Page 19 of The Pleasure Contract

And then, holding that gaze of his, she angled herself forward and sucked him deep into her mouth.

Lachlan settled back, his eyes fierce and his magnificent body lazy. Telling her without words that this was going to take a long time.

A long, long time.

Bristol settled in and lost herself in the rhythm of it. The taste of him. He was hot and tasted male, so raw and primal it made her mouth water all the more.

She tested her own reflexes, seeing how far she could take him into her mouth and flirting with the back of her throat. Every groan he let out felt like a victory and made her ache. Her nipples were so tight they stung. Her pussy was wet and needy.

But she concentrated on the long retreat, the deep swallow. She licked her way up one side of his shaft, then down the other. She teased the wide head of his cock, sucking on it until he muttered something beneath his breath.

He wrapped his hand in her hair and took control, gently fucking her face, and that was even better.

For an endless while, she felt stretched out between the wildfire ache in her pussy and the sheer, fierce joy of taking his cock exactly the way he gave it to her. The thrust, the repeat, until she could feel moisture at the corners of her eyes from the sheer joy of it.

And when he finally came, pouring himself down her throat, the way he groaned made her clit throb.

So hard she almost came.

And in case she’d forgotten that this was a punishment for her tardiness, he did not do a single thing to ease the need she was sure was written all over her. She could hear her own breathing come perilously close to panting. She thought that she might even be able to smell her own arousal.

It only made her hunger that much sharper.

Lachlan gazed at her impassively, though his blue eyes glittered. He tucked his cock back into his trousers and zipped up, then lounged there looking faintly disheveled and with the hint of a smirk on his face.

Leaving Bristol with nothing to do but climb back into her seat.

And question, again, why she wasn’t outraged. Why, instead, she felt as if this show of his, his seeming indifference with that hint of amusement at her plight, made her shiver ever closer to simply...coming, there and then.

All she would have to do was press her thighs together—but she didn’t.

Because,she admitted to herself,you want your orgasms to be his.

Because he’d paid for them.

A notion that only there, in the dark of the car with the taste of him in her mouth, could she accept made it all so much hotter.

She had the feeling he knew it.

Back at the hotel, Bristol was left to her own frustrated devices as Lachlan was corralled by his people, then disappeared into the penthouse suite’s offices for some or other important phone call.

She waited for him to come back out, but he didn’t. It took her longer than it should have to understand that he wasn’t going to.

Thathehad likely stepped into that office and forgotten all about her.

And she didn’t want to have any more conversations with Stephanie—or any other assistant lurking about—so she took herself off to the expansive bedroom, the bed itself about twice the size of the apartment she shared with her sister. And that wasn’t addressing the terraces all around with stunning views over London.

Her body was still flooded with hunger and adrenaline, her pussy still ached, but now there was something hollow inside her, besides.

Bristol didn’t want to deal with that either, so she made a production out of bustling around and getting out of the outfit that had been laid out for the evening’s festivities. Then she took herself into the shower stall that was the size of her neighborhood coffee shop and busied herself with the four hundred showerheads and bath products arrayed along one stone wall.

But there was only so much bustling and lathering a person could do. Soon enough she was simply standing there in a decidedly opulent shower stall in England, finally coming face-to-face not only with what had happened in his car tonight—but what she’d signed up for in the first place.

Not that he’d bought her. Not even the fact she liked that part of it, and the idea that her pussy itself was on loan.

How had she not understood the rest of it? She knew the answer to that. The last fifteen days had been a cascade of sensory input, disbelief that she was doing this in the first place, and the strangely formal practicalities of arranging a life around sex with a very busy man.

But tonight, at last, she fully understood why it was that Lachlan hired women to fill this position. Because a real girlfriend would react to what had happened tonight—that he could act as he had in the car and then ignore her when they got back to the hotel. A real girlfriend would lean into that hollow feeling inside and take it out on him.