Professional Engagement Ch. 04

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

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I walked swiftly back toward my house, Van's footsteps sounding behind me. I knew if I turned he'd be watching my long legs cover the ground. He'd probably be thinking about how we just did it in the forest, mere feet away from the gathered neighborhood. I know I was thinking it. Every time my thoughts strayed to how it felt having him inside me, I melted a little and had to remind myself the asshole hadn't even let me cum. It wasn't hard to remember since I was still completely keyed up and as horny as I'd ever been in my life.

I stopped on the porch and let Van catch up to me. No matter how mad at him I was, I had to admit he looked good enough to eat, with those broad shoulders and tapering hips. I got a sudden mental image of licking my way down his cut lines to end at his impressive dick. Hmm. Shooting him a small smile, I opened my front door in invitation and he stepped inside. The room was dark and cool so I opened the front curtains, letting some light fall across my living space, trying to see it through his eyes. Yeah, it probably did look like the home of a perennially single woman. I was pretty sure I had a romance novel out on the coffee table. I glanced over - yep, there were two. He didn't seem to notice though, his eyes were still glued to me. I was startled to see his confidence melt into something more like diffidence. Was that an apology in his gaze?

"So Van," I started, motioning him through to the kitchen. "Have a seat and tell me about yourself." I'd startled him; good. Maybe if I kept him off balance, my plan would work.

"Not much to tell, Isabella." I did love to hear my name on his tongue. Van's hazel eyes, fringed with long lashes, met mine as I took a seat across from him at the kitchen table. "I'm a sculptor, moderately successful at selling my work. When I get bored with my solitary life, I take assignations with the company through which you met me. It's easier than conventional dating. You know exactly what's required - with a little leeway for creativity - and you offer it." He stopped to think it over. Nodded. Sparse but adequate.

"An artist, huh?" We launched into a conversation about his work, and I could see Van relaxing. He was surprisingly easy to talk to. It wouldn't be hard to lose hours like this, just getting to know each other. However, I had a plan to execute and couldn't let myself be charmed.

"I know the pasta salad I brought to the barbecue is gone by now," I told him. "Lucky for you, I kept some aside for later. Would you like some?" He readily assented and I served him up a plate. "Anyway, while you're eating, I'm going to go clean up a bit. You left me... kind of sloppy." I slanted him a forgiving smile... he must be lulled. Van's answering grin did bad things to me and I slipped toward the bedroom, more resolute than ever.

In the bedroom I checked myself in the mirror, reliving my first encounter with Van. I looked flushed with arousal, my nipples poking at the silky fabric of my yellow dress. I could hardly meet my own eyes in the mirror. Lucky we hadn't returned to the barbecue to broadcast my sexual need to Janice et al. I discarded my soaked panties. My fingers found my nipples and gave them a quick caress, imagining Van's hands on me again. It would be all too easy to fall for this guy, I realized suddenly. I'd have to be careful with my feelings. From what he told me, he wasn't looking for anything long term in any case. Way to go, Isabella. Pushing aside these thoughts, I went over to the bedside bureau and retrieved my handcuffs. Don't ask; I just happened to have a lot of kinky toys on hand. It was in the nature of a "just in case." I decided to stay in the moment and get my own back. Later I could parse out everything that happened between us and try to understand it. For now, orgasm was the one and only priority.

I ran a brush through my disheveled hair. It looked a little less just-fucked than before, but not by much. Oh well, good enough. My face was flushed enough that any makeup would simply detract. I smiled at myself, my grin sharp and predatory. Van, my guy, you have no idea what's coming for you. With measured steps, I reentered the kitchen, handcuffs in one hand, concealed by the folds of my dress.

Van looked up from a nearly empty plate. "I took seconds," he admitted. The implied compliment to my cooking almost made me blush and I ruthlessly stomped down any such schoolgirl tendencies. Van really did bring out something strange in me. I'd never been a helpless ditherer who melted at compliments. I sidled up to him and locked the handcuffs onto the arm of the chair, disguising the click by moving silverware with my other hand. Van paid no notice. He seemed to be leaning in to inhale deeply. Ok buddy. "I'll take your plate, if you're done." I rinsed it in the sink and turned to meet his look. For a few seconds our stares locked and I could practically feel the heat building anew between us.

Conscious of the sway of my hips and the slight uptick in my breathing and his, I crossed the room deliberately, stopping mere inches from where he sat. If Van stood now, my plan was wrecked. I leaned in, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of my cleavage. That should keep him in the chair for the moment. At this point we'd been gone way too long from the barbecue, but Janice could think what she liked. Nothing was getting in the way of my imminent pleasure.

"Isabella, we need to talk," Van started, obviously tamping down on his attraction in favor of the mundane. A poorly chosen moment, I thought, although I agreed with the sentiment. At some point we'd need to explore whatever this was between us in a verbal and non physical way.

"We do? We have to talk?" I moved in and straddled his lap, telegraphing my continued interest loud and clear. Van was lulled alright. His eyes widened and moved to my lips. His quick intake of breath could not be missed. "Hands where they are," I told him, giving him a minute to figure out what was going on, and an out if he really wanted one. I watched Van swallow, his adam's apple bobbing slightly. Nerves? Arousal? I had a lot to learn about him still. In the next moment I moved quickly, scooping up the dangling cuff and snapping it around his wrist. "You see where this is going." I told him, letting a quick, predatory smile sweep across my lips. Fitting my thighs against his body, I was rewarded by the feeling of Van's erection, hot and hard through his shorts.

"I... ok."

Without breaking eye contact, I moved my weight to one hand, unzipping Van's shorts and freeing his sizeable dick. It was already diamond hard, and I let a slight laugh escape me as a traced a finger from tip to balls. Van shuddered. His arms flexed, but he stayed in place. We both acknowledged the chair and cuffs wouldn't hold him if he really wanted to leave. This was about how he denied me earlier. We'd play it out, tit for tat. My dress rode up a little and Van let out a hum of surprise and satisfaction as my panty free state became apparent. I began to move.

One thing that's always really done it for me in the bedroom (or when I'm watching porn) is seeing a wet pussy slide along a cock without any penetration. I let Van's dick lie against his hard torso and rocked up along it. I was so wet, the friction was minimal but delicious. I could see my puffy lips parting wetly along the ridge of his cock, watch them seem to swallow the head, massaging with delicate force. Over and over. For a few moments I watched myself move, controlling my pleasure and his. Van's eyelids shuttered and his head tilted to meet the solid oak of the chair back. With the flared head of his dick brushing against my clit on each pass, my arousal built like wildfire. It only took a few minutes of this before I was ready to cum. After all, I was still worked up from earlier. I let the straps of my yellow sundress fall, revealing my breasts, and leaned in. Van would know what to do.

And he did. With an expert tongue, he painted wet heat across my aching nipples. As I continued to move I felt a hint of teeth and the sensation, the briefest moment of pain, pushed me over into my release. Hands clenching his shoulders, I rode it out, making what under other circumstances would have been embarrassingly helpless noises. A whimper, a drawn out moan. Pleasure rocked through my body in little shocks as I leaned into the man I held beneath me. The last wave was fading when he turned his head and spoke.

"Isabella. Let me go." I shook my head a little to clear it. "The key."

"In my pocket. Hang on," I told him as I disentangled and stood on slightly shaky legs. I decided to treat him to a bit of a show and let the dress slide all the way off as I searched for the key. Van growled - actually growled! at my nakedness and at my slow fumbling for the pocket.

"I don't want to have to break your chair..." he told me, sizing up the spot where his wrist was restrained. A moment later I was beside him, sliding the key home and releasing his wrist. With a look of barely restrained lust that scalded me from my toes to the tips of my breasts, Van stood and took my hand. I followed meekly behind him as he led me to the bedroom. Of course he knew where it was, the stalker creep. I couldn't be mad, couldn't even pretend. My whole body was alight with anticipation for what would come next.

Van gave me a light push toward the bed and watched me go. He began to strip his clothes off with singleminded efficiency. Shirt, belt, shorts and shoes joined a pile on the floor, and then he was gloriously nude. I leaned back against the pillow to take it all in. He was just as cut as I'd imagined, with a light dusting of hair in all the right places. The mirror showed me the curves of his toned ass and muscled back. The front view gave me a full look at his very erect cock. I wondered inconsequentially if it was painful to be that hard. Van was 100% ready to go too.

"I can't... let's just - and afterwards - we'll talk," he told me unevenly, closing the space between us with raw sexual intent.

"Come here," I said, my shallow breaths echoing his. Van positioned himself over my waiting body and sank to the hilt with a groan. "Just as good as - an hour ago," he ground out, punctuating his words with deep slow thrusts. I widened my legs to give him better access and he took it, quickening his strokes to a tantalizing tempo. I wanted more, and shifted up toward him, meeting his thrusts and grinding my pelvis against his. My clit was loving this. He moved and I moved with him, our rhythm a seamless, swift motion toward mutual completion.

It wouldn't be long for either of us, I thought. I lay back and let my hands roam, nails scraping lightly over his back, then moving down to cup Van's ass, where it flexed in time with his thrusts. I pulled him hard against me and he took the hint, moving deep. When I wrapped my legs around his waist, I knew it was almost over.

"Inside me, Van," I managed, and his name on my lips was all the catalyst he needed. Van sped up again and the motion rocked through me where we were locked together. This one would be explosive too. I felt it begin, burning through me in quick, exquisite contractions. Van swore and let my body direct his as my pussy milked him for all it was worth. A moment later I felt him come inside me, molten release on a curse and a groan.

Van pushed up and slowly withdrew, mindful that he was still mostly hard, staying gentle. My eyes closed and tears prickled behind my lids as little aftershocks of pleasure moved through me. What was next for us? Could I have such superb sex and then just let him go? Our attraction was next level. Our physical connection too - but by his own admission, Van liked to keep things simple. I felt a kiss brush my cheek and then he rolled off me, still panting from our mindblowing encounter. Or at least it was for me... I needed to stop thinking. I was exhausted anyway. Shooting a sidelong glance at Van, he looked to be drowsing, eyes half lidded, a satiated look on his face. I slipped out of bed and felt his still warm cum drip down my thigh. A sudden urge to taste it made me chuckle wryly to myself. I had it bad.

By the time I returned from cleaning myself up, Van was asleep, snoring lightly. So much for talking.