Audacity (Seraph)

I’ve broken her, and it’s magnificent in the same way that witnessing an all-powerful wave crest and break and dissolve into a mesmerising froth is magnificent.

She’s magnificent.

This assured young woman who has not put a foot wrong since we met yesterday, whose every word and gesture have been premeditated and purposeful and flawlessly delivered, has her hand clamped around my head, smashing my mouth against her cunt, her astounding body wracked with sobs, with shudders, as she rides out the mother of all orgasms against my tongue.

If I wasn’t already reeling, drunk on her scent, I would be now. I can feel her inner walls convulsing around my fingers as I work my tongue as roughly as I can against the slick button of her clit. It’s fucking soaking down here, her arousal coating my fingers and dripping down over my knuckles.

Even when I order her to make a mess, she’s an overachiever.

I groan against her flesh, lapping her up, drinking her in greedily as her orgasm ebbs away. My cock is an iron bar in my trousers, reducing my headspace to one single thought: it needs to replace my fingers, to push into that tight channel that’s so ridiculously, so thoroughly primed for me.

She loosens her grip on my head with a shaky, self-conscious little laugh that has me easing my mouth off her pussy and kissing her inner thigh before raising my head so I can take her in. She’s looking down at me, those huge hazel eyes glassy. Her hair and makeup are still immaculate but she looks softer, somehow. More vulnerable.

I ease myself gingerly to standing, my agonisingly hard dick jerking in outrage at the friction of my trousers against it. ‘You taste even sexier than you look,’ I say, sliding my hands under her jaw and tipping her face upwards, ‘and that’s saying something, believe me.’ After I’ve kissed her, fleetingly but sufficiently for her to taste herself on my lips, I help her off the stool.

‘Look,’ I say, pointing at the stool’s fabric seat as I band my other arm around the soft skin of her waist. ‘What a very messy girl you are.’

I’d love nothing more than to throw her on the bed and stay fully clothed as I rail her, but I’m conscious this is as much of an audition for me as it is for her. It’s only fair she sees the goods before she signs on the dotted line.

‘Undress me quickly so I can get inside you,’ I tell her instead. ‘I’m about to shoot my load after that.’ The look she shoots me is downright lascivious as she gets to work, unbuttoning my shirt with swift movements and tugging the tails out from my waistband. She makes quick work of it, and it’s off in a moment.

‘Let me take the edge off,’ she purrs, unbuckling my belt. ‘I’ll suck your dick now and then you can take your time fucking me.’

I groan, because my dick would like that very much. But I’ve obsessed about this over the past few days. ‘I told you I was a patient man. I’d very much like the first time you suck it to be when you start working for me. If you take the job, obviously.’

She gives a little moan. ‘Mmm, that’s hot. You can get me on my knees as soon as I walk in the door, for all I care.’ She accompanies this by sliding her dainty little hand into my unzipped trousers and palming me through my boxers, and hooooly fuck. If I’m not inside her in the next thirty seconds I’ll die, I’ll actually expire, so I assist her by means of shoving my trousers down and hopping around as I clumsily wrench off my socks and shoes. My final move is to send my wallet, into which I’ve stuffed a few condoms, flying onto the bed.

When I’m standing straight again, she steps right up to me so she can run her lips and nose along the ridge of my shoulder before sliding her hand inside my boxers and wrapping it around my cock.

‘Fuck,’ she says against my skin.

‘On the bed,’ I growl. ‘Now.’

She releases me. ‘How do you want me?’

Dear God. ‘On your back, so I can see you.’

I lose the boxers as she trots over to the bed, arranging herself prettily on her back. I waste no time in climbing on and ranging over her. My dick may be pointing angrily at her, but I am a master of delayed gratification. And taking in the astonishing beauty of this naked woman lying splayed beneath me on the sumptuous white bedlinen is gratifying indeed.

She’s staring up at me, her eyes flickering from my face to my erection and back again, her expression playful and curious. I reach out and caress her breast, allowing my hand to skate downwards over the curves of her body until it rests on her hip. She is every lonely, starving fantasy I’ve ever tried to stifle throughout my years of pledged celibacy.

The male of the species is shown from the very first pages of Genesis to be pathetically ill-equipped to withstand temptation. This Eve, with her perfect body and entrancing eyes and silken tresses, is the ultimate seducer, and every glorious curve is as ripe, as decadent, as that forbidden fruit must have been to Adam.

As we gaze at each other she moves her leg, stroking the arch of her foot along my calf. ‘I’m not just saying this, but you are fucking gorgeous. You must have had women throwing themselves at you after Mass every day of the week. I know I would have.’

I laugh and reach back to grab her ankle. ‘The women of my parish had a healthy respect for the office of the priesthood.’

She wrinkles her sweet little nose. ‘Ugh. How revoltingly virtuous. And it’s their loss. Because I’m the one who’s got you naked. You going to show me what damage you can do with that thing? Or are you just going to make me stare at it all night?’

I shake my head as I release her ankle so I can reach for my wallet. She is a piece of work, and if I should be deluded enough to think for a moment I’ll be calling the shots with her, I suspect I’ll only have myself to blame for the fallout.

‘I’m absolutely not going to make you stare at it all night, no,’ I say as I rip open the foil of one condom and pinch the tip. ‘I’d far rather be buried deep inside you.’ I pause, grimacing as I roll the latex over my terrifyingly engorged crown. ‘But I’ve been looking forward to this moment, in a way, since Anton and Max sang your praises, so I’d like to savour the moment, if that’s okay with you.’

She’s not looking at my face. Instead, her eyes are glued to my dick as I sheath it. ‘If you’re asking whether I can wait a few more seconds until you unleash weeks of anticipation and years of tragic celibacy on my body then the answer is yes, I can certainly accommodate that.’

Despite myself, I grin. She’s funnier than I expected, which makes sense, because a person this smart would of course be witty. Besides, in this profession she presumably needs a decent sense of humour.

‘You’re very intense,’ she notes, cocking her head to one side. Her eyes have, amazingly enough, travelled back to my face. ‘I can’t wait to see if you’re this intense when you fuck.’

‘I absolutely am,’ I assure her as I wedge one arm under her and flip her over. She goes with a little squeal of surprise but scrambles to her knees like the pro she is.

‘You wanted intense,’ I say by way of explanation, and she makes a pleased humming sound.

She’s waving that lovely pale bottom in my face, her bare cunt pink and glistening and marvellous, and all of it it is a red rag to a fucking bull. Before she can reply, I notch myself at her entrance. ‘This okay?’

‘God, yes,’ she moans with a little shimmy of her hips.

‘Good,’ I say and I push in. I move harder than I usually would, but she’s like the Niagara Falls down here, so I’m assuming lubrication is not a problem.

It strikes me in this moment, as I wedge myself inside her inch by excruciating inch, that it is apt indeed that she’s named after a goddess, because I’ve had sex—plenty of sex—since I threw myself head-first down my rabbit hole of sinful secularism, but Athena is on a different level.

I’m unsure just how fucked up it is that the most transactional—the only transactional—sex I’ve had is shaping up to be the least perfunctory by far.

Perhaps in this, as in all things, you get what you pay for.

She’s shaking as she takes me in. I release my dick, which is now wedged far enough inside her to direct itself, and grip her hip as I run my other hand down the delicate ridges of her spinal column.

In this moment, as I bottom out, they seem as sacred as a rosary.

A man could find peace here, buried astonishingly deep inside her while his fingers moves along the exquisite knots of her spine just as they might slide over prayer beads. Even with the torturous burning of my need for release, my arousal flying around me like a maelstrom, there’s a kind of peace here, a hyper-presence at the heart of this storm.

We Catholics have a rich history of finding stillness in the confrontation of physical discomfort. Is my desperate need to rut and rut until I’ve emptied myself inside the vessel of Athena’s opulent body any less effective than whips or hair shirts or hot coals?

I don’t think so.

But being on the cusp of fucking Athena senseless is undoubtedly a pleasure of the flesh, and I’d do well to luxuriate in it, to soak myself in every last drop of the filth and depravity this moment offers.

And I do. I fucking do.

‘I’m going to move,’ I tell her, dragging my fingers back down over those rosary beads so I can grip both hips, because there is a time for praying, and there is a time for acting.

‘Do it,’ she begs. Her voice and her warmth and the tight glove of her body are enough to send a fellow insane. I pull out and drive back in, the glow of pleasure lighting me up as I bottom out again. She shunts forward with a small moan before righting herself and pushing back against me.

Fucking hell.

I brace on one hand so I can explore the lavish weight of her tits as they hang free. Her nipples are still rock hard, and I pinch one before caressing her whole breast.

‘Mmm,’ she whimpers.

Something godless and feral and base comes over me: a surge of satisfaction that I am inside this most glittering prize, this most magical woman. ‘Fuck, you’re worth every penny,’ I grit out as I ram into her again.

‘Better make good use of me,’ she says, breathing heavily. ‘Think about how crazy that photo of me holding my pussy open for you made me, like it was an invitation. And now you’re inside it.’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ I agree, driving mindlessly into her. That fleeting moment of stillness has shattered and my dick has taken over.

‘You just bought yourself one of the most exclusive whores in the country,’ she continues, standing her ground valiantly as I fuck her, ‘and you can do anything to me. I can’t wait for you to tie me up and show me off and debase me and do whatever the fuck you want.’

A sickening arousal courses over me. ‘You like that? You like being reminded that you’re a whore while I fuck you like this on your hands and knees?’

‘I need it,’ she admits brokenly.

I didn’t know absolution could be like this.

What kind of fucked-up paradise am I in, I wonder as I fuck her and fuck her and fuck her, where absolution comes from the acknowledgment that I can, in fact, lean into every filthy, debasing urge I have because it’s not only what she likes but what she needs?

Dear Lord, I am so fucking damned.

‘I’m going to spend every day until you start this job thinking up ways to put you to work,’ I tell her with the bravado of a man so galvanised by the high of imminent orgasm that everything seems possible and permissible. I reach forward with one hand and wrap a thick rope of her beautiful hair around my fist, angling her head to one side so I can see the workings of her jaw and throat as her own pleasure grows.

‘Oh God,’ she moans. ‘Please do. You can do anything.’ Her words, her breaths, are growing more ragged with each thrust. ‘Oh fuck—fuck, I’m⁠—’

And she lets herself go.

The pure joy and relief I feel as she convulses around me, giving me her blessing to let myself hurtle through galaxies filled with white-hot pleasure, is indescribable. I’m aware of the low, bestial noises I make as I rut and rut and empty and empty, of the soaring, wondrous, light-filled euphoria coursing through me.

As I come down from my impossible high, I release her hair and smooth my hand down her back. All thoughts of prayers are gone—I don’t fucking need them.

I ease carefully out of Athena’s body and help her onto her side. ‘Wait,’ I tell her, clambering off the bed with my fingers holding the condom on. ‘Don’t move.’

In the bathroom, I dispose of the condom quickly and grab her a robe. I have no idea if a woman who’s been paid for sex has more or less post-coital vulnerability than other women, but I’m not about to take any chances. After the mother of all orgasms, I’d like to think my despicably base urges are sated and I can think and act like a man for whom compassion has been his literal job.

When I come back through to the main suite, she’s lying on her side, facing the centre of the bed, one leg pulled up and one laid out. She looks otherworldly beautiful, pretty fucking satisfied, and not overtly self-conscious.

‘Hey,’ I say, climbing on and laying the robe over her before I lie down to face her.

She gazes at me through her thick eyelashes, giving me a dazed little smile. She looks like she’s momentarily lost a couple of IQ points, which I’m unfeasibly pleased about.

‘That’s very thoughtful, thank you.’

‘I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so…’ I trail off and prop myself up on one elbow so I can enjoy the view. ‘Are you feeling okay?’ I ask.

A little laugh. ‘Uh, yes. I am very okay.’

My parents definitely didn’t raise me to employ high class hookers in my workplace, but neither did they raise me to treat any woman with less than the full respect she merits. And Athena may have got off on being spoken to like a whore just now, but it’s clear to anyone who meets her that she is an incredible woman who deserves to be treated like the goddess she is.

As far as I’m concerned, the moment we both come down from our orgasms is the moment that demeaning talk stops and I demonstrate the full force of my esteem.

‘Glad to hear it,’ I say now. ‘That was…’ I blow out a breath. ‘Fucking spectacular.’

‘Yeah. It was hot as fuck.’

‘Excellent.’ I clear my throat as I lay a hand on her hip through the robe. ‘So the obvious question is, when can you start?’

She laughs, but there’s a pleased flush on her face that I really like. ‘I’ve got the job?’

Now it’s my turn to laugh. ‘You’ve got the job, a million times over, if you’ll take it. I’m so fucking sold it’s not funny.’

She sits up, letting the robe slide off her, and I admire the generous swell of her breasts, the perfect pinkness of her still-taut nipples against her creamy skin. She gets her arms through the sleeves of the robe and pulls it loosely closed around her, leaving it untied. I rise reluctantly to sitting and place a spare pillow over my dick, because it seems she’s already shifted into work mode.

‘Okay,’ she says, eyes narrowing as she surveys me. ‘Let’s do this.’

‘Really? I passed?’ A broad grin splits my face, and she shakes her head at the sight of it.

‘Let’s just say you scraped through. By the skin of your teeth.’

Those two toe-curling orgasms I gave her tell a different story, but I’ll let her have this.

‘Glad to hear it. So when can you start? What’s the score with giving notice?’

She screws up her face. ‘Technically, there’s no notice period. That’s to protect the Seraphim if we want to get out of a position quickly. But I’d never do that to my current employer, so let’s say a month. I owe him that, at least. I’ll hand in my notice as soon as I receive your formal offer letter.’

She’ll have that letter in her inbox by tomorrow, if I have my way. ‘A month. Jesus, kill me now.’

‘You’ll survive. I’m sure your current EA—Gladys, wasn’t it—can jerk you off if you get too wound up.’

‘Please don’t even joke about that.’

‘Well, you can take yourself off to Alchemy. Try to stay awake this time. You’re a big boy, you’ll handle it. And I’d like to start reading up on the business in more detail while I’m working out my notice. I’ll sign an NDA with the offer letter so you can share your data with me.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say forlornly. A whole fucking month.

‘It’ll fly by, especially with Christmas.’ She pats me on the shoulder as she slides off the bed, wrapping her robe more tightly around her. ‘Besides, you told me you like taking things slow. Remember?’