Alice After Hours by Galia Ryan

“nor is it a demand.”
    Alice gave a long sigh of pleasure as his tongue flicked over her nipple.
    â€œ But isn’t that what you want, to demand I do things?” she pleaded.
    â€œ I have no intention of demanding anything from you.”
    â€˜ Then … what …?” Her back arched as another jolt of pleasure surged through her.
    â€œ Close your eyes. Just feel. Do you understand? Don’t think about anything. Concentrate on what I’m doing.”
    His fingertips were gliding over her skin. Teasing over her quivering belly, then up to her ribs before returning to skirt her precisely trimmed mound. Then, nothing.
    Alice lay still, her eyes closed, one arm still twisted and clamped over her head, trying to anticipate his next touch.
    The fingertips returned, only now they were travelling up her side, and she squirmed—not because the sensation was unpleasant, but because they were heading towards the curve of her breast again.
    He was nuzzling her ear.
    â€œ I want you to lose yourself. Strip away everything and concentrate only on feeling.”
    The fingers lifted, and then she felt the lightest touch on her thigh; even so, they burned as they moved oh so slowly towards the crease between the top of her leg and the rounded, fleshy outer lips of her entrance.
    â€œ Ohhhhh!”
    It was an escape of breath. A slow sigh of utter contentment.
    A fingernail eased up the side of one puffy lip, around her clit, and then down the other side. She was wet and open for him. She knew that. Knew that if he chanced to look down he would know it too.
    She wanted to spread her legs. Display herself to this man. Have him take her, possess her, use her, in all her vulnerability.
    â€œ Keep still.”
    She obeyed immediately, but the fingers had gone.
    Instead, she concentrated. Breathed in traces of cologne and shampoo. Felt the pressure of his thigh on hers and the ruthless shape of his erection, the whisper touch of his shirt on her side. Listened to his breathing, deep and steady.
    She sensed him studying her, and the knowledge he was doing so, freely and unhindered, added yet another dimension. Then she was gasping, for he’d parted her folds and having opened her up, his middle finger was delving into her wetness and smearing her own juices over the bud of her clit. She cried out, and in response he took the tiny shaft between thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth. The sensation was both agonising and yet wonderfully exquisite. It also left her desperate with need. Scrabbling at the seam of the sofa cushion, she lifted herself urgently.
    But it was already too late.
    â€œ Please,” she murmured, screwing her eyes up even tighter.
    â€œ Don’t you like it?”
    â€œ Yessssss.”
    â€œ Then what do you want me to do?”
    â€œ Fuck me. Please,” she moaned softly.
    â€œ No.”
    â€˜ I don’t understand.” Alice was shaking uncontrollably and thought she might cry. No one had ever treated her this way. No one.
    His lips came down to trace the curve of hers.
    â€œ Shhh. We have all night.”

Chapter 15
    H e led her, unfulfilled, up a thickly carpeted staircase and along a corridor. Framed black and white images dotted the walls, not that she could make out the subjects. She was exhausted and clinging to his hand, her palm damp with perspiration, his warm and dry. And then the ground gave way as he swung her up and for the few remaining steps, carried her as if she was a child.
    Her head lolled against his and her arm found its way around his neck. She wanted to concentrate on being in the moment, on the rhythm of his stride and the power of his arms … and the delicious feeling of helplessness.
    His bed was vast, and having ripped back the covers, he laid her on sheets scented with soap and sweat while resuming his orchestration of each and every one of her senses. Soon her need was magnified beyond anything she’d ever