Wesley handed Lilah a glass of wine, struggling to hide a smile. Heâd
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 heâd 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...
“Iâm sorry? You did what?”
Lilahâs 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? Itâs only fun; not like Iâd 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 -”
“Enough!”
Wesley rose from the couch, slamming his untasted glass of wine down on
the table and advanced on her. “Youâre 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 donât ever think Iâm buying into
it. Youâre fucking me because you want me, Wesley. Because you love how
I make you feel. Because you canât 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 Iâd reached the limits of your ability to revolt meâ. Saving you
isnât really high on my to do list. Iâm 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. “Donât be sorry, lover. Thatâs not why
Iâm here...and pardon me for mentioning it, but you donât 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, ‘weakâ 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, donât
you?” Lilah pulled back, puzzled, but his arms rose and captured her,
keeping her with him. “Youâre quite correct that I want you - touch me
Lilah.... See? Not really a secret. Good; you can stop now. What you
donât see is that a weakness acknowledged and accepted becomes a
strength. I donât think youâve 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 wonât 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 donât see weakness as a character trait that needs eradicating?
Oh, Iâm 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 shouldnât
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. Doesnât
matter; I was a bright child - when I wasnât crying and cowering - see,
Iâll 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? Isnât
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, donât 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 heâd 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. Itâs not meant to be a real
money maker, you know? Just -”
“Fun,” Wesley said calmly. “Fifty six. Iâll remember that ...oh, donât
roll your eyes, Lilah, Iâm 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 Iâll 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 didnât whimper; he wasnât 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.Iâll let you -”
“Youâll do what? Oh, no, Lilah, I donât think it works like that.
‘Letâ. Not the right word at all.”
“Whatever.”
Unexpectedly he laughed, real amusement making it impossible not to
give her that small victory. “Lilah, youâre incorrigible.”
She grinned. “One of my charms?”
“One of them,” he agreed. He cupped her face and kissed her. “Iâm 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 thereâs any
danger of that, wonât you? Because if you come, Lilah, I wonât be
pleased.” His hand struck her again, a single smack, echoing flatly in
the charged, heavy silence. “Do try and remember why weâre doing this.
Itâs not a game.” His voice was desolate behind the sternness. “They
have winners...”
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