Tag Archives: Pleasure Incorporated

Pleasure Incorporated: Pamela and the Plumber The Climax

Here it is: short but oh, so sweet. The Climax to Pamela and the Plumber!

If you haven’t read Part One… start here first!

Ready for Part Two… click here!

DISCLAIMER:  Just a reminder, this is raw, uncensored, unedited first draft stuff. All mistakes are my own and hopefully you won’t notice too many of them, lol. 😉

Rick lifted me off the vanity, and I stalked forward, crawling along the chair on all fours and wrapped my lips around the tip of Paul’s cock, my hand taking over where his left off.

Some girls didn’t like giving blow jobs. I could never understand why. The sound of a man’s breath hitching, the feel of their thigh muscles twitching, their hand gripping your hair… what the hell wasn’t there to love?

Rick slipped in behind me and grabbed my ass, hitching my pussy into his face. A deep vibration escaped my mouth, wrapping around and caressing Paul as Rick’s tongue stroked my clit.

Jesus fucking Christ. Everything blurred into a kaleidoscope of sensation. My mouth pumping, swallowing every rigid inch, Paul’s hands kneading my breasts, flicking and pinching my nipples, Rick’s tongue lapping at my center, his fingers slipping in and out.

Hands and mouths molded and sculpted, creating a tower of ecstasy, lifting me to the heights of passion, coiling in my spine, rocketing me to a precipice I didn’t know existed.

Rick sucked hard on my clit, and I gasped, taking Paul deeper. The heady combination sent me careening over the edge, taking me on a leap of faith, leaving me adrift in hazy euphoria, as my body pulsed with endless spasms.

From some far-flung distance, I was vaguely aware that my plumbers had switched positions, and Paul pressed the tip of his cock inside me. I moaned as sensitive flesh stretched to accommodate him. I fisted Rick’s shaft and pulled hard with my lips, milking and stroking, growling with urgency. A primal need to devour and conquer seized me. I wanted to make them cum. I wanted them to shatter inside me.

Paul drew me back, a slow torture, a cruel ploy, and I pressed my ass against him, desperate. I wanted his cock filling me, bursting me open. He met my push with a driving thrust, causing pinpricks of light to flit across my vision as an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain coiled deep inside my pussy.

A battery of new sensations churned and boiled like an alchemist’s solution, turning my body into an ecstatic frenzy of desire and need. My mouth and hand met, over and over, sucking and pulling Rick deep into my throat, urged on by feral grunts and the rapid pulse of his breath.

Paul matched the desperate rhythm of my efforts with hard violent strokes of his own, expanding and spreading me completely,

Then, as if they were master play-makers, and the coach had given them the go ahead for their signature knock-out punch, Rick squeezed my nipples while Paul reached around and slam-dunked my clit like a goddamn rock star.

I cried out as Rick pumped his cock, gasping as he came, covering my chest with the strength of his climax. My body disintegrated, each part exploding in a blinding onslaught of light, over, and over, and over again. The orgasm ripped through me and kept me captive as Paul stiffened, his body caught in the throes of his own release as he twitched and softened within me.

When I came back to my senses, the three of us lay in a convoluted heap on the lounge chair.

Paul kissed my belly button, running his fingernails along the insides of my thighs while Rick nibbled on the curve of my neck, his stubble sending shivers racing along my skin.

“I think you passed,” I said to Paul, my body limpid and flushed with a languid glow.

Paul nipped at my hip. “That was just the preliminaries.”

Looking for more HOT stuff? Check out Stephanie and Stephan’s steamy story! Here’s Part One to get you started. 

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Pleasure Incorporated: Pamela and the Plumber Part One

Pamela and the Plumber

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft stuff. 😀 Enjoy!

Mrs. Murphy handed me the envelope. The package lacked panache. Just a plain white #10, 20lb, standard, letter-sized utilitarian vessel. One would think for a clandestine hookup, it should have been black, or slipped to me under a magazine or something.

“Thanks,” I said, tucking it in my briefcase.

“Enjoy your encounter, Pamela.” Mrs. Murphy stood, her tailored pant suit wrinkled along her thighs from sitting.

I shook her hand and left the office. As I rode the elevator to the lobby, I wondered where Pleasure Incorporated found their ‘personal attendants.’ My criteria was very specific. I wanted a blue collar guy, clean, neat, with a solid bank of muscles, and actual hair on his chest. None of this waxed pecs shit. I wanted a plumber, or at least some guy to play the part of a plumber. Perhaps, it harkened back to my days playing Luigi to my older brother’s Mario, but I had a thing for a descent ass crack. When I was about seven years old, I walked into the kitchen one morning, still in my Hello Kitty pyjamas, to discover my mom leaning against the kitchen counter puffing away on a cigarette.

Our neighbor Thomas O’Malley had his head buried under our sink, his ass presented for all to see. At the time, I didn’t understand what I had walked in on, but I could sense the electricity in the air. In a cut-off tube top and tight jeans, my mom giggled and tossed her hair. Rarely up before noon, she even had on her heels—in the kitchen, at breakfast!

I blame my childhood for my obsession with plumbers and construction workers… frankly, anyone willing to drop to their knees and get dirty.

I hadn’t been able to find a spot right outside the building and had to park in the grocery store lot across the street. I swung into the driver’s seat, tossed my briefcase onto the passenger side, and pulled out the envelope.

I skimmed for the pertinent details: the Gladrock Hotel, Aqua Suite, 7pm. The room was ready immediately, and tomorrow morning a spa appointment had been arranged as requested. Thankfully, there wasn’t any information about my special guest for the evening. I had asked them to withhold a photo. I wanted the surprise. I grew bored easily and needed the excitement and rush of new experiences. I tucked the envelope away. This was going to be fun.

Of Pleasure Inc.’s ability to fulfill my fantasies, I had no doubt. How they planned on going about them created delicious anticipation and tension. I shifted in my leather seat. My body perked up, roused and ready to play.

The Gladrock stood on a prominent crossroads in the city, its front door almost colliding with the sidewalk. The lobby paired a sleek, curved walnut check-in area with oil paintings hung around graffiti inspired walls.

With my arrival expected, I checked in and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, room key in hand. I’d never stayed in the hotel before. The owners held events every night, and each room had its own theme. Given my plans, I would miss tonight’s Burlesque show, where they teach you how to dance. The concierge assured me it would happen again, and I had made a mental note to pop in to that one in the future.

I swiped my key card and stepped into a groovy world of sculptures meant to look like coral, and soft ripples of light undulating across a deep-blue tiled floor. I dropped the card key on a side table and left my luggage at the door.

Tucked off the left side of the main entrance, a plush white loveseat and two matching arm chairs reclined around an inviting living area. I declined the offer and padded into the bedroom.

A low, sleek king-sized bed with a solid black headboard commanded focus. I flopped onto the bed and sunk, half the mattress cresting away from me. I turned and stared in awe. An honest to God waterbed. I hadn’t seen one of those since I was a teenager. I couldn’t believe they still made them. I studied the design and narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine having sex on the thing. Though, perhaps if the rhythm flowed just right. I enjoyed a good challenge.

Curious what wonders awaited me in the bathroom, I rounded a bend at the far end of the room and stopped, slack jawed. Tucked away behind a curved glass block wall, the bathroom stretched behind towering floor to ceiling windows that looked out on to the bustling cityscape beyond, a sleek white lounge chair positioned to take advantage of the view. On the back wall, a waterfall trickled between ledges of glossy black tile, tumbling into an infinity pool. A built-in alcove housed several sconces, their light flickering like candles. I dipped a forefinger into the pool. The water was luxuriously warm. I couldn’t wait to dive in.

A generous stand up shower encased in glass stood opposite the pool, and a toilet and low vanity curved along the block wall. The room exceeded my wildest expectations. I’d asked for water features. This took the cake.

I stripped off and slipped into the pool. Experimenting with several dials, I adjusting the strength and number of jets before I found a setting that would allow me to swim in one place, like a water treadmill. Eager to burn off some restless energy, I spent a good half hour fighting the current with a strong front crawl then hopped into the shower.

I pulled out a matching black lace thong and bra and paired those with a tight LBD. With more time to kill, and deciding I needed a little sustenance to keep up my stamina, I ordered some room service. By the time I’d finished eating, fixed my hair, and applied my makeup, it was 6:59pm.

The knock at the door sent a thrill through me. I liked my men punctual. I swung the door wide, revealing a tall, broad shouldered pillar of testosterone with golden eyes and a cocky grin. He filled out a pair of blue jeans, the buttons of his shirt undone showing off a chiselled chest, dusted with just the right amount of dark curly hair. Off his hips slung a tool belt, and he packed a very large wrench.

READY FOR PART TWO? Click here to keep reading!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Pleasure Incorporated: Stephanie and Stephen The Climax

Week One: Stephanie and Stephen

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft material. Don’t forget to read parts one and two before you delve into the delicious climax. Enjoy the ride. 🙂

The satin duvet was soft and cool beneath me.

“Lift your arms above your head.”

I grabbed hold of the iron headboard. He kissed my shoulder, planting nips and caresses down my arm. Holding my gaze, he slid the handcuff around my wrist. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I had no idea what to expect this evening. Of course, I knew it would involve sex, but this was beyond my wildest imaginings. I couldn’t keep my legs from writhing a little on the bed. My stomach ached with need.

The arm swung closed and clicked. He tightened the metal until it was comfortable, but gave no measure of escape. He slipped the chain around the headboard and clasped my other wrist. The final click shot fire through my body. I inhaled sharply.

He ran his hands along the sides of my body. My eyes rolled back. “Jesus.”

His whispered words near my ear startled me. “It’s Stephen.”

I smirked. “Stephen.”

His cocky grin turned me to putty. “I like how you say that.” He nibbled my ear then reached back and scooped the blindfold off the bed. “One last detail.” The satin string trailed up my belly and between my breasts as he danced it across my skin.

My fists clenched as he lay the blindfold across my eyes.

“Can you see?” he asked, adjusting the tightness of the ties.

“No.”

“Good.” His weight lifted from the bed.

I could hear him rummaging through drawers. Every sense was heightened. The smoothness of the duvet skimmed across my body as I wriggled to try and hear what he was doing. The air from the ceiling fans washed over my skin creating goosebumps, and every cell of my being had been reduced to a quivering mass of need.

“I’m here.” His voice drifted from somewhere near the end of the bed. I jumped when something cold pressed into the sole of my foot.

“That’s freezing.” I squirmed away from the onslaught creeping up my leg.

The advance never wavered, and a hand pinioned my leg. The melting path swooped up the inside of my thigh and curved over the soft mound of hair between my legs.

“You’re so hot, you melted my ice cube.” His voice was sullen, sexy.

My body collapsed after being held rigid by tension.

“Ah, but I have more.” A swirl of ice across my nipple sent the bud into a spasm of constriction, and I bucked to set it free. He straddled my waist. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” He ran the ice cube down the sides of my ribs, and I screamed. The dripping water trickled around my back, and the shock against my blazing skin was torture.

“You are delightfully ticklish.” Blunt fingernails picked up where the ice left off, skimming the indent of my waist. I tried to kick him off.

“Do you want me to stop?” He sounded amused.

“No,” I replied with undignified panting.

His weight shifted and something soft with several tails swept over me. “This is a called a bondage whip.”

“Stephen.” This was quickly going in a direction I wasn’t ready to take it.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

I couldn’t see him, couldn’t read the sincerity in his face, but I sensed it in his voice.

“Open your hand for me.”

It took a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but I did as he asked.

“I’m going to use the whip across your palm. Let me know if it hurts.”

Before I could protest, the whip snapped into my skin. I gasped, and wetness pooled between my legs.

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tease your thighs. Are you ready?”

“Oh fuck.” I resumed my death grip on the headboard.

A slap crackled through the air, heightening my senses, but the impact was delicious. No pain, just skin becoming more alive.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

A series of nips with the whip across my belly and breasts alternated with what felt like feathers. Throughout it all, as each and every inch of my skin screamed with sensation, he avoided the fire burning between my legs.

“Stephen.” I begged. “Please. I can’t take much more.”

“Oh, I think you can hold out a little longer, but I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” Hands splayed my thighs, and his mouth pressed against me.

“You’re so fucking wet. Jesus, you taste divine.” If he was going for subtle, he seemed to lose himself in his task, and he had to hold my hips down because they were going to jerk right off the bed.

“Oh, my God.” I wanted to explode. I barely grasped reality.

“I know, baby, you’re so close. But not yet.” He left the bed, and I could hear another drawer open. Sweat pooled between my breasts, and my hair matted against my forehead. Something wild and primal had taken over, and I wanted to lose myself in its delicious chaos.

“Have you ever played with your G-spot?” he asked.

“I’ve tried, but I’m never sure if I’m doing it right.” This was humiliating.

“I love that blush.” He kissed my lips, and I devoured the silken warmth of him, my tongue lashing out to meet his. I tasted salt and sweetness. I tasted me. I’d never done that before. The thought made me heady.

He pulled away. “You are making this incredibly difficult to go slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” There. I did it. I had been reduced to whining.

He laughed. “After this orgasm, we can ramp up the pace, but this first one has to be perfect. I want you to be putty in my hands.”

More orgasms? Dear God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through this one! I wanted him so badly, I would have done just about anything to quench this suffocating thirst.

“Have you used a vibrator before?” A gentle hum filled my ears.

“Yes.” If he used a vibrator on me, I might literally come undone.

“Good.” He released one of my wrists, but clamped the open jaws around the headboard to keep one hand restrained. He placed the vibrator in my free hand and directed it to my clit. “I want you to hold it there. No matter what you do, do not ease up the tension. Understand?”

I couldn’t speak. I nodded.

“It may feel overwhelming, but don’t stop. Ride it out for me, all right?”

“I’ll try.” It came out as hoarse croak.

His lips caressed mine, and he held my hand against my clit as the vibrator thrummed through me. I didn’t think it was possible for my eyes to roll back any further in my head, but I might have managed.

He slid down my body, and a finger dove deep inside me. I cried out, my back arching.
His movements were slow, deliberate. He was pressing hard against my insides. My body hummed. “Hold on, Stephanie.”

“It’s too much.” I couldn’t take it. There was so much sensation.

His finger coaxed with even pressure and relentless rhythm. The vibrator slipped from my clit. He reached up and helped me find the right spot. “Right there, baby. Keep it there.”

“I can’t.” I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve. My legs shook and spasmed.

“Yes, you can.”

Pressure made my head want to burst. Everything in my being wanted to let go, but I held back. Fear crept in and reared its ugly head.

“It’s just me, Stephanie. Let yourself go. Give in to the feeling.”

I closed my eyes tight and pushed all thought from my mind. I focused on everything my body was telling me. It wanted this. I forced my mind to take a backseat to the wild rollercoaster ride of pleasure. The climax built. My toes curled and tensed. “Stephen.”

“Now. Come for me, now, Stephanie.”

“Oh my God.” A wave of pleasure ripped through me so violently that I screamed and bucked. My eyes clamped tight, and the vibrator slipped from my hand. His mouth crashed into swollen lips and another crest blindsided me, propelling me over a precipice so high I didn’t think I could ever come down. For a moment, he merely caressed my hair.

He removed the blindfold as tremors continued to pulse through me and left the bed, returning a moment later to unclasp my hand. The handcuff slipped from my wrist and I lay there limp, shaking and incoherent. “Stephanie,” he whispered in my ear.

“Mmmhmm?” I was wrapped in a warm honey glow that I never wanted to end.

“Are you ready to do that again?”

I reached out, threaded my hand through his hair, and pulled him into me. “Definitely.”

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Pleasure Incorporated: Stephanie and Stephen Part two

Week One: Stephanie and Stephen

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder, the following is first draft, unedited material. 😀 Enjoy.

Don’t forget to read part one first!

I stopped at the top of the landing. There at the bottom of the steps, with his back toward me was Stephen. His hair hung in soft waves just below his shoulders, and he filled out every inch of the tailored fabric in that black suit. He had his hands in his pant pockets and exuded a casual, sensual confidence. In opposition, my knees knocked. I gripped the railing for support.

He must have heard my awkward descent because he turned around and smiled. I almost ran back into my room and locked the door. No man can be that beautiful. I shouldn’t be here.

He bounded up the stairs, cutting off my escape. “Stephanie.”

The word purled off his tongue and rippled over my skin. I swallowed. “You must be Stephen.”

He lifted my hand to his lips. They were incredibly soft. He must use a lot of Chapstick.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Come.” He held out his arm, and I threaded mine though his. He locked it tight to his side. “They have a sumptuous meal waiting for us in the dining room.”

He led me down a wing off to the left of the lobby, stopping at a beautiful room with a teak dining table, ornamented with fine crystal and china. He held out a chair. “Please.”
I sat down, and he tucked me closer to the table. He lifted an amber bottle from the ice bucket. “Would you like some—”

“Yes.” I finished for him.

He smiled and poured us each a glass before sitting down beside me.

I took a small sip. “Lovely.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“The wine is nice too.” I was going for confident and sexy, but it came out like a croak.

“You’re very beautiful when you blush.”

I covered my face with my hands. He pried them away and held them tight. “I’m looking forward to seeing that happen a lot this evening.”

I may have squeaked.

He laughed, a deep, melted chocolate sound that poured over me, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Didn’t you read up on me?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Oh. I um—” A waiter interrupted us with a starter salad—half an iceberg lettuce and a few bacon pieces completed the course.

“Pay no attention to them.” He waved to the young man leaving the room. “They are paid very well for their discretion and practiced incognizance of our conversation.”

I eyed the door dubiously, but figured, I’d come this far, and they all knew why I was there. I distracted myself with the food. The salad was really good. It had a thick bacon vinaigrette drizzled over top of the simple presentation.

The forms I’d filled out for Pleasure Incorporated were pretty extensive. If he did his homework, Stephen would know all about my past relationships, going as far back as the asshole who took advantage of me. He’d know I was a Public Relations Officer for a large corporation. He would have discovered I was an only child, had a middle class upbringing, liked to dance, and practiced yoga. He’d even know my favourite foods. I suspected the entree of the meal would be either pasta or steak. He’d also be keenly aware of every dirty fantasy I had. I coughed as a piece of bacon lodged in my throat.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding out my water glass.

My eyes teared, but I held up a hand. “I’m fine,” I wheezed.

He set the glass down and presented the wine instead. “Perhaps this would work better. I know this is awkward, but I’d love to find a way to help you relax.”

I coughed some more.

He handed me a napkin. “I do like that blush, though. It suits you.”

I drank the wine—all of it—and held out my glass for more. “Enjoying yourself?” I asked when I could talk without sputtering all over him.

“Innocence is sexy. I can’t wait to corrupt you.”

On that cue, the waiter returned to clear our plates, while another brought in our main course—filet mignon with mushrooms, onions and what looked like a twice-baked potato. My mouth salivated as the plate was placed and turned to its best angle in front of me.

“This looks incredible.”

“Germaine makes a fantastic gravy. Wait till you take a bite,” he said.

For a few moments neither one of us spoke. I was too absorbed in the melding of flavors in my mouth. I may have closed my eyes.

“You were saying?” he said.

“Pardon?”

“You were about to tell me all of your deepest secrets.”

“I was?”

“Yep.”

“I think you know all of mine. What about you? Who’s the man charged with seducing me tonight?”

“Seducing you? I like the sound of that.” He leaned forward and placed his hand beneath my chin. His thumb brushed my lower lip. “You had a little sauce, just there.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I gripped the fork and knife like a vice. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone, but no one had touched me like that. A simple gesture, yet it lit wild fires inside my belly.

He sat back. “Like you, I had a typical suburban upbringing.”

“What led you here?” I wiped my mouth with the napkin in case he missed a spot, keenly aware of the tingle still buzzing along my lip.

“I had a talent, and Mrs. Murphy found me. It was a lucky break.”

“What talent?” I kept my focus firmly on cutting my steak.

“My friends called me the pussy whisperer.”

My knife stopped its carving. I wanted to come up with something other than ‘oh my God’ as a response, but anything sensible or even remotely witty left my head.

He popped a piece of steak in his mouth. The juice left a delicious sheen on his lip. If I was bold, I’d wipe it away like he’d just done to me. I pushed around the potato on my plate instead. “You must have had a lot of happy girlfriends to earn a title like that.”

“In bed, yes. Most left unsatisfied with the life I was willing to give them.”

“So you’re a lone wolf? The consummate bachelor?”

“Until I find the right woman, yes.”

“Is there a right woman?” I didn’t know why I was fishing. This was an arrangement. I was paying for a service, but the thought of maybe, even the remotest possibility that this man was looking for more and could actually find it, in someone like me was thrilling.

“You’re blushing again. I don’t think I’m going to make it through this dinner without devouring you.”

My appetite for steak took a back seat to the main course. Stephen’s fierce gaze turned my hesitations inside out, and I couldn’t imagine eating another bite.

“May I kiss you?” He stood in front of me and took my hand in his. He drew me to my feet.

“My breath. The dinner.” My free hand flew to my mouth. Where was that minty toothpaste when you needed it? “Maybe we should head back to the room first.”

“You’ll taste like wine and steak—every man’s dream.” His hand slipped around my waist, and he drew me close. His beard brushed my neck. “You smell delicious.”

I shivered. “Chanel.”

“Mmmnnn. Steak.” His lips brushed mine, and I inhaled sharply.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he said.

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to stop.” I sounded like a breathless teenager, but the rational, judgmental side of me was quickly taking a backseat to the very horny, extremely turned on part of me that pressed her hips unabashedly into Stephen’s groin.

“You’re safe with me. If at any point you want me to stop, you need only say ‘No,” or ‘Stop.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Grab your clutch.”

I scooped it off the table, and he lifted me in his arms.

I squealed.

“Do that again, and I’ll have to kiss you.”

I bit my lower lip and threw caution to the wind. “Peep.”

His mouth was against mine so fast, I didn’t have time to focus on anything but the taste of him. Warm, soft, with just the right amount of demanding, my tongue swept forward and sought his.

He strode out of the dining room and tackled the stairs. He could have taken them two at a time, I didn’t know, I was too busy exploring the heat of that kiss and the soft curls of his hair as I threaded my fingers through them.

After a moment, I realized we’d stopped.

“Key,” he panted.

“Bag,” I answered.

He set me down, and I rummaged through the tiny purse with trembling fingers. I handed him the card, certain I’d never get it to unlock in my current state.

He swiped it effortlessly, scooped me back up, and sauntered into the room. He laid me down on the bed and stepped back. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that.” I tucked a curl behind my ear and sat up on the bed.

“My cock doesn’t lie.”

I looked down at the litmus test in question. “Jesus.” It was bulging out of his pocket.

He smiled. “He’s excited to finally get you alone in this bed.” He took off his jacket and laid it across one of the wing-back chairs. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Do you trust that Mrs. Murphy will have my balls if I don’t make this the most satisfying experience of your life?”

I smirked. “That I do trust.”

He walked over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. He retrieved a silk bag and set it on the bed. “Open it.”

I raised an eyebrow, but with an encouraging nod from Stephen, I curled my legs beneath me and grabbed the bag. It was heavy and something metal clanked inside. I loosened the draw string and emptied the contents on the duvet. A pair of handcuffs slid out along with a black silk blindfold. “Fuck.”

“This was one of your fantasies.” He trailed the back of a finger over my shoulder and down my arm. “I’m going to make you scream with pleasure. Will you permit me to restrain you?”

My heart hammered in my chest. I’d put that damning info on my ‘fantasy checklist’ from the agency. I didn’t think I’d actually be doing it. Maybe one day, but tonight? Here? Now?

He fingered the silk blindfold. “What do you think?”

My body had its own reaction. The mere sight of the props made me wet, and my pulse raced. As for my head, a whole host of thoughts were rampaging through my mind: Was I really considering this? Why the hell was I considering this? I’m going to kill Amy. Jesus he’s hot. I want to, but did I trust him? Did I trust me? This was a lot to take in.

He pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it in the handcuffs, swinging them open and closed. He placed the key on the nightstand. “At any point you need only tell me to stop.”

“Okay.” It came out as a whisper.

“I’m so glad you said yes.” His smile weakened my knees, and I was grateful to be sitting down.

“Let’s take care of this dress.” He looped his thumb beneath the edge of the scoop neck and fingered the hem of the thin fabric, brushing the side of my breast in the process.

“Guess I didn’t need to buy that new lingerie.” I knew he was going to throw me down and rip everything off.

“I’m very interested in seeing that. Later. Right now, I’d like you completely naked.”

“Can we dim the lights?” Exposed and vulnerable were not my favorite conditions.

“And miss your incredible blush, I’d rather not. I want to see you flushed with pleasure. I want to watch you come.”

After that remark, I was fairly certain an entire rainbow of florid color tinted my cheeks. It also caused my vocal cords to stop working. I nodded, and he helped me shimmy out of the dress. My breasts bounced free, and he took a moment to palm them, rolling a thumb across the tip of my nipples. Heat coursed through my body as echoes of pleasure shimmered between my legs.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

He unclasped my heels. “I think I’d like to see these with the lingerie later.” He slung the dress over the back of a chair and placed my shoes on the floor. He slipped my panties off, twirling them around his finger before tossing them onto the seat.

I expected to feel extremely self-conscious. I was completely naked, and he was still fully clothed, but the way he looked at me made me feel powerful and sexy, and I dare say, a little bold.

He loosened his tie and flung it beside my panties. “Lay back for me.”

Pleasure Incorporated

Pleasure Incorporated

Welcome to my sexy new FREE series, Pleasure Incorporated. I’m going to post a first draft, hot-off-the-press story each week. Get ready for 52 weeks of Pleasure!

Each week will feature a new client coming to Pleasure Incorporated in the hopes of having their sexual fantasies come true. Pleasure Inc., delivers on its promises.

Join me here, or on Wattpad for each steamy new excerpt in this tantalizing new series.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo