I had never been so turned on.

I tilted my head to get a good look at him. He took off his shirt, and I couldn't stop staring at his lean stomach muscles that looked as if they were chiseled from rock. Mr. Felton walked to the bed and forced opened my legs. Pushing his erection onto me, he slammed my wrists above my head. The roughness, a pure sexually driven act of dominance that mingled with lust, was bad news. The desire to let loose and be completely physical overcame me as he trailed his fingers along my collarbone. Then he was touching me in all the right places, allowing my orgasm to build, my pulse to race, and my breath to quicken.

"Please, sir. Give it to me." My body begged for satisfaction. I begged for satisfaction.

Mr. Felton was on top of me, his body above mine, and he was staring into my eyes.

"Is this how you imagined it? Being taken?" He didn't move, but the pressure on me, encouraged me to wrap my legs around him.

"Exactly," I choked out, breathless.

"You're so wet, so turned on, so ready to be fucked," he whispered, soft and sensually, in my ear. His lips were close to my neck, trailing up and down, taking little nibbles along the way. The smell of fresh soap and man lingered.

"I want it so bad," I whispered in his ear. "I can barely stand it."

"Good," he said, deep and raspy.

He lay next to me on the bed and propped himself up with one elbow and trailed his fingers over my body lightly before pulling something out of the drawer next to the bed. He returned with a black silky material in his hands. With great care, he wrapped it over my eyes and the room went dark.

With soft fingertips, he trailed up the side of my body and stomach. The feel of his touch intensified because I couldn't see him. I almost lost myself in it. With one finger, he crossed my mouth and traced my bottom lip with his, and then continued down my jawline. My body instantly responded. The next thing I knew, one nipple was in his mouth, and his tongue circled the tip and flicked it around. I almost couldn't handle myself. Handfuls of sheets and blanket were in my grasp. He pulled away, groaned, and kissed down my stomach with his soft, luscious lips. Behind this tiger of a man was someone gentle, sensitive, and sexually driven.

Like clockwork, I parted my legs as his hand searched below my stomach. He readjusted himself and then moved his body back into position between me. I could feel the pressure of his cock on my sex, and it felt good, hard and longing for me. His lips searched and teased my mouth. When I moved in to kiss him, he pulled away.

"Rule number two, never kiss a client on his or her mouth," he purred.

"But."

He placed his finger over my mouth and whispered in my ear. "Shh. If you are to be one of my girls, you have to play by the rules."

"This is protocol, right?"

"You are mouthy, aren't you?"

"Will it hurt when you go inside of me?"

"No," he chuckled. "I'm not going to fuck you, Ms. Downs."

But my body begged for pleasure, and he undid the blindfold.

"I want you to look at me while you come. Imagine me pushing deep inside of that pretty pussy," he said. The way he looked at my body as if it were precious gold turned me on. I may have never had sex before, but at that moment, I wanted to be fucked, and hard.

He rubbed his hand over my breast and down over my belly button until he was down below. Parting my sex, he rubbed clockwise with his index and middle finger allowing my wetness to lubricate. The slow, steady movements felt like heaven. Little moans escaped from me as he picked up the pace and moved his hands horizontally and then vertically, learning what I liked most.

"Ohhh," I moaned as he discovered me.

"That's it. Moan as loud as you want. It's fucking sexy," he whispered.

The circular movements became faster and harder, and everything below began to tighten as if I would completely detonate into nothingness. I pushed my sex into him harder. I wanted him to keep going, keep pleasuring me into sweet oblivion. I grabbed the blanket and waited for the sweet release.

"Yes. I am almost there."

But instead of continuing, he stopped before I tipped over the edge.

"How does it feel?" The smile on his face was sinister and evil.

"How do you want me to feel?"

Before I could say another word, Mr. Felton flipped me onto my stomach and pinned me to the bed. With a slight movement, he moved my hair from my neck and whispered in my ear.

"While here, I don't answer your fucking sarcastic questions, Ms. Downs." And that's when I felt a burning, but pleasurable pain from his hand on my ass. I grabbed the comforter, and another semi-soft slap came, and another, and another, and then my arms were pinned against the wall, and he was touching my clit from behind. I pushed my ass onto his erection, and he groaned.

"Concentrate on how you feel. Tell me," he said, gently.

I closed my eyes letting my body respond to his touch.

"I want you to fuck me. Not soft, but hard. I want to be your whore, your dirty, little sex slave, and have you come so hard that it hurts. I want to make you feel like I do." I pushed into him, feeling his dick ache for me.

Still behind me, he forcefully pulled me against him, my back to his chest, and trailed one hand up my waist as his other continued to explore below. I grabbed my nipples and pinched, allowing the sweet sensation to shoot through my body.

"You're so fucking hot," he said into my shoulder, biting the curve.

A warm and tingly sensation spread from my clit to my vagina. My toes began to curl, and I knew I would soon lose myself in the rhythm. Every part of my body tensed, and I cried out in satisfaction until each inch of me relaxed and melted into him. I leaned against his bare chest, and he wrapped his arms around my stomach, and placed his chin on my shoulder. For a moment, I thought I felt his face contract into a smile.

"I want to please you," I said to the wall that I still faced.

"You couldn't fucking handle me, Ms. Downs." He gave a small slap to my ass and then moved himself from the bed and began to dress.

"Mr. Felton," I whispered.

"What we do in here is a lesson to help you understand what your body likes and craves. I can't have an inexperienced virgin running around."

"So this was protocol?"

"Understanding your body will allow you to better please our clients."

"Clients? You are always the fucking asshole," I muttered and lay down on the bed.

"I guarantee one hundred percent satisfaction. Oh, and get dressed, Ms. Downs. We don't sleep where we play."

Twelve

The next morning, I woke to cool sheets and an empty bed. Curtains allowed streaks of dim light to stack and spread among the wooden floor. Morning had barely come, but my body woke with an eagerness to start the day.

I needed to know more about Finnley Felton. I opened the browser on my phone and searched his name. 1 million pages showed. Finnley Felton, Sexiest CEO Under Thirty. Pictures of him with women on vacation, in suits, at movie premieres; he was everywhere.

I found pages of gossip sites with rumors of him and celebrities and countless interviews. I searched the web for an hour, trying to soak up as much information about him as I could. Mr. Felton was only five years older than me, and known for being a bastard in social situations. Someone pinned the tail on the ass that was my boss.

The floor felt cold on my feet, so I slid on the pink slippers and slipped down the stairs.

Surprisingly, Mr. Felton sat at the table sipping a cup of cream-filled coffee as he read the paper. Before making myself known, I watched how he acted when he thought no one was looking.

Completely comfortable in his skin, he chuckled as he read and sipped. Although it was barely light outside, Mr. Felton dressed professionally in a brown vest, cream dress shirt, and a checkered tie that brought out the red hues in the browns. I realized how early his days must begin. I supposed being the CEO of a successful sex corporation, and being ranked as one of the sexiest men in business, wasn't easy.

"Come in, Ms. Downs. Have a seat." His eyes never left the newspaper.

Damn it. Busted.

Gently, he folded the newspaper in half and then interlocked his fingers. He greeted me with a soft smile although it never reached his eyes.

"Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm, like a baby."

"How rude of me. Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea, even? I'll make it how I like it. You do know the English are known for excellent coffee and tea, and for many, many other things."

With a purpose, he stood and walked to the kitchen. Cups tinkered together as Mr. Felton hummed a soft tune. He hummed, too?

I couldn't help but fantasize and replay the events of last night. The way he straddled me, and held my wrists above my head, or the way I wanted it.

A delicate coffee cup and saucer with a cookie scooted in front of me. Steam rose from the top and the sweet scent of cream and sugar smelled like heaven.

"It's hot, be careful."

I picked the thin glass cup and blew the steam from the top, then placed it back on the saucer with a smile and a thank you. The tension pulled at the pit of my stomach, and I wanted to talk about last night, but didn't. Awkwardness stretched on for minutes before either of us spoke. With hopes for a distraction, I took a small nibble from the soft, honey-covered cookie. Sweet warmth filled my mouth, and before I knew it, I had eaten the whole thing.