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“You want me to come, don’t you?” Sometimes I don’t recognize my own voice when I’m like this. It’s terrifying, mystifying, and so fucking amazing that I want to stay like this with her forever. “You want to surrender to me?”

“Yes…” Her eyes clear long enough for her to hear me. “I surrender to you.”

Those are the words that kick my ass and send me over a dangerous edge.

I’ve reached the point of no return. Katie’s moaning as loud as I am groaning, her body shaking from my hand as she completely surrenders to my whim. I feel her orgasm once more, those muscles massaging my fingers until I finally give her what we both want.

“Ira!” No matter how many times she cries my name, it never gets old. “Oh, God.”

Not bad company, if I do say so myself.

My hand stills inside her, deep, giving her what she begged for. I redirect my energy to my own clit, the relief flooding through my thighs unlike any other high this world can give you. Not only on my end. Looking at Katie gasp at how I fuck her tells me that this is also the best high of her life. In that moment, as I reach deep into her, and her body shudders all around me, it truly feels like we have nothing but one another in this world.

I almost forget what I’m doing. As climax clocks the back of my head, I cry out in my need for her. She braces against my elbows as I heave my thighs up and unleash myself on her stomach. Her eyes roll back. I feel like the ruler of the fucking world.

“Ira…” Her whisper haunts me as I lose my energy.

I land on her, sucking her nipples and throat, my mouth everywhere at once, I swear. Katie closes her eyes and presses her hand against her forehead, heaving deep and yet shallow breaths as her center relaxes around my submerged knuckles.

Slowly, I pull both my fingers and the plug out, amazed that one woman can be so wet. Her legs stay spread as she watches. I wait for her to freak out on me like she did that first time, but all Katie does is fling back onto my bed with a mighty sigh. Now there’s fluids on my fucking bed. I drag myself to the nightstand to get tissues.

Kathleen helps me clean up, still wearing the T-shirt and torn pantyhose before kicking off her heels and disappearing into my bathroom. I search for my pants. It’s not a romantic moment. It doesn’t have to be.

Considering my doorbell is ringing, it’s probably a good thing we’re not in flagrante.

Chapter 52

Kathleen

Never thought it was possible for a bathroom to be more comfortable than mine, but here I am, sitting and contemplating the nice décor and the sheer amount of comfort one person can pack into a private abode.

Hard to believe that the first time I was in here it was to scream and cry and get sprayed right on the crotch in the shower.

Speaking of crotches and hoses, my tights are totally ruined. Thanks, Ira.

The toilet barely makes a sound when I flush it. Damnit, I’m rich as fuck, and even my toilet makes noises. I need to find out who did all the plumbing in here and get them in my apartment. The building manager will totally understand.

When I finish cleaning up, I wander into the bedroom, hoping I can convince Ira to take my exquisite aftercare to the tub. Except I don’t see her in here. In fact, the bedroom door is closed, something that only happens when she’s about to go to sleep, if at all – she’s someone who likes to let the cat in and out as it pleases.

I’m in such a reverie that my senses are dulled and I’m unable to hear the voices out in the main living area of the condo. So imagine my surprise when I fling open the bedroom door and march out in my disheveled T-shirt with my nipples poking up and my tights torn at my crotch. Oh, and my “teenage Katie” hair that I put up to complete my fashionably retro look tonight. Imagine my surprise, indeed, when I walk out in the living area looking like this and run right smack dab into one of the last people I ever want to see.

“You’ve got bigger balls than me,” Ira says to Stephanie, who is leaning against her kitchen counter as if they’re that close. “Coming into my home after what you’ve done?”

“I’ve done nothing except what’s good for my career.” Her sweetness is so fake. “Face it, your father has more money than you. Not to mention his connections with some producers in Hollywood. If I’m going to keep being the new golden girl, then I need those connections. Although…” She bats those thick eyelashes as if she’s looking for something. “You have the bigger… talent. And know how to use it better.”

Ira makes a face. You know, the kind you make when you walk in on your parents naked and having sex. Disgusted, grossed out, get me out of here. If Stephanie weren’t blocking the counter, Ira would probably get out the bleach and scrub her brain.

“What the hell do you want with me?”

Stephanie steps away from the counter and approaches with a sway of her hips. “You know what I want, Ira.”

Ira looks at me. Stephanie looks over her shoulder at me, chuckling.

“I don’t care about your pretty and rich girlfriend. We’ve all got our…” She’s snorting, and I know it’s because of how I’m dressed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not super excited about her seeing me like this, but it’s Stephanie. I don’t give a shit she’s looking right at my waxed pussy as displayed through my ripped tights. “Well, we’ve all got our fetishes. Besides, wouldn’t it be hypocritical of me to want something exclusive? I don’t intend on dumping your father soon.”

If I had to choose one attractive thing about Ira Mathison, it would be her ability to stay calm through any situation. She may show a blip of shock or concern, but otherwise, she’s the kind of person you want to have around when shit goes down. Like a woman you only dated twice stalking you.

“You’ve got three minutes to tell me exactly what it is you want before I escort you out of here,” Ira says. “Somehow I doubt you came here to flirt and nothing more.”