Page 23 of Our Sadie

“All right,” Sadie says, flaring her good hand over her hip. “I want a demonstration. Make lo—have sex with me.”

EIGHT: Claim

DOMINIC

For someone who’s claiming to have former lovers, Sadie’s attitude seems awfully hesitant. But maybe she’s nervous. If so, I can take that in stride. Easing a client’s fears is part of the job.

“Relax, Sadie. I’ll take good care of you. And don’t worry, I have condoms in my pocket.” Wearing one for me is a foregone conclusion. I’ve never gone without.

“Not necessary. I’ve been shown your test results, and I take shots to cover birth control.”

Okay, well, that’ll be different. But the lady gets what the lady wants.

With the housekeeping seen to, I begin my seduction by bringing my arms around her waist and locking lips with her again. Maybe because we’ve been kissing already, her body melts against mine, allowing me to nuzzle her ear and neck.

Sliding my palms upward over her abdomen bit by bit so she can feel me combing over her clothes, I rub my thumbs over her nipples, hearing her breaths grow louder and faster.

A green light.

Without highlighting the fact, I lift the hem of her sweater, removing it in a single pull. Then I press her torso flush against mine as I lay back on her bed. One thing I’ve found with women who are shy about exposing themselves for the first time is distracting them with pleasure is key.

As we kiss, I keep my caresses and strokes limited to the flesh of her bare back, spine, and shoulder blades, but as things between us grow hotter and heavier, I covertly unfasten her bra.

Tracing my hands along her slim figure, I dip them until they’re cupping her ass, giving that roundness a firm squeeze. She moans into my mouth, and would you look at that? My lost wood is making a reappearance.

Hallelujah.

Dropping tiny fluttering pecks along the column of her throat, I tug her loosened bra away with no issue, one hand cupping the nakedness of her left breast. That’s when I detect the bumpy texture and redness of more scarring. It trails not only down the left side of her face, neck, and arm, but across her shoulder and ribcage, too.

Bands of damaged skin blaze across that breast, altering the nipple into a pyramid shape rather than the little button most women have.

Mother of fuck.

Yet I don’t stop the music despite my lack of experience dealing with a client who has suffered something disfiguring to one of the most delicate parts of her body. I focus on what I’m about to do next instead, knowing I’ll need to go forward with a ton of extra care.

So, sitting on the edge of her mattress, I extend the tip of my tongue and lick that injured nipple with a barely-there caress. Afterward, when she gives me no response at all, I’m not sure if she even feels it. I do a second pass, this time exerting a tad more force. When her gaze latches onto mine, I don’t quit, upping the pressure with each press of my tongue.