’d actually kill more people than I needed to in a month to win the office sweeps.” Her full mouth twisted into a pout, gleefully inviting him to share the joke, “Unlike Forrester on the third –”
Wesley rose from the couch, slamming his untasted glass of wine down on the table and advanced on her. “You’re laughing about the deaths of people who did no worse than stand between your firm and its corrupt, self-serving goals? Lilah, just when I think, just when I hope –”
“That you can save me?” Lilah asked, each word clipped and curt now, her mouth sulky. “Forget it. If it makes you feel screwing me is racking you up points on the good side of the ledger, as if every orgasm is another breadcrumb on the trail to redemption, fine; lie to yourself all you want; I like that but don’t ever think I’m buying into it. You’re fucking me because you want me, Wesley. Because you love how I make you feel. Because you can’t get enough of me.”
Wesley let the rage die back, banking it under a coldness to match her own. Losing his temper with Lilah never worked. “I was going to say, ‘hoped I’d reached the limits of your ability to revolt me’. Saving you isn’t really high on my to do list. I’m sorry; lost causes have never really been my thing.”
Lilah swayed towards him, hands slipping around his neck as she looked up at him under heavy lashes. “Don’t be sorry, lover. That’s not why I’m here...and pardon me for mentioning it, but you don’t feel revolted.” The wriggle against him and the knowing, provocative, ever so slightly contemptuous smile...Wesley wondered just how Lilah saw him and wondered if her description would include, ‘weak’ because right then, that was how he felt. Rock, paper, scissors...what beat weak? Anger, cold enough to freeze it solid, crack and splinter it with a single blow...
“You see my desire for you as a vulnerability to be exploited, don’t you?” Lilah pulled back, puzzled, but his arms rose and captured her, keeping her with him. “You’re quite correct that I want you – touch me Lilah.... See? Not really a secret. Good; you can stop now. What you don’t see is that a weakness acknowledged and accepted becomes a strength. I don’t think you’ve ever really admitted that you want me just as much and that makes you weak.” He brought his hand round and let his fingers rest lightly across her mouth as the indignant protest rose and tumbled out. “Ssh...I won’t believe you, you know...but possibly I can help you with your problem.”
Lilah jerked her head, freeing her mouth. “What problem? Let go of me!”
“You don’t see weakness as a character trait that needs eradicating? Oh, I’m sure you must given your choice of career, your scorn for anyone who fails and fall by the wayside, oh, you should be begging me to cut it out of you, bit by bit...” He laughed at her as she flinched, just a little, just enough. “Not literally, Lilah; you really shouldn’t judge everyone by your own standards. I was always told by ...people, that a good beating was sufficient to accomplish that goal, though they never quite got around to explaining the logic behind it. Doesn’t matter; I was a bright child - when I wasn’t crying and cowering – see, I’ll even tell you that –”
“Knew it already,” Lilah said, staring at him, her eyes gleaming. “Know lots about you, Wesley.”
He arched an eyebrow, quelling the tremor of unease. “Do you? Isn’t that nice. Well, I worked it out for myself. Not tricky; you simply make the alternative worse than the fear that causes the weakness. Very neat and tidy.”
Lilah sneered at him. “If you get your kicks that way, Wes, don’t let me stop you. I like playing games.”
“So it seems,” said Wesley. “How much did you win, Lilah?” His hand came up and wound into her hair, tugging her head back, not ungently. He ran his tongue along the taut curve of her neck and bit down hard. “How much?” He made his voice mildly curious knowing a demand would produce less honesty.
She shuddered and arched, just as he’d known she would, and a distant part of his mind tried to decide if that predictability was boring or satisfying in a lover. “Fifty six dollars. It’s not meant to be a real money maker, you know? Just –”
“Fun,” Wesley said calmly. “Fifty six. I’ll remember that ...oh, don’t roll your eyes, Lilah, I’m going to give you far more strokes than that...”
She was still standing close enough for him to hear her swallow, feel her breath warm on his face. “What makes you think I’ll do that? Play your little games?”
His hand plunged between her legs, under her skirt and up, cupping the hot damp fabric that clung to her flesh. “This?”
She didn’t whimper; he wasn’t sure she could, but her teeth drove down hard into her lip and the sound that forced its way past them was oh, so close to it... “Point taken.I’ll let you –”
“You’ll do what? Oh, no, Lilah, I don’t think it works like that. ‘Let’. Not the right word at all.”
Unexpectedly he laughed, real amusement making it impossible not to give her that small victory. “Lilah, you’re incorrigible.”
She grinned. “One of my charms?”
“One of them,” he agreed. He cupped her face and kissed her. “I’m still going to do it though.”
“Should be fun,” she said, pulling free and heading for the bedroom, shedding clothing as she went and looking back at him expectantly.
Wesley followed her and watched as she lay on the bed facing him, her full breasts kissing in a soft flowing curve of flesh. “Which part? The part where I make you come? I imagine it will be.” He stripped, lay down beside her and bent his head to her breasts, sucking and biting each nipple in turn as his hand moved between her legs, rubbing and sliding against slippery skin, insistently and inexorably pushing her towards a climax.
She spread her legs wider, urging him on, and whispered tauntingly: “Lost your nerve? Not going to turn my ass red after all?”
Wesley lifted his head and watched her eyes glaze and empty as she came in a violent shudder of pleasure. “Oh, yes,” he murmured, letting his hand drop to his erection, bringing himself off quickly, efficiently, “but I never planned for us to enjoy it. That would be – inappropriate? I think that was the word he used.”
He pulled her over his knee while she was still drugged by sensation and paused after the first blow. “You will tell me if there’s any danger of that, won’t you? Because if you come, Lilah, I won’t be pleased.” His hand struck her again, a single smack, echoing flatly in the charged, heavy silence. “Do try and remember why we’re doing this. It’s not a game.” His voice was desolate behind the sternness. “They have winners...”
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