Purely Professional (17 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Max was in the kitchen at six the next day when Bridget showed up. She let herself in, carrying the camera in her pocket. When she entered the kitchen, he looked up from the pot he was stirring and glanced over his shoulder, smiling. “Hey, you,” he greeted her. Bridget took a moment to look at his incredible ass before moving to stand next to him. He turned and gave her a quick kiss. It was the kiss of a companion, a lover, and he didn’t seem to think anything of it. This did nothing to assuage her growing confusion about whatever this was between them. “Put the camera on the coffee table in the other room, will you?”

“Need any help?” she asked after returning to the kitchen.

“No, I’ve got it. I’m not really sure if you can cook, and I don’t want you screwing up my chicken pot pie.”

“I can cook,” Bridget said, mock-affronted.

“Maybe you can cook for me sometime.” Max stirred the gravy.

“Yeah. Maybe.” She shifted a little to lean against the kitchen island. “You sure I can’t help?” She felt awkward just standing there watching him work.

“You can set the table. The pie’s just about done.”

Dinner was so normal as to be almost strange. Everything felt completely banal. They sat opposite each other at the table, eating chicken pot pie and trading pleasantries about their days. He didn’t ask her about the video or anything sexual at all. She told him about her and Helen’s
Mystery Science Theater 3000
marathon the night before and the mediocre Chinese food they’d ordered. He told her about his plans for his two summer classes, Remedial English and Asian Literature. He liked Asian Literature, but Remedial English was his burden every other summer, a responsibility he shared with other members of his department. As he waxed on about the first essay he’d assigned and the lackluster responses he expected, she found herself watching him instead of listening. He was bright, animated, gesturing with his fork, occasionally stopping to take a bite of food. He was handsome, yes, but he was also intelligent and clever. He made her laugh. He challenged her intellectually and personally, and in bed, he read her like one of his favorite classic novels.

“What?” He stopped speaking, fork in midair. “What is it?”

She smiled, caught. “Nothing. I just like watching you.”

He smiled back. “Thanks. I like watching you too.” He looked off over his shoulder to where the flip camera rested on the coffee table. “Speaking of which, do I have a nice video?”

Bridget paused. Her discomfort was back. “You have a video. I did what you asked.”

“And did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I’m worried.”

“About what?”

She hesitated, twirling her fork in the pie. The thoughts that had been swirling in her head since the previous day came spilling out. “I don’t want any of this to get out. You have a video now, and if things go wrong… This kind of thing gets loose on the Net, and I’m just another slut. I could lose my job, my reputation, everything. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Hey, look at me.” Max touched her hand across the table, and she looked up. “I’m not letting that happen. You know my online pseudonym and you know how much I value privacy. We’re even now. You have my word that no matter what, this stays between us. And if you don’t trust me, we shouldn’t go any further at all.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to ask this, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling. She meant it. She trusted him, had always trusted him. “But when we finish this social experiment we’re doing here, I keep the camera. And no copying the files.”

“All right. When this is over, you keep the camera. No copying the files. I promise.”

Having brought up the idea of “end terms,” Bridget felt uncomfortable. They hadn’t really discussed when this would all be over, but it had always been a limited-time offer. What would she do when Max decided she’d learned enough? The thought evoked a twinge of regret that Bridget didn’t want to analyze too deeply.

Afterward, once the dinner was cleaned up, he led her over to the area he’d set up as an office.

“Now,” he said, sitting on the couch and gesturing to the desk, “I want you to read your blog posts to me.”

“What?” She hadn’t been expecting this and felt her stomach twist.

“You heard me.”

“I don’t…I don’t know that I want to do that.” Her anxiety was growing.

“I didn’t give you an option.” His face was serious, Dominant Max in full form. “Now.”

Bridget sat down in front of the computer and navigated to the
Sultry Submissions
page. Her blog was featured right on the main page alongside an article about how to treat hemp rope for bondage and an infographic about the best types of lubricant. A click brought her to the list of her posts. “All of them?” She’d written four in the past two weeks.

“Yes, all of them. Start at the beginning.”

“Haven’t you read them already?”

“No. I’ve been waiting to hear you read them to me.” Although he stood behind her, she could hear the smile in his voice. “Stop stalling.”

If she didn’t think about him standing there, she might be able to get through it. She took a deep breath and started reading.

He didn’t interrupt her at all as she read, which made it easier to pretend she was alone. Somehow this was more embarrassing than anything she’d done with him so far. She hadn’t just described the sex play, but opened herself up in a way that now felt raw and vulnerable with him listening.

“
My body feels too small to contain these sensations
,
my skin too tight
,
and the pleasure is sharp and fierce and everywhere all at once.
I
don’t have words for this
,
because there are no words
,
but there is color and light and warmth and joy so overwhelming that it feels like pain.
I
think that maybe we’ve gotten heaven all wrong.
Maybe heaven is this moment on the edge of climax
,
where my body breaks because there’s too much pleasure to hold back.
It’s not just sex;
it’s surrender
,
and each time I fall
,
he catches me.
”

As Bridget narrated, she realized how obvious it was that she felt more for him than just friendship, and wondered if he could deduce it as well.

Finally she reached the last entry, the one she’d just written two nights before. Bridget kept reading, just trying to get through it, when she felt him approach. She wouldn’t turn around, even though she knew he was standing behind her. His hands landed lightly on her shoulders, and even though she was half expecting it, she jumped. His palms slid down her chest, reaching under her shirt, under her bra, his fingers finding her sensitive nipples. When he pinched them, she moaned slightly despite herself.

“Keep reading,” he said. She did, her voice trembling now, her nipples tingling as he rolled them between his fingers.

“
My breasts ache
,
crushed against the desk by the force of his hand between my shoulder blades
,
and the metal burns cold against the side of my face
,
but I don’t want to be anywhere else as he keeps thrusting inside of me.
” God, it was difficult to continue with his hands driving her into madness, but she pressed on, trying to keep her voice steady. “
I
hear each choking breath as he races toward completion.
I
can’t move away
,
pinned by the force of his body and by my own desperate need
,
hips canting back to take more.
When I come
,
I
know I am powerless
,
helpless
,
pinned down and driven into this pleasure by his cock and hands.
When he comes
,
though
,
I
am powerful beyond measure
,
and when he falls apart
,
he falls apart inside me
,
shattering
,
his moans harsh and wrecked and lost.
He makes me feel that I am saving him
,
but when I kiss him afterward
,
I
know that he is saving me.
”

By the time she finished reading, she was soaking wet and she wanted him to fuck her again, but she was afraid to turn around and see the look on his face. Had she gone too far?

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable moment before she heard his voice in a low murmur. “You’re a very talented writer. Do I really make you feel all those things?”

“Yes,” she whispered, telling the truth.

“What do you want right now?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’ll bet you do want that, don’t you?” His hands continued to abuse her nipples.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“You’re getting a bit spoiled. Come sit by me.”

Bridget walked over and sat next to him, still aroused, still unsettled. He seemed to read her mind. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

She hesitated, sensing a trap. “I’m not going to answer that.”

Max smiled, then grew serious again. “I need to ask you something, Bridget.” She felt a twinge of anxiety. What was he going to ask her?

“Yes?”

He hesitated. “Bridget, what is this for you?”

Oh, this question. She had wanted to avoid this question. Why did it matter? If they were having fun, did it have to mean anything else? But with the things she’d written, well, it was clear why he was asking.

“I mean,” he went on, “I don’t know that we’re…well, things have…” He stopped, searching for the right words, and then shook his head. “Never mind.”

Oh, thank God. They could avoid the conversation. “Okay.”

“Let’s forget it. You made me a video.”

She blushed. If this were the alternative, she’d rather talk about feelings.

“We’re going to watch that video,” he said. “Come over to the TV.”

Bridget anxiously tapped her fingers on her thighs as Max hooked up the camera to the flat-screen television. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t even like to look at
photographs
of herself, and this was far beyond that.

“Bet you weren’t expecting to watch this with me,” he said, sitting beside her on the couch.

She shook her head.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I like to see you embarrassed.” He clicked the remote, and the video started, larger than life on the television screen. On screen, Bridget was undressing with single-minded focus, gaze locked onto the camera. The Bridget on the couch averted her eyes, humiliated. This wasn’t what she wanted at all.

“Please,” she said.

“Please, what?”

“Please don’t make me watch.” Her face felt hot. “Please, Max. I’ll do anything else.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just tell me you didn’t want to obey me?”

“Please, sir.” She hoped the honorific would be enough. She didn’t want to watch herself lose control like this, definitely not with him.

“I don’t think I’m giving you an option here.” He made a show out of leering at the television. “You should really watch this. I’ll bet you moan the whole time.”

This didn’t feel like the good kind of embarrassing, the kind that turned her on. In fact, she was becoming so turned
off
that it worried her, and that worry combined with her embarrassment led to a sort of low-grade anxiety. She glanced back up at the screen for a moment, just long enough to see her on-screen self getting set up on the bed.

Her anxiety was escalating to panic. She needed a way to end it. “Red!” she blurted out.

He paused the video, disbelief on his face. “Really?”

“Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Fine.” He turned off the video, his body tense, shoulders stiff. “I’ll watch it later without you. But if you don’t want to watch, you can still make yourself useful.” He unzipped his pants, freeing his cock. He was already hard. “Suck on me.”

The request wasn’t really a surprise, but his voice sounded somehow…cold. More distant than he had been. All right, this she could do, and she could do it well. She knelt in front of him on the sofa and closed her lips down over his cock.

Bridget was rewarded by Max’s low groan. He slid one hand into her hair and pulled her closer, forcing her to deep throat him. Her anxiety eased somewhat, arousal returning with its familiar warmth. She felt her clit throb and wanted to slip a hand down and touch herself, but knew this wasn’t for her.

“You’re such a good little cocksucker,” he said, his voice gruff, taunting. “Keep sucking. I can use you for whatever I want, do you understand? And right now, I want you to suck my cock.”

Bridget moaned, she couldn’t help it: she
liked
feeling like his whore. This was easy, in a way. While sucking him, she could forget that she was starting to feel something more than professional detachment, could distance herself from emotion as she worked her lips and tongue on him.

Max reached down with both hands and pinched her nipples, and she gasped. Oh, fuck, she was horny. Bridget paid him back by running her tongue around the head of his penis and sucking hard, drawing a long, sexy moan out of him. She felt his hips twitching, felt him approaching his end, and she doubled her efforts. Finally, he came, arching upward, his hand fisted in her hair, and she drank him down.

At last, he released his grip on her hair, and she pulled back, licking her lips, still aroused. To her satisfaction, Max looked dazed and spent, even speechless in the aftermath of his orgasm. As she watched, he regained his composure, a rigidity returning to his body language as he tucked his cock back into his jeans.

“I’ll bet you’re horny, aren’t you?” He drew his zipper closed.

No harm in being truthful. “Yes, sir.”

“And you want to come?”

“Yes, sir,” she repeated.