Anything You Want. Jenesi Ash

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      It can happen. I might get paid to have sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m the most knowledgeable person about the subject. Being a kept woman isn’t about knowing ancient sexual secrets, I remind myself as I stroll into the bedroom. It’s all about attitude. I am to act as if I exist solely for his pleasure.

      I step into the bedroom and see George loosening his necktie. “Sit on the bed,” he tells me.

      Maneuvering around him, I’m about to perch on the edge of the mattress when he stops me. “Wait,” he says. “Your hair. It’s wrong.”

      I instinctively reach up and touch my hair. It’s loose and skimming my shoulders. Oops. George prefers my hair up. Not like a bun or twist. He wants to see ponytails or braids, the higher the better.

      “Hold that thought!” I rush into my bathroom and sort through my barrettes and rubber bands. I hurriedly gather my hair in high, messy pigtails using plastic holders. They are bubble gum pink and tacky. I can’t believe someone as elegant as George likes them.

      I try not to glance in the mirror because I know I look ridiculous. I quickly return to the bedroom and I see George standing by the bed, his hands on his hips. He’s frowning. I’m in trouble.

      Lowering my head, I place my hands behind my back and shuffle toward him. “Sorry,” I whisper, but I don’t really feel that way.

      “Sit on the bed.”

      I sit gingerly on the corner of the bed. George stands in front of me. “Spread your legs,” he says gruffly.

      I follow his order, but I take my own sweet time doing it. After being with George for this long, I can read his moods. He wants me to act shy instead of naughty today. It’s my goal to give him anything he wants.

      George steps between my legs. He reaches out and places the palm of his hand on the top of my head. His touch is tender as he strokes my hair. I glance up at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching our reflection from the mirror above my bed.

      “Undo my belt,” he says hoarsely.

      I slowly unbuckle his belt, my fingers fumbling. It’s not easy pretending that this is the first man’s belt I’ve encountered, but I have my routine. Once I pull the leather from George’s belt loops, I reach for his zipper.

      By this time, George is reverently fondling the plastic ponytail holders in my hair. “Take off my pants,” he whispers roughly.

      I drag the zipper down and peel away the expensive fabric. I cup his stirring penis that is concealed in his silk boxers. He’s hot to the touch.

      “Come on, baby. You know what I want.” George grips my ponytails in his fists. I wince, but the bite of pain adds to my arousal.

      I slip my fingers under the waistband of his underwear and push it down his hips. His penis is right in front of my face. I lick my lips with anticipation as I inhale his hot, musky scent.

      Stroking his cock with my fingertips, I know the sensation is too light and teasing for him. He thrusts his hips closer. “Suck me,” he says, his voice almost a growl. “I want you to take every inch.”

      I grasp the root of his penis with one hand and squeeze him. The way he flinches gives me a perverse sense of satisfaction. I show no expression as he twists my pigtails around his fingers and yanks my head back.

      “Do I need to feed you myself?” he asks. His low, commanding voice makes me wet.

      “No,” I tell him and wrap my lips around the tip of his penis. I love the taste of George. Salty, warm and male. I swirl my tongue and suckle while I pump the base of his erection.

      George keeps playing with my hair and murmurs encouragingly as I slowly make my way down his cock. It doesn’t take long before his length is deep in my throat and my nose is firmly pressed against his wiry pubic hair.

      I now have my hands on George’s testicles. I fondle the sacs, enjoying how he twitches beneath my touch. He’s panting and vibrating with need. I can feel his muscles bunching and shaking.

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