u/flyh955

She was controlling the pace. The heat was sticky, Rey was clearly aroused and the stickiness, it was her wetness. The silk hadn’t absorbed it, it just held her wetness allowing it to seep through. I moved my finger in a circling motion. There was plenty of wetness.

Pulling away she stepped around me, close enough that her dress brushed my hip, her perfume trailing behind her like a hand.

She moved toward the bar, picked up her glass, took one slow sip.

Never breaking eye contact. “Taste me” I licked my fingers. She smiles seeing the reaction flash across my eyes. Not tasteless honey, just salty sweet musk.

Then she set her glass down again and turned.

Her hair stayed pinned up, neck exposed, shoulders bare, straps delicate against her skin.

She looked like a woman dressed to be undressed slowly.

Rey walked back to me.

Stopped close.

Close enough that I could feel the heat of her body without touching.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, “what do you think happens now?”

I held her gaze.

Rey smiled.

“That pause,” she murmured. “That is what I wanted.”

She lifted her hand.

This time, she touched my face. "You really are a genuine man"

Just the tips of her fingers ran along my jaw, mirroring what I’d done to her.

Soft.

Possessive.

And then she leaned in again, lips near mine, breath warm.

“Because now,” she whispered, “you’re not hosting.”

Her fingers slid down from my jaw to my throat, resting there for a moment, feeling my pulse.

“And I’m not finished.”

The boat moved gently beneath us.

The terrace music was nothing now.

Just a distant heartbeat across water.

And in the warm light of the saloon, with Rey looking at me like I was something she had decided she wanted, the weekend finally shifted.

Not into chaos.

Into something quieter.

More dangerous.

Rey stepped back half a pace. "fill the glasses, lets talk"

Just enough to make me pour and follow.

And she smiled as if she already knew I would.

Rey’s eyes never left mine as she spoke, her tone calm, almost conversational, but edged with something sharper.

“You really think you’re the only one playing that game?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “A handyman?”

I stayed standing for a moment, studying her. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. “I run a legitimate business,” I replied evenly. “Fix sinks. Hang doors. Repair roofs. Gardening, I do loads of gardening”

She smiled at that, slow, knowing. “Of course you do.”

That Porsche outside, the one thats gleaming under the streetlight. "Haven’t you asked yourself why that isn't a Mazda" The truth hung between us like a drawn curtain.

So the Porsche was hers.

“He paid well,” she continued. “Very well. But not just for two months of childcare.” Her fingers traced the seam of the sofa cushion, absentmindedly. “People with money like that… they don’t always want receipts. They want discretion.”

“And you provided it?”

“I provided whatever was necessary.”

There was no embarrassment in her voice. No shame. Just calculation.

“And now?” I asked.

“Now I’m curious.” She leaned back slightly. “Two people in the same city, running parallel stories. You with a front business. Extra income. Quiet arrangements. A handyman doesn't live here on a handyman's wage alone” Her gaze sharpened. “That’s either coincidence… or opportunity.”

I finally crossed the room and took the chair opposite her instead of the sofa. Close enough to show interest. Far enough to keep control.

“Opportunity for what?”

She held my stare for a long beat.

“Partnership,” she said softly. “Or leverage. I haven’t decided yet.”

The silence that followed wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t playful. It was strategic.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t about seduction.

It was about power.

I let out a quiet breath through my nose. “Leverage,” I repeated. “That sounds like a threat.”

Rey’s lips curved faintly. “If I were threatening you, you’d know.”

“You just told me you think my business is a front.”

“I said I *know* you do more than fix boilers.” She adjusted her posture, composed and unhurried. “Relax. I’m not here to ruin you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because ive heard about you, ive checked you out, asked around, it's all a secret and I had to dig hard plus I’m tired of working alone. I need someone who understands”

That landed differently.

I leaned back in the chair, studying her more carefully now. “You made good money in two months. Why not enjoy it? Porsche, freedom, no strings.”

She laughed softly. “You think that was a fairy tale? Two months and done?” She shook her head. “That world doesn’t let you just walk away. Not without either protection… or leverage of your own. Two months money doesn't make a lifetime"

“And you think I’m protection?”

“I think,” she said carefully, “you’re connected. You have clients who don’t ask questions. You move through spaces most people can’t. And you’re careful.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Careful people survive. I want to partner with who can help me survive"

I didn’t answer.

She continued. “I don’t want drama. I don’t want anything reckless. I want structure. Clean channels. Clear boundaries. If I introduce someone, you handle logistics. If you need access somewhere discreet, I handle the social side.”

“You’re assuming I’d agree.”

“You’re still sitting here,” she replied smoothly.

That was fair.

“What happens when one of your ‘introductions’ gets messy?” I asked. “When someone talks too much?”

Her expression cooled. “Then we never worked together.”

“And the Porsche?”

She smiled again. “Already in someone else’s name.”

Prepared.

“You planned this conversation,” I said.

“Of course I did. But after i'd watched you. Before I'd worked all this out I'd already messaged you for a meet, I just never followed it through once I worked out this party was on, the photo I sent to your phone, the number was the give away……check mine out, I tried to book you”

I stood this time, not to leave, just to shift the balance and open another bottle. She followed my movement with her eyes but didn’t flinch.

“You understand,” I said evenly, “that if this goes wrong, it doesn’t just cost money.”

“I know exactly what it costs.”

The room fell quiet again.

Finally, I asked, “What do you want right now?”

“Sex, I need real sex, I don’t get that, I need to feel genuine, alive, I want to cum with somebody thats skilled and I hear you're highly skilled, then…..afterwards I need clarity, a release will give clarity,” she said. “Are you a man who fixes doors… or a man who knows how to open them?”

Rey stood slowly, closing the distance she’d maintained all evening. Close enough now that I could feel the warmth of her, the faint trace of her perfume, something subtle, expensive, deliberate.

“You never answered my question,” she murmured.

“Maybe I don’t need to,” I replied.

Her hand came to rest lightly against my chest, not pushing, not pulling, just there. Testing. Measuring. My hand found her waist almost instinctively, steadying her, or maybe himself.

“This makes things complicated,” I said quietly.

A small smile ghosted across her lips. “It was always going to be complicated.”

For a moment neither of us moved. The tension that had been sharp and strategic shifted, softened, not disappearing, just transforming into something more charged.

She rose slightly onto her toes her heels scraping slightly.

I met her halfway.

The kiss wasn’t reckless. It wasn’t desperate. It was controlled at first, exploratory, like the rest of our conversation. But the restraint we'd held onto all evening began to slip. My hand tightened at her waist; hers slid from my chest to the back of my neck, fingers threading lightly into my hair.

When we broke apart, foreheads rested together.

“Partnerships,” she whispered, “require trust.”

“And trust,” I replied, voice lower now, “requires leverage.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Then maybe,” she said softly, “we stop negotiating for one night.”

Another kiss, deeper this time, less guarded.

The balance of power was shifting again, no longer just about strategy, but about who would lose control first.

Rey’s voice softens, but her eyes stay locked on mine.

“Before we go any further,” she says, “I need to ask something.”

I pause. “Yeah?”

“Protected or unprotected?” There’s nothing coy about it, she said it like someone who’s learned not to leave important things to the heat of the moment.

I blink, caught slightly off guard by how direct she is.

“I’ve got the implant,” she added calmly. “So pregnancy isn’t the concern.” Her gaze sharpens slightly. “But that’s not the only thing that matters.”

I nod slowly, the reality of it cutting clean through the tension.

Then she asks, “Have you been tested?”

The question lands heavier than I expect.

Rey watches my face carefully as she continues, matter-of-fact. “I have. The last time, a condom split. I didn’t take chances after that.”

The room goes quiet again, but not awkward. Just real.

She steps closer, fingertips brushing my jaw.

“I want to go unprotected,” she says softly. “But only if you can look me in the eye and tell me you’re safe.”

Her gaze holds mine, unblinking.

“No games,” she murmurs. “Not with this, not us, trust from the start.”

I hold her gaze and don’t look away.

“I’m clean, Tested. Recently. I don’t take risks like that.” My voice is steady because it’s the truth. “If we do this, it’s because we both know where we stand.”

Rey studies me for a long moment, searching for hesitation, for cracks.

Then she nods slightly.

“That’s good,” she says quietly. “Because the last time I trusted someone else to be careful… it cost me.”

Her expression shifts, not vulnerable exactly, but harder around the edges.

“He got me pregnant,” she says. No drama in it. Just fact.

The words settle between us.

“That’s why I tested, he told me he had had a vasectomy. He’d lied. not just for the obvious reasons. I needed to know everything.” She exhales slowly. “For me to do what I did for him… he paid a literal fortune.”

There’s no pride in her voice. No shame either. Just clarity.

“It wasn’t an accident,” she adds. “Nothing about that arrangement was accidental. But I made sure I walked away in control.”

I absorb that, the weight of it. The implication. The cost.

“And now?” I ask quietly.

“Now,” she says, stepping closer again, fingers resting lightly at my collar, “I don’t make moves unless I know I’m safe.”

Her eyes lock onto mine again.

“With you,” she finishes softly, “I want it to be a choice. Not a gamble.”

The tension wasn’t reckless anymore. It was deliberate. Adult. Charged, but grounded in what’s already been said.

Outside, the world keeps moving.

Inside, we were standing close enough to feel each other breathe, not rushing, just deciding.

We both lent in and made out for the first time, Rey slipping her hand down for the first time to my crotch, Rey let out the slightest of whimper into my mouth as she gripped me lightly through my shorts.

All of a sudden Rey seems so vulnerable. I eased away, my arm still around her waist. Her lips looked luscious, full slightly swollen. Her eyes full of desire a channel of hurt lurking beneath.

I kept one arm around her waist the other dropping onto her wrist, feeling the quick pulse beneath my fingers.

She was breathing differently now. Not calculated. Not composed.

Real.

Her eyes move over my face and for the first time tonight there is something there that is not strategy.

It is uncertainty.

“I need to tell you something,” she says quietly.

I do not let go of her. “Then tell me.”

She hesitates and that alone shifts the air between us.

“I am not as experienced as you probably think.” Her voice lowers. “Not like this. Not when it is not arranged.”

I study her carefully. “Arranged?”

“With him, it was controlled. Structured. Expectations laid out. I did what I had to. I learned what I needed to.”

“He paid me initially to suck him off in a morning, I always spat into a towel, he offered me increasing sums as the day wore on for me to allow him to fuck me, I waited, just seeing my dreams come true as my true value was realised”

Her gaze lifts back to mine, vulnerable but steady.

“But this,” she whispers, “I do not actually know what I am doing when it is real. Once he’d reach what I thought I was worth I just allowed him to clumsily fumble then have me, I just lay counting the tiles on the ceiling”

There was no coyness in it. No performance. The confident lady of the last few days sunk back to a girl.

Just honesty.

“You do not have to tell me,” I say.

Her fingers curl into my shirt again, but this time it feels different. Less commanding. More instinctive.

“I might need teaching,” she says softly. “Showing.”

The word settles between us.

Not naive.

Not pretending.

Curious.

I lift my hand to her chin gently, guiding her eyes back to mine.

“You want me to show you?” I ask.

She nods, barely. “Yes.”

There is trust in that.

My thumb brushes slowly across her lower lip. She inhales sharply but does not pull away.

“First thing,” I murmur, my voice steady, “you do not rush.”

I kiss her again, slower this time. Intentional. Letting the moment build instead of taking it. My hand slides to her waist, firm but not demanding. Letting her feel me there. Solid. Present.

She presses closer, breath deepening.

“You feel that?” I whisper against her mouth.

She nods faintly.

“That is where you stay. In the moment. Not thinking about what you are supposed to do.”

Her hands move up my chest cautiously now, exploring instead of directing. Testing.

“And if I get it wrong?” she asks softly.

“There is no wrong,” I tell her. “There is only what you want and what you do not.”

I guide her hand slowly, deliberately, showing her pace. Where to linger. Where to pause. Teaching her without words.

Her breathing stutters again, not from confusion but from sensation.

She looks up at me, eyes darker now, less guarded.

“Show me,” she whispers.

This time when I kiss her it is slower, deeper, built on the trust she just handed me. No games. No transaction.

Just heat building steadily between us as I take my time and let her learn every second of it.

Her hands are still on my chest when I slide mine down to the hem of her dress.

I do not rush.

I look at her first.

“Still want me to show you?” I ask quietly.

Her breath is uneven now, but her eyes are steady. She nods.

“Yes.”

That is all I needed.

My fingers brush lightly along the silk fabric at her waist, giving her time to change her mind. She does not. Instead she lifts her arms slowly, watching me the entire time, as if the act of letting me undress her is part of the lesson.

I peel the fabric upward inch by inch.

The reveal is unhurried. Deliberate.

Her skin catches the low light from the lamp across the room, warm and smooth. She shivers slightly, not from cold but from being seen.

I let the dress fall aside without breaking eye contact.

“You do not hide,” I murmur. “You let yourself be looked at.”

Her lips part at that. There is vulnerability in standing there, exposed under my gaze, but there is power too. She straightens slightly instead of shrinking.

“Like this?” she asks softly.

“Exactly like that.”

I step closer and let my fingertips trace slowly from her shoulder down her arm. Light. Exploratory. Teaching her the pace. Teaching her that anticipation can feel better than urgency.

Her hands move to my shirt, slower now, mimicking the patience I am showing her. She fumbles slightly and lets out a quiet breath of frustration. She pushes it from my shoulders then up over my head.

I catch her hand gently.

“No rush,” I remind her.

I guide her fingers, to the band of my shorts. The button gives way slowly, revealing skin beneath, the same deliberate exchange she just offered me.

When my shorts fall, she looks at me the way I looked at her. Curious. Focused. Learning. She looks at my rigid mass.

“That’s it,” I say softly. “Stay with it.”

My hands return to her, sliding down her sides with measured pressure, feeling the warmth of her body beneath my palms. I lean in and kiss her again, slower than before, deeper but still controlled. Letting the heat build instead of explode.

She presses closer, her confidence growing with every second.

“You are not inexperienced,” I whisper against her mouth. “You just have not been allowed to take your time.”

I reach around and unclasp her bra, it falls away revealing enhanced breasts. They sit high in her chest. Both nipples standing proud. Both nipples pierced.

“He paid for these as well, he doesn’t know just like he doesn’t know about my apartment or my car”

I graze my thumbs over them simultaneously. Her breath catches at that.

I step back just enough to look at her again, letting the tension stretch between us as my hands drift lower, pausing at her hips.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say quietly.

She shakes her head.

“I do not.”

And the space between us feels electric, charged not by haste but by the slow, deliberate surrender of layers and the trust that comes with it.

I take my time with her, slow and careful, her bra gone she is standing there in nothing but black heels, a black silk thong, and her hold ups.

The sight of her hits me hard, not because it is crude, but because it is deliberate.

Because she is letting me see her.

Rey shifts her weight slightly, the movement subtle, but it makes the silk thong the light. The hold ups frame her legs like she chose them for this exact moment, even if she is pretending she did not.

Her cheeks are flushed now, her lips parted, her breathing shallow.

She looks up at me, searching my face again.

“Is this what you meant?” she asks quietly. “Not hiding.”

I step closer, slow enough that she can feel every second of it.

“Yes,” I murmur. “Exactly.”

My hands settle at her hips, warm and steady, thumbs brushing the line where silk meets skin. She shivers, and I feel it travel through her like a confession.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, simple and honest.

Rey swallows, her eyes flicking away for half a second, then returning.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits again, softer now. “Not like this. I was always forced, paid for”

I tilt my head slightly, letting my gaze move over her in a way that is appreciative, not greedy.

“You don’t do anything,” I say. “You let yourself be wanted.”

That makes her inhale sharply, like the words land lower than my hands ever could.

She steps closer, closing the last inch between us, and her fingers find me, tentative at first, then more certain.

I catch her wrist again, gently.

“Slow,” I remind her.

Rey’s eyes darken at that. She nods.

And when I kiss her again, it is deep and unhurried, my hands holding her like she is something precious, something I have no intention of rushing.

The heels keep her poised.

The silk keeps her dangerous.

And the way she clings to me, learning, listening, trusting, makes the whole thing feel like a slow burn I could let run all night.

Me now naked before her, a goblet of precum sits at the tip of my cock. Rey slides the tip of her index finger around then through it. She looks me in the eye and lifting her finger tastes it. Her eyes widen then she sucks her finger. She smiled as she did so.

I then step back just enough to look at her again.

Hold ups. Black silk thong, cut high over her hips. Heels that keep her tall, back arched and poised even as her breathing gives her away.

She looks powerful, yet highly uncertain.

That combination is intoxicating.

My hands slide from her hips, slowly tracing upward along her waist, across bare skin, memorising the shape of her. She inhales when my palms settle at her ribs, not gripping, just holding her there like I am steadying something fragile and fierce at the same time.

“You’re shaking,” I murmur.

“A little, I’m screaming inside” she admits.

“Good,” I say softly. “That means you’re feeling it.”

Her fingers return to my cock, slower this time, watching my face for permission instead of asking for it out loud. I nod once.

She clasps it carefully. The sound of wetness sliding free feels louder than it should in the quiet room. Her knuckles brush my stomach as she works, tentative but growing bolder when I do not stop her.

“That’s it,” I tell her quietly. “Take your time.”

She pushes my skin fully from my tip. Her other palm explore my chest then my nipple now with more confidence, learning the terrain the same way I did hers. Curious. Focused.

When she looks up at me again, there is less doubt in her eyes.

I step forward and guide her backward until the sofa presses against the backs of her thighs. I do not push her down. I just let her feel it there.

My fingers hook gently into the sides of her thong, not pulling yet. Just resting there. Letting anticipation stretch.

Her breath catches.

“You don’t rush the best part,” I remind her.

Slowly, deliberately, I slide the silk down her hips, over the curve of her thighs a string of arousal spans the lowering silk to her labia. Rey is clearly aroused. The fabric glides against her skin, down past the hold ups, until it pools around her heels, the gusset is heavy with a thick wet pool. She steps out of them without breaking eye contact however with a glance she sees the mess she’s poured into her panties.

Now it is just heels and stockings and bare skin.

Rey isn’t wet, she’s drenched, drenched in the product of her own deep arousal.

For a moment we just stand there.

Almost Bare.

Close enough that every breath brushes skin.

No performance now.

No power play.

Just heat and trust and the quiet understanding that this is a choice.

I cup her face and kiss her again, deeper than before, hands sliding along her back as hers move over me without hesitation. When I lift her, it is unhurried, deliberate, carrying her down onto the sofa like something precious rather than something claimed.

The room feels smaller.

The world outside feels far away.

And just as the tension peaks, just as skin meets skin and restraint finally starts to unravel, everything narrows to breath and touch and the low sound of her whispering my name, Rey kicks her heels off them falling to the deck with a clatter. i slide one then two stocking off, Rey now as naked as myself.

I lay next to her, our lips meeting, first a kiss then a deep sensual make out Rey placing a heel on the back of the sofa so that she was spread for me. Spread wide.

I ease my had down slowly. Run it over her smooth mound then down to her wetness. Rey gasps as i slip a finger inside her. Rey gasps into my mouth as I graze her clit with my palm.

Rey has me in her hand, she worked me slowly, her touch deft, delicate excruciatingly arousing. Finding her clit with my moistened finger I circled it again. Rey moaned out biting her lower lip to stifle it.

“Let it go” I whispered as I applied a little more pressure to it. Rey did so he moans alternating to whimpers.

“Can we go to bed please?” Rey whispered

I eased my finger away from her, Rey releasing me. I stood and taking her hand led her through the bar and down to the master suite. The bed was freshly made the mirrors all on display. First I knelt then laid down on the bed, Rey stood. “I’m just going to use the bathroom” as she moved by the foot of the bed. Rey finished rejoined me and we took up where we left off.

“I’d like to suck you” Rey moaned out.