Throughout dinner, she’s cautiously quiet, watching me, eating her meal without a word. Drinking the wine I pour. The only sound is that of clinking silverware as we eat in silence. I know she has a hundred questions. A thousand. But she’s smart enough not to ask them.
When we’re finished eating, I set my napkin down and we stand. She follows my lead and I notice how she isn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. I gesture for her to walk ahead of me and she knows where to go. She doesn’t glance back as she makes her way to the library where I open the door and we enter.
“Sit down.” Like the night before, I pour us each a drink, hand her a glass.
“Thank you for the computer,” she says.
I’m not expecting that, but I nod in acceptance.
“Why do you want me here?” she asks right away.
“You asked me the same thing last night.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Why did you offer yourself?” I ask. Same as last night. I guess we’re both on repeat.
She shakes her head. She won’t answer.
I slide one hand into my pocket, search her eyes.
“Do I scare you, Cilla?”
She shakes her head, but the way her throat works when she swallows, the way her eyes widen, it tells me I do.
“You’re a liar,” I say. I swallow my drink, set the glass down and kneel on the floor before her chair.
Startled, she sits up straighter, her free hand grips the arm of the chair. I put my hands on her closed knees and push them apart. She makes a sound, and the ice in her glass clinks when she sets it down. I can’t see her expression because I’m not looking at her face as I push the dress up, draw her toward the edge of the chair. I hold her legs wide, exposing her inch by inch until her pussy comes into view.
My hands squeeze her thighs. I study the wet, pink mouth of her sex, draw her folds open with my thumbs and bring my face to her, my nose to her, my mouth to her. I inhale deeply, her scent an aphrodisiac. She swallows audibly and her fingernails are digging into the arms of the chair. And when I sweep my tongue over her clit, she gasps.
I have never enjoyed eating a woman like I do Cilla. After that first taste, I devour her, tasting every inch of her, dipping my tongue inside her, taking her swollen clit into my mouth and sucking. I watch her face when I do, feeling her hands lock around my head, pulling me to her and pushing me away at once, and it’s not long before she throws her head back, giving herself to it, to the pleasure, to me, coming on my tongue, her taste the most delicious taste.
When I’m finished, I stand. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as Cilla watches me, her breathing short, her face flushed. The shoulder of her dress has slipped, exposing one breast. I reach down, take hold of the dress and push it to her waist so she’s sitting with her pussy and her tits exposed.
“Hands and knees,” I say, pointing to the floor at my feet.
She doesn’t move, just sits staring up at me. I bring my hand to her face, touch her cheek, twist it around to the back of her head and urge her down.
“Hands and knees,” I repeat as she slides to the floor, but doesn’t quite get into the position. She remains kneeling there, looking up at me.
I strip off my jacket and open my shirt. I don’t have time to undress. I walk around her, kneel behind her. She doesn’t look back. I slide her dress up her back and when it’s at her neck, I push her head to the floor. She lowers herself onto her elbows, her forehead on the carpet. I undo my pants, widen her knees with my own as I take my position behind her. I settle in, take her hips in my hands, spread her wide, and I look at her. I just look at her for a long time. Her back is arched, her cunt is dripping. When I close my thumb over her tight little asshole, she gasps, clenches. I slap her hip.
“This is mine too. I want to see what’s mine. Touch it. Fuck it.” My voice is a low, deep growl. She cranes her neck to look behind her. “Mine, Cilla.”
She swallows, faces forward. I wonder if she’s preparing herself to be fucked in the ass, but that’s not the hole I want tonight. Still, I close my finger over it, push a little, only because I can. Because I want her to know I own her. I own this hole. I own every part of her.