Lady Croft 2

Lara’s jaw dropped in delighted offense. I felt like I’d captured something—like a photographer must feel when they get just the right angle on a subject—it was all there, in that one facial expression. The class Lara had, to be incensed, and the other side of her, giving me a sort of approval at my audacity simply with what a lovely look it was on her face. Not that any look wasn’t lovely, when she wore it, but knowing I’d gotten that reaction out of her…

“What a forward young man you are!” she chirped, still so deliciously outraged.

“Is that not a legitimate question?”

“I should say not! You’re supposed to be interviewing me about my work, remember?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have a boyfriend and how does he feel about your work?”

I’ve never been one to gamble, but just then, the risk was too sweet. Even if she threw me out… and she probably could, with those muscles… it was worth it if I got somewhere and worth it if all I did was provoke her. Suddenly I understood all those little boys who pulled pigtails just for the sake of it.

Lara grinned, slightly askew… a less polished look than the practiced smile I realized she’d been giving me before. A bit of a demented grin—you wouldn’t want to see it on your cabbie if you had a long car ride ahead of you.

“I do believe I’ll chalk this unfortunate incident up to the alcohol.”

I was so surprised I forgot we were playing; I glanced at the iced tea. “There’s alcohol in this?”

“No,” Lara said, through her Cheshire cat smile. Even more delighted that she’d scored a point on me. “Would you like some?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, sure. I’d like anything…” I trailed off, unable to say I’d like anything she would give me, but I was pretty sure she got the idea.

Lara got up, stretching the kinks out after her long sit, then turned and strutted around the pool. A cloud had passed over the sun and most of the light on this dismal day came up from the pool. Filtered through the gently rolling waves, the light daubed and painted over her perfect body like she was a goddess dancing through the Northern Lights.

And I was right about her wearing a thong.

I was ensnared by the sleek simplicity of her ass. A neat circle, full and round, separated into two perfect halves. No excess detail to detract from its unvarnished perfection. Only the modest excess of it, fleshy just enough to fully display its fineness, each step sending a jiggle through its mouthwatering heft.

My cock was rising fast and I was grateful she was so determinedly leading the way, not a backwards glance or a single stray look. She took me into the manor through a patio door, up a little flight of stairs, and then she stopped and turned and look at me. Those jeweled green eyes high above the bulge of my erection, but I got the sense that she’d known about my hardness since its first stirring.

“In here,” she said, and the next door took us into the master bedroom. Dressers and mirrors and a huge four-poster bed with pink sheets.

She sat down on the foot of it.

“Strip,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t play games,” she snapped. “Not those games, at least. I only want the best and I take what I want. That tent you’ve got in your pants looks promising—now let’s see if you have the balls to seal the deal. Take it out and show me if it’s enough for me.”

“And if it isn’t?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “You were confident enough before; don’t wilt now, just because I’m woman enough to give it back to you. It’s unbecoming.”

I forced away the thought that exposing myself to her would result in screams, arrests, career suicide. Clearly those weren’t helpful fears at the moment. I hadn’t known Lara long, but whatever game she was playing, it wasn’t leading me on just so she could get me in trouble.

I unbuckled my pants, unzipped my fly, and my erection landed out, taking the decision out of my hands. I sighed in relief—it was good not to have it cramped up anymore. And Lara’s eyebrows rose perceptibly; a new cheeky grin lit up her face. When she spoke, her voice had a purr in it.

“Not bad. Shame it’ll take more than that to be useful to me. It really would be a better world if all a girl needed to come was a big thing—I’d just date a black and be done with it.”

“I know how to use it,” I said, trying not to sound defensive.

“Oh, that’s not the issue. I can teach you exactly how I like being fucked. The real question is if you can fuck me enough. Because I’m a one-man sort of girl; can’t waste gas sending Winston all over town to chauffeur men to me. So can you keep up with me?”

Lara clapped her hands. The sudden jolt of sound about brought me back to myself, almost made me self-conscious about being outside of my underwear and as hard as I’d ever been, throbbing so powerfully that I felt on the verge of coming. I thought I should look away, because the sight of her nudity was enough to finish me off if I kept staring, but I could no more take my eyes off her than I could wean myself off oxygen.

“I have an idea! Let’s make a game of it. I’m going to touch you. If you come, that’s it. Game over. If you last a minute, you get to fuck me.”

Lara grinned. She really was crazy. As crazy as someone could be while still being in control of themselves… if this was control, her indulging herself this way with a guy she hardly knew…

“Understand the rules, Mr. Jefferies?”

“Yeah,” I groaned, and wasn’t too surprised that my voice sounded hoarse.

“Excellent. Turn and face the mirror.”

I turned and for the first time noticed the floor mirror she wanted my attention on. I could hardly believe my reflection. Sweaty, flushed, my hair a mess, and my cock staked out through my open fly. Then Lara came up behind me. I watched her in the glass, taking off my tweed jacket, then circling her arms around me to reach down and draw up my shirt.

“You take good care of yourself,” she trilled in my ear, running a finger along the lowest rung of my abs.

“I can’t afford many sweets.”

She unbuttoned my vest next, opening it up to get to my shirt and unbuttoning that too. Breathing in my ear as she opened it up and looked over my pecs. Another fleeting touch and Lara shuddered against my back, as blissed out to touch as I was to be touched.

“I think I have a closet jock on my hands.”

“I’m on the rowing team. It’s free and, well, I always have some guys to go drinking with.”

“They’re going to have to do without you,” Lara said. “Wouldn’t you rather use all that energy on me than on crossing a river?”

“You’re cheating,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Trying to get me hot before the time limit. I thought you wanted to get off?”

“I do,” Lara tsked right in my ear. “But I still hate to lose.”

“Not very sensible,” I commented.

“I’m rich. I don’t have to be sensible. Hold up your watch.”

I did. She nibbled on my earlobe. The sight of that heavenly face pressed against mine in the mirror was almost unbearable. I didn’t dare turn and actually look at her.

“Almost eleven,” she continued. “We’ll start then. One minute. Think clean thoughts, lad. And if you come, try to do it on the mirror. You wouldn’t want me licking it off the carpet, would you?”

Sixty seconds. She grabbed me tight, wasting no time in getting a grip and a good feel of my aching hardness. I couldn’t help but glance at the mirror and see the look on her face. My size was no longer a surprise to Lara, but she must’ve liked how it was pulsing. There was a wide, dreamy smile on her face now and she cooed as she slid her hand slowly down my length, feeling every inch of it.

“You could really hurt a girl with this. Maybe I should rethink things. I rather like having a tight cunt. Imagine if I let you stretch me out with this beast. Limping into Westminster Abbey… you wouldn’t want me to sit through some royal address, all the time wondering if I’ll ever be able to be satisfied by a normal-sized prick.”

Fifty seconds. With just the right amount of pressure, she pumped her hand back up my endowment, not stopping until she got to the thrumming head, which she wrapped in her fist like an angry hornet inside a glass jar.