Barely inside, Emma found herself backed up against a wall - hips pressed against the hard surface. Strong hands dug into her hair. He smelled like expensive cologne and something intangibly masculine. His breath was hot and damp as he leaned in -

"Wait," she gasped, pressing a firm hand against his chest - holding him at bay, "Business first."

He gave her a reluctant half smile; cocking an eyebrow before stepping back and releasing her. Sucking in a breath, she began to shrug off her thick wool coat.

"Cash or check?" he asked, his voice cool and silky, casually slipping his hands into his pockets as he spoke.

"You carry around ten thousand dollars in cash?"

He merely shrugged, his eyes dancing mischievously as he noticed her confused expression.

"Cash is fine," she replied, curiosity swimming over her as she began to wonder exactly who this Killian was, really.

He turned away from her and she took the chance to survey her surroundings. The room was large - with an adjoining bedroom off to her left. Opposite her was a wall of floor to ceiling picture windows looking out on the twinkling city skyline. In front of her was a plush, expensive looking sofa set grouped around a modern steel fireplace that looked like something straight out of an interior design magazine. The walls were painted a deep plum shade - giving the space a strange, almost sensual ambience. It suited him, she thoughtbriefly. Dark. Mysterious.

When he turned back to her, he held in his hand a thick pile of crisp green notes. She glanced down. They were all hundreds.

"Do you want to count it?" he teased, holding out the money so it was within her grasp.

Taking it from him, she opened her purse and pushed it inside. "I trust you."

"Oh do you now?" he toyed, taking a step closer to her.

Emma let out a small laugh. She tossed her coat and purse to one side before hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans. "I have two rules." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out gold foiled condom wrapper, holding it up for him to see, "First, this is non negotiable."

Nodding, "Of course," he avowed. "And number two?"

"I don't kiss." She paused for a second before adding, "On the lips."

His brow furrowed, his eyes questioning her. His gaze darted to her mouth. She saw the way he took in her lips, their curve, their color. His jaw clenched briefly.

"Okay," he finally replied.

She relaxed, the particulars of their arrangement now sorted. She let her hips loosen, sinking to one side, and her hands slid up to her waist. "So…"

Then he was in front of her again, so quickly she barely registered his movement. This time he wrapped one hand around her back and slid it up her neck, burying it into the hairat the base of her skull. His hand was cool against her skin and she shivered slightly. The other found its way to the contour of her hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone, fingers clenching her waist.

When his lips met her skin, she flinched. She hadn't the time to anticipate how it would feel, how it would make her feel. His touch was surprisingly soft - so much so she barely felt his mouth as it lay a trail of kisses along her collar bone and up the line of her neck. She tipped back her head as he brushed the sensitive spot below her chin before crawling along the line of her jaw, which such achingly soft kisses it actually hurt.

She felt hot. Each kiss increasing the burning feeling in her throat. She was barely aware of the way his hand tightened in her hair. The room was darkening. She was forgetting who she was. Where she was. Who she was with. Only feeling. Rearing up into his touch, her hands found their way to his waist, tugging him tighter to her, pressing her chest against his.

As he reached her ear, he tugged on the lobe, rolling it between his teeth, she gasped lightly - a rumble of want growing inside her. The reaction inside her body was so quick and violent it took her by surprise: the line between business and pleasure blurring further as each second passed. She wanted this man. Wanted his mouth on her. His hands on her. Wanted him in every which way she could.

Then his hand began to slide under her shirt, pushing up the material and letting his fingers skate over her flesh - leaving a trail of goose pimples in his wake. With her desire growing, she clung tighter to him. Every breath became difficult as she stood paralyzed in his embrace. When he rubbed his cheek against hers, she was surprised by how gentle it was- so tender, like a lover.

His face was so close to hers it was all a blur; she couldn't focus on anything except for the devastating blue of his eyes. He paused, foreheads almost touching, nose pressed against her cheek, lips so close she could almost feel the buzz of electricity that radiated from them. With a tilt of his head, he nudged her nose, nuzzling into her. It was so intimate, so close - she almost shook in anticipation.

This wasn't how it was meant to happen.

"How about a dance?"

Dipping back a little, she could see him more clearly. The part of his lips. The slight flush on his cheeks. His affectation visible in ever pore. His reaction a reflection or her own state of mind.

He simply nodded, swallowing deeply, letting his hand trail back down her spine, lingering on her hip as he stared deep into her eyes.

It wasn't meant to be like this.

Giving her head a small shake she began to walk towards him, pushing him back towards the couch until he sank back into the cushions with a soft groan. She surveyed the room; spotting a Bose docking station on a dark metallic table in the corner. Quickly, she returned to her purse, digging out her phone and choosing a track before plugging it in - allowing the mellow beat to flood the room. The mood instantly thickening around them.

With a flick of her thumb, she released the button that closed her jeans, slowly pushing them down and kicking off her heels as she dropped them to the floor. Stepping aside she leaned down to him, bringing their faces close again until she was wrapped in his scent. It washed over her in a thick wave: exotic, spiced and all consuming in a way she hadn't experienced before. Her fingers worked quickly on the buttons of his vest, until it lay open, exposing the dark grey shirt that closely skimmed his lean chest.

"Tell me what you like," she asked, beginning to sway and curve her body in time with the throbbing beat of the music.

"I like you," he sassed, raising his brow slightly and reaching out his hand to let his fingers trace down the skin of her thigh. He touched her like she was fragile - delicately as though she were made of glass and may break if he pressed too hard.

Smiling, she hooked her fingers under the hem of her shirt, peeling it away while circling her hips. Staying silent, she crawled up onto the sofa, straddling him again like she had in the club. But this time, her sheer lace underwear gave the action a much more intimate, personal feel. She felt his eyes scan over her again - every inch of skin seemingly explored in a second. How did he do that? she thought, running her hands up and down his chest, unpicking the buttons as she went. His chest was covered in soft, dark hair that gave him a delightfully dangerous appeal. She savoured the slightly rough texture under her palms - so masculine and real: so deliciously arousing.

Emma settled herself into his lap, rolling her hips against him. When he touched her again, she held her breath for a second. His hands were a little cold still - her skin puckered slightly when he dipped a finger into the cup of her bra, glancing over her already hardening nipple and making her press her core against his lap until she met his warm, throbbing erection that was already desperately seeking release from it's tailored prison.

He leaned closer to her, reaching his mouth for her neck and branding the skin again, his tongue supplementing those lips - creating a dizzying contrast of hot and cold. Then he unhooked her bra, fingers lingering over the small bones of her back, tracing them one by one as his mouth reached her breast.

Oh how she wanted to feel his lips on that skin, for him to take her in his mouth, for his hands to push up against her…

And it was better than she could have imagined. Rough yet tender, his hands and mouth moved quickly, arresting her senses as she continued to rock against him, searching for that divine friction that she so craved. Lips tracing lazy circles that matched the firm grip of his hands - rough yet smooth, strong yet gentle.

Enraptured, she pulled away the last of his shirt, wrestling awkwardly with his cufflinks, swimming in sensation. She leaned back, resting on his thighs, her body bared to him as he pressed his hands back and forth over her skin. Her eyes sank closed, fingers trailing over the lean muscles of his arms as she let him consume her for a moment. Let him use her, take her.

"You're a bloody beautiful thing," he whispered, bending down and dropping kisses across her waist - her stomach fluttering at his touch, his expert lips so teasing and delightful she never wanted him to stop.

When he picked her up, her eyes flashed open in surprise just in time to feel his lips on her face. Oh, he carefully avoided her mouth - but he bent the rules. A kiss on her forehead, the tip of her nose, the hollow of her cheek, the little dimple that emerged where the corners of her lips met… Each one sparking a desire inside her to break her rules, to pull his mouth to hers. Those lips felt so divine she felt a craving to taste them - a craving she pushed away, chastising herself: this is business, Swan.

Sweeping her along into the other room, he laid her down on the bed, standing for a second, just watching her. Her hair was pooled around her head, her arms raised, fingers lazily twirling strands between them. She couldn't read his face. His eyes seemed darker in the low light; his gaze unflinching. Emma rarely met someone she couldn't read, but this man, this Killian, was closed off to her. He was keeping something hidden, something that intrigued her and piqued her interest, something that spoke to her desire to uncover hidden secrets.

"I think," she muttered, settling into a seated position, "You are wearing too many clothes."

Then he did it again, that damn smirk that made her stomach flip. He gestured towards his pants with open palms. She shuffled forward until he was within her reach and then traced the outline of his hardness with her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that made his eyes flash closed and a soft curse fall from his lips. Pleased at his reaction, she tugged his belt open, unzipping the fly and pressing down his pants until she was face to face with a pair of black boxer briefs. Hmm, she thought, he certainly likes black…

He quickly kicked away his clothes and shoes, never looking from her. It was as if he couldn't somehow. Things were becoming a little intense for her liking. The looks too lingering. The silences too meaningful. So she grabbed his waist, tugging him closer. Hungry to taste his skin, desperate to place her lips on him, enjoy his body the way he had enjoyed hers. But even more so the break this strange impasse between them. Though this may be a business agreement, Emma intended to relish every second.

He flinched as her lips roamed his stomach, leaving moist trails while she reached her hand between his legs, rolling and cupping him - her core throbbing a little when she felt his thickness and length - trembling slightly at the burn she knew it would evoke, shivering at the anticipation of how he would fill her so delightfully. These feelings she could cope with. Sex, the act, the sensations. Feelings - emotions - not required. She was in control.

Then his underwear was gone as her fever grew, grasping him firmly, circling him with her lips, lapping her tongue against his tip. She worked into him, rocking her hand as she slipped him deeper into her mouth, his moans increasing in volume the harder she twirled and sucked.

"Gods, your mouth feels amazing."

She hooked her legs around his, drawing him closer, reaching to take a handful of his firm ass - digging in her nails, scratching him roughly as she became more overwhelmed by her task. Harder. Tighter. Deeper. She let him fuck her mouth, his hand grabbing her hair, his hips thrusting into her throat so fast she began to struggle to keep breathing. She could feel him getting closer. She steeled herself for his climax-

"Wait," he gasped, reeling backwards, chest heaving, small beads of sweat on his brow.

Emma rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, her brow crumpling, "Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

"Oh no. Not at all." He seemed to be composing himself. "But I don't want to come in your mouth. At least not tonight."

Sinking to his knees she felt herself tremble in anticipation. She knew what he was planning. She knew and she was scared - it was so intimate. She hadn't let a man make love to her like that, not for a very long time at least. A flicker of fear burned inside.

"You don't have to," she protested as he rolled down her panties and she felt the chilled air of the room cool her wetness, "It's about you tonight."

He gazed up her body. So serious he looked - his mouth in a straight line, the reflection of the lights from outside dancing on his eyes. He pressed a kiss just where her hip met her leg. She shivered. "But I want to. I want to see you come Emma. That's not a problem is it?"

He was her client and she couldn't really deny him if he really wanted to - she'd been asked to do a lot kinkier things before (to which she invariably declined). In reply, she shook her head slightly before pressing it back against the soft comforter.

In the darkness, she let her senses take over and her eyes slip closed. A whisper of warm breath against her core. Then a touch - gentle at first, more pressure
following. Cool, soft, wet. Lapping, drawing figures of eights, lines and circles. Flicking against her clit - shooting hot sparks up through her abdomen.

Rolling her head to one side, she slipped one heel to his shoulder, baring more of her intimacy. Gentle fingers began to trace her folds, dipping into the wetness, smearing it around her cunt, slowly easing inside her, opening her up, spreading her. Making her ache for him.

"Gorgeous," he muttered against her, nuzzling his face into her stomach, his scruff skimming over her skin as he drove his fingers back and forth. "Talk to me Emma. Tell me how this feels. How am I making you feel?"

Her self consciousness had lifted. All that was left was her senses.

The words tripped eagerly from her tongue. "Hot. Aching. Burning pressure. Don't stop. Please." Bucking up her stomach she stifled a gasp as his fingers rubbed against her walls in exactly the place that made her want to scream, "Oh God! Damn, this feels like heaven. Please, harder. Please."

He obliged, pressing against her bundle of nerves again and again - rippling his fingers inside of her. Her stomach contracted. The pressure began to build.

"I'm going to come," she panted, her voice high pitched and faint, her face contorting as she felt herself become overwhelmed, "It's too much - I can't - I can't-"
It was a guttural cry that escaped her throat. Something feral and primitive. Strong waves of pleasure rippled though her - pulsing the muscles in her core, pressing against his fingers as they kept working against her.

"I can feel you coming around my fingers. Fuck it feels good— I can't wait until you come on my cock. I'm going to make you come again and again and again until you beg me to stop, Emma"

It was the most he had spoken all night, but she was too spent to process his words fully, her body melting into itself as she settled down from her high, cool blood pooling in her veins. But she registered his promise and shivered in anticipation. The buzzing in her ears began to settle. Her vision became clear again. Enough to see him hovering above her.

Their eyes locked. He grasped her hand, lifting her up until she was standing. He led her across the room, to the window. In front of it was a small chaise lounge. She started to breathe a little quicker, her earlier climax fading and a new want growing to replace it.

He sat facing her, tugging her until she stood between his legs. She let herself look at him properly for the first time. His skin glowed under the city lights. He was all lean, taut muscle and dark, swarthy hair. His erection jutting up proudly from his lap, ready for her, teasing her… She let herself run her hand over him again - he flinched. Emma was fascinated, as she always was, by the combination of soft skin and rock hard solidity.

"I thought you may like a view," he whispered, gesturing to the city scene behind him.

"Can anyone see?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. A fever grew up inside her. The prospect of someone watching their fucking filling her with an unexpected thrill that swirled inside her and tied her stomach in knots.

"Well, we better put on a good show. Just in case," she winked. Then he seized her waist, bundling her into his lap.

Furious kisses began to swarm over her skin. Relentless and overpowering - brushing over her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Fingers and hands traversing her body, working her like she was some kind of instrument, swaying to his beat, pressing against him. Her core was wet, and hot and throbbing. Burning, scalding, demanding it's release.

Frustrated, she dug her mouth into his neck, nipping at him with her teeth, her fingers scaling his back, rubbing against the muscles that rippled as he worked her body.

"Mmm."

"Ah."

"Hmmm."

Her cries were soft, involuntary. Each one tightening his grip on her body.

Then she pushed her chest up to his lips - desperate for him to take her in his mouth again. When he obliged she thought she was in heaven. So warm, so soft. The heat mingling inside her was addictive and overwhelming all at once.

"Now," he suddenly growled, snapping back his head. He lifted her from his lap, sitting her on the seat beside him before stalking across the room. Quickly returning with a condom in his hand, ripping it open as he walked, starting to unravel it before he reached her.

His was hair ruffled, his eyes blazing, his lips curved in a wicked little smile: Emma steeled herself.

Then without a word he resumed his earlier stance, picking her up effortlessly, pushing her hips to his - teasing at her entrance.

"Go on," she urged, tilting up her chin, looking down at him, raising her chest and pulling back her shoulders, "Take me. Fuck me. I can handle it."

So he did. Hard. Rough. Pinching. Burning.

She gasped. The stretch was so much. Too much. It overwhelmed her. She shifted her legs a little wider to accommodate him, steeling her breathing as he pressed up into her, before dragging himself out and driving in once more without allowing her the time to adjust to his size.

Relentless. Forcing himself inside her tightness as she slowly warmed to him. The sensation began to overwhelm her. It had been so long since she had been with a man who could make her feel this way. Most clients were selfish, where Killian seemed more focused on her responses and sensations - his hands swarmed over her body as he eased her hips into a rolling pace.

Minutes passed, his hardness slickly drifting in and out, her wetness spilling forth over him - more and more each second as the burn turned to an ache which sank into a throbbing, churning desire that filled her body - seeping from her pores, rolling from her lips.

"Yes, oh, yes…"

Other words seemed impossible - only this brief encouragement slipped from her lips. Her mind was incapable of coherent thought when consumed in the powerful sensations he elicited from her body.

As her moans became more vocal, his restraint seemed to wane. His thrusts becoming less precise. He was slick with sweat, shoulders glistening; her hands slipped against his skin as she pressed her palms against his chest.

"Fuck you're so tight, I can feel you, you're crushing against me. It's so good Emma, so good."

She flipped her head back, his words churning her stomach, heightening every sensation. Her hips began to rock and pivot harder against him.

"That's a good girl now - ride me. Go on. Make yourself come for me again. Fuck me, use my cock, make yourself come again."

Those words were it for her. Unleashing, as they did, the dirty little girl inside who wanted nothing more than to be talked to like that. Graphic. No messing around.

The rocking and pushing was uncoordinated and messy: slippery, wet. Panting, moaning, fingers digging in, muscles clenching. It all became a blur. A total blur. A blur of pleasure.

All sensations melding into one.

As she was overcome once more she was briefly aware of the street below. Cars idling past. Street lights shining. Towering buildings with twinkling lights…
"God!" he cried, pulling her so tight to him the breath was squeezed out of her lungs, pushing her into her own orgasm. "That's it love, come on-" he choked, reaching between them to press against her clit again. She wanted to scream. So she did.

Her head found his shoulder. Her body was shaking. Her legs felt weak and her mind numb.

This wasn't how it was meant to be…

The thought echoed in her as she nestled against him. When his hand began to trace lazy lines down her back, she felt herself smile. Sated and tired, she didn't have the energy to move. His body beneath her was warm and comforting, his arms holding her closely, still tight around her even minutes later.

Then he tilted his head and she felt a small kiss on her temple - cool, damp, almost chaste.

Though her breathing calmed, her heart still raced. She didn't know if it was because of her orgasm, or his closeness and the way it felt to be wrapped in his arms…
Emma was trying not to care how intimate this felt. Trying not to let herself pretend this was more than business.

Trying. But failing.

A review would be immensely appreciated!