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Making the Sale
(this work belongs to Brynn Paulin and cannot be duplicated without permission)
“No,” Jack protested. “No. I don’t care what you do to this place, it will never be home.”
“Oh come on, honey. It’s cheap—”
“Yeah, I wonder why,” he interrupted sarcastically. “It looks like a graffiti museum.”
“Which we’ll cover with drywall,” Bella countered.
“That’s another thing. Cement wall. An exposed ceiling. There isn’t a pipe or duct in this place that’s not showing. Do you realize how much work—and money—it will take to make this livable?”
She sighed. “Look at how much space we’ll have. It’s premium. Do you know how much apartments are running in New York?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been dragged to every available space for two months now.”
“This one is less than any we’ve seen, with ten times the space.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack was warming up now. Marginally.
“And I am the designer of the year. I can have this place up to par in no time.” She leaned against one of the exposed support poles.
“For how much?”
“Less than you think. We’ll do all the work ourselves.”
“Great,” he muttered.
“And I’ll have my dad and brothers buy our supplies outside the city and deliver them.”
“Your dad and brothers who live in Ohio? I’m sure they’ll love that.” He shook his head, looking at the graffiti on the walls. “Can we go now? This place is making me itchy and I’m sure some homeless person is waiting for us to leave so he can settle in for the night.”
“Sit down,” she told him.
“Sit down. Right there where you are and look at me.” Her hand went to her top button as she waited. Finally, he sat. “First of all,” she said, “I locked the door. No one’s coming in. Second, I think this place has merits. It’s close to your business and closer to my subway stop. We’ll have plenty of space to entertain.”
His eyes were riveted on her hand which had now released four of her buttons, revealing her red satin bra—his favorite. She released the last button, then turned her back on him. Slowly, she opened her jeans while she swiveled her hips. Moving to a sexy tune in her head, she grasped the pole and bent forward, giving him a good view of her rear in her tight jeans. Rising slightly, she thrust her hips forward to hump against the support.
Jack groaned. “Would this part of the floor be our bedroom?”
She grinned and shrugged off her shirt then tossed it to him. Grasping the cool pole once more, she spun around then bent so he had a sideways view of her body. One hand traveled the length of her body to the juncture of her thighs. She swiveled her hips again as if she were pleasuring herself. Closing her eyes and parting her lips, she turned her face toward him. Her hand moved to her belly then back down, this time pushing inside her panties. Her fingers slid over her slippery folds, and she rubbed her clit, drawing a small whimper.
Rising, she spun and pressed her back to the support. Her head fell back to one side of the pole. She bent her legs slightly and drove two fingers inside her needy cunt, this time moaning in earnest as she finger-fucked herself.
An iron grip circled her wrist and she realized suddenly that Jack had risen. He pulled her hand from her pants and lifted it to his mouth. Slowly, he sucked her cream from her fingers. Turning her, he pressed both her palms to the pole. He shoved her pants and her boots to her ankles then kicked her feet apart. His body undulated against hers, as he forced her to bend. Her arms were straight out as she held the pole, her back flat and her bared ass open to him.
Jack’s cock dragged along her folds, and she smiled, knowing how she’d arouse him. His pants chafed her thighs and she moaned, knowing he’d only opened them enough to free his cock. Swaying against him, she pretended she was a pole dancer. He was her client, a man driven out of control, and he was going to fuck her onstage, in front of everyone.
His hands grasped her hips and he drove inside her, drawing a raw scream from her lips. Desperately, she arched back against him as much as she could, loving the feel of his width forcing apart her tender folds. Somehow knowing what she needed, he pounded into her.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he groaned as she started to come. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”
Her fingers went white on the pole; her cries echoed hoarsely throughout the room as her cunt convulsed around him. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh accompanied the sound of her voice. Jack grunted. His hips shoved against hers one last time, and she felt his release pour into her. She always loved that feeling, her man, claiming her.
He pulled free then drew her to stand against his body. His damp cock, still somewhat hard, pressed to her back as he kissed her neck and whispered his lips to her ear.
“Sold,” he murmured. “As long as the pole stays.”
Bella grinned. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thanks for reading! I hope you return next week. Leave me a comment!!! Also participating in Monday Minute Fiction:
Ashley Ladd and her story, Body Painting.
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